What Dreams May Tell

by
Authoress Nebula

Part Thirteen

Alexander watched as William moved through the crowd of people with a smile on his face. It was an absolutely beautiful smile, one he used to not show at all. But lately, it was all that was there on his face. And it made Alexander's heart hurt even more, because he knew it wasn't for him.

That smile belonged to Cecily, of course. Alexander slouched in his chair, glaring at the woman. EVERYTHING William did was for her. Fetch a drink, write a poem, smile. All of it for a woman that didn't even notice men, it seemed. He didn't see what William saw in her. She never smiled. Not like William did.

Suddenly her face lit up with a bright smile. Alexander blinked. She did look much better when she smiled. Had she seen William? His heart lurched at the thought.

A young man approached her and began to talk to her. To Alexander's surprise, she even laughed at what he said.

Charles Sweeton. Alexander couldn't stand the man; he poked such fun at William's poems, the way he dressed, the way his hair fell on his face. But here he was talking with Cecily, a grin for the lady stretching his face from ear to ear.

William headed towards Alexander then, two wine glasses in hand. Alexander sat up and smiled at him. “I haven't seen you at the park as of...” He trailed off as William passed by, eyes glued to Cecily once more.

“Lately,” Alexander finished miserably. Cecily was still smiling, and now William was smiling again as well. He barely noticed Charles as he handed the wine glass to Cecily. Cecily's smile diminished slightly at the sight of him. Charles raised his eyebrows from behind William, and her cheeks flushed.

William was blind if he couldn't see that something was going on between Charles and Cecily. Alexander stood, ready to head over to his friend and tell him what was going on. He had the right to know.

Then William's smile broadened, his eyes wide with surprise and joy as she turned and said something to him. Alexander gazed at the small group, before turning and leaving the party.

William would see it soon enough. It wasn't as if he was listening to Alexander anymore, anyways.

Xander sighed. Nothing seemed to be going right. Alexander had had the chance to tell William about the couple-to-be, but hadn't. All because of spite.

“Okay, just because I said I didn't think telling William about Cecily and Charles was a good idea, doesn't mean that you should've listened to me,” Xander muttered. “I mean, what do I know?”

He pushed himself up and reached for his clothes. It would be nice if SOMETHING went right for a change.

After school the next day, Xander helped Willow out with the 'project'. Slowly the three Scoobies began to build a list of people that had been involved with the Victorian party Alexander and William had hung out with. They'd written down the names (in alphabetical order, Willow's request), along with the years of birth and death.

They'd gone very quiet when they'd realized that over half the people in the group had died in 1880. “And Xander said there's more people in the group he just can't remember,” Willow had whispered to Buffy.

Later on, they had gone out to patrol, with Willow and Giles heading in one direction, and Buffy and Xander teamed up and going the other way.

“So, as Alexander, you're finally starting to see couple-y things happening between Cecily and Charles?”

Xander nodded. “Definite couple-age. I just can't believe William isn't seeing it. Didn't see it,” he amended at the look Buffy gave him. “Sorry; I keep talking in past tense.”

“No, you keep thinking as if you're still in the past,” Buffy said, giving him a smile. “As I said before, creepy but cool. But back on track: William hasn't noticed anything?”

“Nope, not a hint of it. He literally walked into it and didn't even stop smiling at her,” Xander grumbled.

Buffy twirled her stake absently. “Has he talked to you about his feelings for her?”

It was Xander's turn to give her a look. “Are you crazy? He hasn't talked to me at all since Cecily came in! At least, not that I know of. I'm only getting bits and pieces here, but I'm not getting the GOOD bits and pieces.”

“Oh,” was all Buffy said. She continued to twirl her stake, and Xander's gaze dropped to the ground. He hadn't even told William about his feelings, and yet it seemed he'd lost William as a friend already.

“You're lucky, you know.”

Xander blinked and glanced up. “I'm what?”

Buffy shrugged. “You're lucky.”

“Okay, maybe you don't know the correct definition of lucky. Because if you look in the dictionary, they would show a great big picture of me, and it would be for the antonym of lucky.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You really are! I mean, you're completely one-hundred percent, head over heels, heart stops when he enters the room in love with him. You know? There's no real questioning of 'should I be in love', because your heart wouldn't let you NOT be in love. Does that make sense?”

Stopping in front of a marker that read 'Mrs. Hartwood', Xander turned to her and frowned. “It makes sense, but I'm not really sure why that makes me lucky. You've got that kind of love, too, you know. With Angel. Right?”

Buffy glanced down at her shoes, and Xander's mouth dropped open. “You're not?!”

“I am!” she protested, biting her lip. “I am, and I'm not. Because HE'S not. At least, I don't think he is.”

“He's not in love with you like that?”

Buffy finally gazed up at Xander and said quietly, “I don't think he's in love with me at all.”

Blinking was all Xander could do. She thought...how could she...

Buffy gave him a smile that looked more like a grimace. “I know. Buffy and Angel, the eternal love. Write it on all the notebooks and trees. Kinda weird for them NOT to be together, huh?”

“Why don't you think he loves you?” Xander asked.

She sighed and leaned against a Mr. Graint's headstone. “Because whenever I suggest doing something, like hanging out at the Bronze, seeing a movie, doing something together, he won't. And lately, it's not even patrol anymore. He's been avoiding me ever since I got back from my summer break. And it's not really fair to me if he doesn't care about me anymore, because that would mean I could go date someone that DOES care, or would care, but he won't even do that, so what am I supposed to...”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Xander said, putting his hand up to halt her. “Okay, never thought I would stick up for Deadboy, but here goes.

“Maybe he doesn't love you anymore. Maybe he doesn't care. But maybe there's another reason he's pulling away. When he pulled you out of the water last spring Buff, he...I didn't know vampires could pale, but he did. And the look on his face made my chest hurt. Because he looked like the guy who had lost the most important thing in the world. And for a few minutes there, he really did.

“So maybe he's trying to pull away because last spring, he was given an update that told him, 'Hi, you're immortal, your girlfriend's not, how long until you're alone?'. Maybe he's trying to distance himself from going through that. It's not the smartest thing to do, but you can't blame the guy for loving you so much that he'd give you up.”

It was Buffy's turn to have an open mouth. Xander shifted uncomfortably. “What?” he asked.

She finally closed her mouth, blinking a few times before saying, “You. You're all...wise and stuff.”

“Another creepy but cool thing?” Xander joked.

Buffy grinned. “Yeah. Definitely. And I'm jealous again. This time of William, because he had a great guy like you hounding after him.”

Xander could feel the blush spreading even to his ears. “Patrol?” he asked weakly.

Buffy nodded with a smile, letting him off the hook. He shot her a grateful look and resumed his place next to her as they continued walking through the cemetery.

“Big picture of you in the dictionary?”

“Of course.”

“How big are we talking?”

“Half a page, maybe a little more. I'm not greedy.”

Part Fourteen

'Thursday

'Everything I do, from the moment I awake in the morning, to the moment I finally fall asleep, everything causes me to think of William.

'This morning, we had strawberries at breakfast. William loves strawberries. He wrote a poem about them once. Before Cecily.

'Today at the park was beautiful, as always. But it wasn't the same, because William wasn't there. He was at a function with Cecily and Charles Sweeton. I asked him if he would like to go to the park with me instead. He gave me such a look, as if my head were on backwards and my feet were webbed. Then he hurried off, not wanting to be late. Leaving me alone at the park. Again.

'Cecily and Charles...there's something going on between them. It was more definite the other day; Charles even had the audacity to reach forward and caress her face. She turned pink at the touch, but made no effort to pull away.

'William still doesn't see it. Or maybe he does, but he won't admit it. I won't tell him though: he'll have to open his own eyes and see it.

'How can he see such a proud, arrogant young woman, yet not see me? A woman who probably wishes he would fall off the face of the earth if just to leave her alone. But I...

'I wish he knew, sometimes. These feelings I have for him. Then other times I'm glad he doesn't, because he would regard me even more strangely then he did earlier today. But I can't help it. I wish I could, but I can't. I'm in love with him.

'I told myself no more functions, no more parties where Cecily will be, but it's the only place William really is anymore. And I...I want to see him. I have to. I think...maybe...just once more, and then once I see how he is with her, maybe I can condemn these feelings to the lowest pit of hell for good. Because I can't do this anymore. To love someone, yet know it will never be returned. I can't...I just'

Alexander dropped the pen onto the journal, pushing the chair away with his feet. His face dropped into his hands, and in his room, where no one could see or hear him, Alexander let himself cry.

So Alexander hadn't given up just yet. That was good. Right? Right. Yeah.

But what about Xander?

Xander pulled the covers over his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Please let me get a few minutes of sleep that don't have dreams...Please...

Another day of trudging through school. Another day of getting odd glances from the teachers, and sympathetic looks from Buffy and Willow. And quite frankly, Xander was getting tired of those days.

“Can we just put a drill inside my head and cut out the part that makes it dream?” Xander asked, slouching in the library chair.

Buffy frowned. “I thought we were going to be optimistic about William. And the dreams, in general.”

“Well, I'm not anymore. Okay? I'm sick of feeling this way. And that's another point!” Xander exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “I don't know if it's ME feeling this way, or if it's Alexander, who constantly screws things up all the time!”

“Xander!”

“Don't Xander me, Willow.”

Willow crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze. “You ARE Alexander, or were, and it's not his fault about William being a big poopy-head. It's not yours either. But don't give up!”

Xander began to lean back again, then stopped, eyes darting up to Willow. “You found something else then?” he asked hopefully.

Willow's eyes widened, before guiltily looking the other way. “Um, no. Nothing else found. I'm sorry, Xander.”

Hope firmly squashed and shoved six feet under in mud, Xander fell back into his chair. Couldn't he get a break? Just once? Maybe something that said, 'Hey, hang in there, it's all for this fantastic prize at the end'? And Buffy and Willow could be wearing long, slinky dresses, then proudly display the fantastic prize Vanna White style. Yeah.

Problem was, he had no clue what the prize could be.

“Oh good, you're all here,” Giles said, stepping out of his office. Xander wondered briefly if the man lived in there, or had tunnel access straight to his house via the office, and almost snickered. He was definitely losing it.

The girls exchanged looks, having apparently seen him almost lose his grip on what little sanity he had left. “What's up now, G-man?” Xander asked.

Giles flinched. “Do stop calling me that, Xander. Please. But as to the reason we needed to gather here, it's more serious then you might think.” He took a deep breath, then said, “We need to find out what Spike is doing in town, and how we're going to dust him.”

“No!”

All eyes turned to him. Giles gave him a look that told him he HAD lost his final grip on sanity. “I beg your pardon?” he managed to stammer.

Think quick, dummy. Not one of your brighter moves, his mind hissed at him. But Xander hadn't even thought about it; the terror had been instantaneous, the thought of Spike dead and gone forever making his heart stop in his chest.

They were still staring at him. Talking would be good around now. “I-I just thought, you know, we might w-want to research some more before we, um, you know, attack or something. So we're better prepared and, uh, everything.”

The girls shot him a look that clearly told him they thought it was lame. Xander couldn't have cared less what they thought. The only person whose opinion really mattered at the moment was the librarian and Watcher who was regarding him now with suspicion.

“It would be a wise idea, and I would've suggested such a thing if you hadn't interjected,” Giles finally said. “Research would benefit us all.”

Xander nodded and breathed an inward sigh of relief. At least something was going right.

Books were hauled out, and they began flipping for dates coming up for demon rituals or risings. Anything that Spike might be interested in doing.

Xander could only stare at the dusty old page, not even reading the words. Something about the colliding of their world with another. His mind was on his gut-reaction to Giles' words.

Maybe they were his feelings, and Alexander's too. Maybe they both wanted to forget about William, Spike, whoever he went as. But every single time, they would leap to defend the ones they cared about. Though, Xander was starting to think about leaping back, because really, he had the rest of the world to consider. Especially if Spike wanted to send it careening into another one.

And Spike could take care of himself. He didn't need Xander. Like William hadn't needed Alexander.

Xander closed the book and stood, grabbing his backpack as he headed for the doors. “Where are you going?” Willow asked, and he could hear the frown in her voice.

“Home,” was his reply, pushing through the doors. He couldn't stay and really help when his mind was elsewhere. He really wouldn't be of any help if he was thinking about the enemy. The enemy that had gorgeous blue eyes you would melt for. The enemy that hated him and his friends.

When he reached his house, he headed straight upstairs, closing the door behind him. He flung his backpack over to the opposite side of the room, then took a seat on his bed.

It was all so messed up. Couldn't him or Alexander have a break? Just one? A little one, just a tiny one, and he wasn't asking for too much, was he?

Found another resemblance between me and Alexander, Xander thought, before burying his head in his hands and letting the tears fall.

Part Fifteen

Actual episode text taken from BuffyWorld.com

His beautiful blue eyes kept darting up and down. Alexander stared so long, he could see it happening even if he closed his eyes. Up. Down. Up. Down. Scribble a little. Back up the eyes would go. Always on the same person, never wavering. Always on Cecily.

William was composing a poem about her now. He could see him getting frustrated with himself, the right word not coming to him when he needed it. Alexander knew he would probably start biting the end of the pen soon. It was the cutest thing, and he almost smiled at the memory.

The little half smile disappeared as William's eyes darted up, a smile playing on his face at the sight of 'her'. Alexander took another sip of his bourbon and miserably watched William ask a question of a bemused butler. He remembered when William used to ask HIM for help with a word. But those days were long gone.

William stood, poem in hand, and headed over to Cecily. Charles was by her side, as usual, though he was talking with a few of his friends now. Alexander couldn't hear about what, and really didn't want to. Probably something vulgar.

In his attempt to reach Cecily, William stepped inside the conversation circle, and Charles asked him something. William frowned and made his reply, before his eyes were back on Cecily. Charles noticed the glance and glared, causing Alexander to instantly sit forward. If that ruffian took a step towards William...

Charles didn't, but he surprised both Alexander and William when he snatched the piece of paper from William's hands. William's eyes immediately widened as he tried to take it back. Charles began to read out loud, and his volume was such that even Alexander could hear it from his seat.

“My heart expands. 'Tis grown a bulge in it, inspired by your beauty effulgent.” Charles stared at the paper, before glancing up at William, laughing. “'Effulgent'?”

The others began to laugh as well, and the smile fell from William's face. Alexander's fists clenched, desperately wanting to put one through Charles's skull. He told himself he shouldn't care. William would be fine.

But the look on his face...

Cecily had walked away from the group, and William, ever the faithful puppy, had followed on her heels after retrieving his poem. Alexander snorted and drained the rest of his bourbon in one go.

“Have you heard? They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry!” one of the men said.

Another standing beside Charles laughed. “It suits him. I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that awful stuff!”

Alexander fought the urge to yell that it wasn't awful in the slightest. It was emotions and feelings put into words. Perhaps William wasn't Shakespeare. But he WAS a poet.

“Leave me alone.”

Alexander turned at the voice to his left. Cecily sat on a sofa nearby, and William sat right beside her. William glanced over at the still laughing men and glared, before turning back to her. “Oh, they're vulgarians. They're not like you and I.”

Cecily stared at him, wide-eyed. “You and I? I'm going to ask you a very personal question, and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand?”

William nodded, sitting forward eagerly. Alexander watched and waited, wishing he had more bourbon.

“Your poetry, it's not...they're...” Cecily took a deep breath before continuing. “They're not written about me, are they?”

“They're about how I feel,” William told her, smiling.

Cecily didn't smile back. “Yes, but are they about me?”

“Every syllable,” William said, his smile broadening.

Her face turned ashen, and she turned away, shutting her eyes in a grimace and murmuring something under her breath. William sat forward, his hand tentatively reaching out to comfort her. “Oh, I know... it's sudden and please, if they're no good, they're only words but... the feeling behind them... I love you, Cecily.”

Even though he'd known it was true, Alexander could still feel his heart stopping at the sound of the words. He hadn't wanted to believe it. To know that William had feelings that ran so deep for her...but there was no denying it now. He loved her. And it made Alexander want to heave.

“Please stop,” Cecily begged.

William pulled his hand away and tried again. “I know I'm a bad poet, but...I'm a good man. And all I ask is that...that you try to see me...”

“I do see you,” Cecily said, cutting him off. “That's the problem.”

She rose to standing, then turned to glance down at William. William gazed up at her, confused. “You're nothing to me, William,” she continued, spitting his name out as if it dirtied her. “You're beneath me.”

She walked away, back to Charles, but Alexander didn't care. His eyes were locked on William, who finally understood what had happened. His lower lip began to tremble, and his hand clenched around his poem. He stood suddenly, hurrying to the front door, past the laughing gentlemen and out into the night.

Alexander had already set his glass down and now ran after him, desperate to find his friend.

Xander's eyes shot open. “Don't you DARE stop now,” he growled at whoever was giving him the dreams.

Midway through his growling, however, he yawned. His eyes drifted shut, and he could feel himself falling back into the dream state.

“William! William, wait, please!”

William didn't slow when Alexander called out to him. Alexander continued to run, not willing to let William leave. “William, please, wait for me!”

“Shove off,” William told him, not stopping.

Alexander ignored him and reached out, grabbing William's arm to make him halt. William whipped around and pulled away, angry eyes shining with tears. “Don't touch me!” he yelled.

Alexander's hand jerked away, and he stared at his friend, hurt. “I just wanted...wanted to talk to you,” he said. He should go home. Just leave William, since William clearly didn't want him around any longer.

“Talk?” William retorted. “About how my 'fantastic' poetry was so well loved? Admired? Didn't you see what just happened in there?”

“I did, and that's why I wanted to...to...”

William began to chuckle bitterly. “To tell me the poems aren't 'bloody awful'? Face it, Alexander, they are. And you know it. You've read this...this drivel. So have they. Nobody cares if I write trash! It won't be remembered, not even by the woman I adore!

“They don't care about me at all!” he continued, working himself up. “About whether I exist, write, none of it. I'm not important to them, I'm BENEATH them! I'm NOTHING!”

“I care,” Alexander said softly.

William gave him a look of disdain. “It's not even caring I want, I want...I want love. I want the romantic sort of love, the ones real writers and poets tell about.”

“William...”

William ignored him. “The sort of love where one person desires another. And the other, despite status and fathers and society, loves and desires the first person.”

“William, I...”

“And the two of them tell the world to just...just leave them in peace, because they don't need the world! They only need each other and the love they have!”

“I kno...”

“THAT'S the caring and love I so desperately crave. The love I want. So tell me, Alexander,” William sneered, “will you give me THAT kind of caring? Well, will you?!”

“YES!” Alexander shouted. “Yes I would!!”

The moment the words left his mouth, Alexander knew whatever friendship they'd had, could still have had, was gone. William's face turned white, and no emotion was left on his face save for shock. Alexander swallowed and stepped towards him. “William, I...”

William rapidly took two steps backwards. “Get away from me,” he whispered.

Alexander's heart lurched. “No, William, please, let me...”

“No,” William said, shaking his head. “No. That's...that's wrong. And sick. And...and Alexander, how could you? That's...”

Tears began to gather in Alexander's eyes. “No, William, please, I lo...”

“Don't say it!” William cried, backing away. “Don't. Say. It.” He stared at Alexander, disgust and horror in his eyes, before turning and running down the street.

“William, no!” Alexander yelled. He could only watch as his friend continued to run, even bumping into someone in his hurry to get away. From HIM.

Tears streaming down his face, Alexander turned and slowly walked towards home.

When Xander opened his eyes, his clock told him it was almost time to get ready for school. It wasn't a cobblestone street that greeted his vision.

And his face and eyes were dry. Not wet with moisture.

When the clock's alarm went off, Xander didn't move. He wasn't sure he could. Why should he? There was nothing left.

It was over.

Part Sixteen

“What do you mean, stop the project?”

Xander wearily ran his fingers through his hair. “I meant what I said I meant. No more project, Wills. There's no point. And you know why.”

Buffy scooted her chair forward. “Xander, I know that last night was...okay, beyond disappointing. But there...”

“No! There's no chance anymore, Buffy!” Xander shouted, his voice echoing in the library. All three jumped at the sound.

“How do you know that?” Buffy argued. “It was just a dream.”

“Yeah. Of what happened way back in 1880. It's over, you guys.”

“But...”

Xander shook his head, cutting Willow off. “Last night, Alexander, me, whoever the hell it was, not only blew any chance of being all couple-y with William, but screwed over the friendship with him. And Alexander never had any chance of a relationship with William to start with! I mean, we're talking Victorian era, guys. It was improper to even reach for a lady's hand without her permission! And for two guys to hook up?

“But whatever chance of being a couple Alexander and William had, the whole me and Spike thing? Even LESS of a chance there. He's a master vampire,” Xander said, when Buffy looked ready to interrupt. “What would he want with a...a 'whelp' like me?

“No. There's no chance, Buff. The dreams were stupid, useless, made me...” Xander trailed off, unable to finish.

So Willow finished for him. “Believe?” she said tentatively. When Xander said nothing, she continued, “I know you think it was, but the dreams weren't stupid. If anything, it showed you that love isn't always found in a high school, or even in the opposite gender, you know?”

“And you don't know what tomorrow could bring. Tomorrow in your dreams, that is,” Buffy said.

Xander glanced over at her miserably. “You think there's still hope for a friendship?”

Buffy smiled. “There's always hope.”

“Not in this case,” Xander said. “When William...ran from me, he ran into a guy with long, tangled hair, and there were two women by his side. I recognized Darla and Angelus, so I'm gonna have to say that the other woman was Drusilla. Which means that William's dead.”

Silence fell upon the group. Buffy would start to say something, then stop, glancing from Xander to the table top. Willow's eyes were round and her lower lip was firmly pulled down, which signaled that she was either being thoughtful, or was going to cry soon.

Xander sank into a chair, staring at the floor. His mind drifted back to the look on William's face, and his eyes started to water. If only he'd kept his mouth shut, their friendship might've been okay. He blinked at a sudden realization. William would've been okay if he hadn't said anything. “It's my fault he died,” he said softly. “If I hadn't told him how I felt, he wouldn't have run. He wouldn't have bumped into Angelus. Drusilla wouldn't have killed him. And he...he died hating me.”

There were two scraping sounds against the tiles, and before Xander could look up, both girls had their arms wrapped around him. “You don't know either of those things. Alexander, you, it doesn't matter: you couldn't have stopped it from happening,” Willow said.

“And from what you told us, it sounds like William was already running,” Buffy pointed out. “You stopped him. If anything, you gave him a few more extra minutes alive.”

Xander sniffled, before his arms reached up to wrap around each girl. Definitely keeping the girls with him wherever he went.

Buffy pulled away slightly to look him in the eye. “And maybe he didn't like you when he died, or maybe he even hated you. I don't know. But at least he knew that someone DID love and care about him.”

Willow nodded. “Even if the feelings were 'wrong', you let him know that much. So quit picking on my Xander, or I'll have to beat you over the head with a shovel.”

Xander gave her a watery smile. “No more picking on Xander. Got it.”

The girls leaned their heads back on his, and he gave them both a small squeeze of thanks.

Two days. Two days since he'd told William how he'd truly felt. Two days since William had stared at him with a disgust Alexander hadn't thought possible. Two days since William had run from him. Two days...

Alexander glanced around his room. Papers were thrown everywhere. Torn up ones, crumpled ones, a few with the edges burnt from a candle. All were pictures of William.

“Alexander, you have a guest,” his mother called up. “William has come to call.”

Alexander said nothing, his eyes still on his scattered papers. Knowing William, he would just come up to Alexander's room. They were good enough friends for that. Well, had been at any rate.

He turned to his desk and picked up the pen that lay on top of his open journal. Another thing to write about.

'Monday

'I have done a most abominable thing. I have lost a treasured friend because of my idiocy, my foolishness!

'William has now come to call, my mother tells me. It is the first time I have heard from him since Saturday night. The night I told him...I didn't tell him how I truly felt, though. He wouldn't let me finish.

'I do not know why he has come to see me. Perhaps to tell me...to stay away from him, to not try and see him anymore. To die, perhaps. Something horrid, I'm sure of that. And I well deserve it.

'True love doesn't exist for anyone, and least for a fool. I was, at least, right about one thing.'

A knock at the door made Alexander pause briefly, then set his pen down. He closed the journal and began to lock it.

“Alexander.”

Alexander stiffened at the sound of William's voice. He pulled his hand away from the unlocked journal.

“Alexander, I know you're here. Your mother told me as much, and I know you don't like being outside after dark, for which I can't blame you.”

Alexander sat back in his chair, staring at his desk. It was a cluttered mess, full of papers, pens, and a letter opener that he rarely used. His eyes remained fixed on the assorted objects as he waited for the door to open.

Xander's eyes snapped open. “Oh no,” he whispered, before shutting his eyes tight and trying to fall back asleep.

Nothing happened. “Please no,” he whimpered. He had never thought...thought that this would...

He pushed himself up, knowing he'd never fall asleep and get his answer. If he wanted to know what happened next, he had to find something that could tell him.

And if he hurried, he could get to the school hours before the doors officially opened.

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