Not Until We Are Lost

The Doctor had been nothing short of frustrated the entire time he was on that island. He was glad Rose was alright, but she was far away, and after everything... he had to protect her.

And the others.

That was his job, wasn't it? Why he'd survived the Time War? Why he'd made such great, great sacrifices?

He woke up this time in a fairly posh room, one that looked a lot like...

The Doctor sat up. The TARDIS was in the corner, he was not inside it, yet the room looked like his room inside the TARDIS. On the bedside table, there was his psychic paper and Sonic Screwdriver, and he could see his leather jacked hanging on a hanger off a dresser knob.

Well, at least there was that.

He dressed and grabbed all of his gadgets, patted the TARDIS happily, resolving to thoroughly inspect her shortly, and left the room.

He knew he was on a space ship. Oh, he knew.

Rose was priority one right now. And he head off to find her.

Morpheus did not turn in, so to speak, the way other people, or even other gods, did for the evening. He'd be up all night, either pacing or motionless in a red arm chair, the French doors of his apartment in New Orleans thrown open. He'd only half-occupy the Waking World, if half. Most of him was thrown into weaving dreams for and about the sleeping portion of the planet.

He did not wake up in a spaceship, therefore. Dream rarely slept, and tonight was no such occasion. No. Rather, when he realized his body was arranged differently in the red arm chair, that there was no breeze from the open doors... he came back to Waking Life entirely, leaving dreams in the hands of the myriad Oneiroi.

As someone who routinely altered reality based on very specific parameters, Dream was not an easy being to fool. That he had, apparently, been taken from his home and placed somewhere else--somewhere he'd never seen before, though it had a familiar red chair and some poppies in vases--simply flabbergasted him.

He got to his feet, putting on his shoes, which he found next to the chair, and explored the room. Down to the last detail, every item was his. Loki perhaps was involved in this, or...

Well, who hadn't Morpheus annoyed in the last century?

He sighed, very deeply.

Running his tongue over his teeth, annoyed, Morpheus opened the door to his room and ventured out into the hallway.

"Okay," he called down it, voice very melodic, almost sing-song, "Good trick. Now, let's be a nice asshole and put me back in my flat, hmm, before I allow Phoebetor access to your head forever and sit and watch with popcorn."

The last word was drawn out, almost comically. Popcooooooorrrrnnnnnn.

Speaking with Dean had also alleviated some of his anxiety, yet Cas found he couldn't stay in one place aboard the ship for very long. He could sit with Anna wherever she pleased - that was different, but in order to know exactly where they were and what they were dealing with, wandering the parts of the ship that were accessible was the best course of action. He'd forgotten to eat, of course. While he'd watched several people order food as they came and went, he still wasn't certain he wished to try any himself. He didn't know what was in it and he didn't feel as though he or his fellow hunters should find out.

So he watched their hosts. Many regarded him with a blank stare akin to one he would have given any member of humanity at one time. It did not unnerve him so much as frustrate. He could finally understand why Dean and Sam had been equally as annoyed with him at times. He'd given answers that only amounted to more questions and these extra-terrestrials were not even forthcoming with real answers. He had a feeling they knew what it meant when he glared at them and he was not about to make it secret. While he was aware he could not harm them for the time being, he was merely waiting for a time where it would be possible. After all, everything burned. Everything died. And if that was what it took to return him and Anna home to their rightful place, then he was willing to suffer the consequences. Lucifer could gloat all he liked, but Cas never acted rashly

Yet a certain presence drew him from his thoughts. It was abrupt and certainly not something he'd felt in some time. Looking around, he pushed up off the bulkhead he'd been leaning against and looked directly at the woman in question. She hid it well, but even for a former angel, there was no mistaking that level of power.

"You are a god," he said bluntly. "When did you arrive?"