Title: What Dreams May Come

Summary: After a perilous encounter, Hanna finds himself in an inescapable dream world, which becomes the battlefield between life and death. His guides: an origami crane and a familiar man with no name.

Rating: R

Content: Blood/gore, slight mind-fuck, sexuality, depictions of alternate lifestyles, and Hanna's big fucking mouth.

Pairing: Eventual Hanna/{...} for great justice

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Spiritual, Supernatural, Action/Adventure, and a slight bit of -gasp- Romance.

Author's Note: So...just got into the fandom and I'm an insanely proud Hannafag now. Did some artfagging and now time for fictionfagging. My DGM reviewers are going to find my house and burn it to the ground at the rate I've been not updating my other fics, but I have to let the plot bunny out or its going to breed and then multiply at a rapid rate in my basement. Enjoy this shit, guys.

=0=

To be, or not to be-that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them...

-Hamlet

Act 3, Scene I

=0=

So maybe it was kind of a bad idea, but that fact didn't matter after everything was already said and done, because that's how life usually works.

Really, the case had been a rare one. It started with a local child suddenly becoming ill enough to be hospitalized, whereupon the eight-year old Maggie Hurst slipped into a coma twenty-four hours later. Within forty-eight hours, she was dead. It was a shocking event that rattled the parents, stunned the doctors, and fed the presses. Hanna recalled sort of maybe possibly reading—glancing over on his way to the comics—something about it maybe two weeks prior in one paper or another he'd nabbed from the rack outside the convenience store. It hadn't been anything important in the scope of paranormal investigation at that time: just a tragedy that had no explanation. But then, other children started to appear in the hospitals downtown with the same symptoms. Parents were hysterical and more than once, Hanna had turned off the television to escape their sobbing, angry voices. Apparently, a health board was looking into the drinking water because of it, but that was a laugh in and of itself. The signs were clear, at least to Hanna that they were dealing with something much bigger than too much chlorine or a plethora of harmful chemicals in the water.

Someone else must have figured it out too, because three nights prior, Hanna was hired by someone with no last name and quite a bit of cash to look into the matter. In no position to say no—with the rent due and the need for fresh groceries mixed in with the ever present craving for IHOP pancakes, which cost money he did not have—Hanna took the case. With only a few hours of researching with a quiet feverishness that few had ever witnessed, he'd figured it out, and jumped up on top of the sofa with a "Gnee!" of excitement that actually startled Harvey—that was his current undead roommate's name that hour—out of the book he had been reading.

"I figured it out!" Hanna says, and jumps on the worn couch to express his joy. "Fuck yes!"

"Of course you did," Harvey says, and Hanna is filled with a bit of pride that someone had so much faith in him.

"Don't you want to know? How awesome I am?" Hanna asks. Orange eyes are locked on him, and Hanna realizes that it's because the zombie is making sure that he does not fall and hurt himself. Always looking out for Hanna, and that makes him smile even wider. And when the corners of Harvey's quirk up slightly, Hanna rushes to make another tick mark on the ever accumulating tally of the Who Smiles More Board. When Hanna caps the marker, he returns to the couch and stands victoriously on the edge of it, declaring: "It's a Striga."

"A Striga?"

"Yeah. It's a really nasty ass demon that only comes out to feed every twenty-five years. Usually likes kids, which kind of makes it a really nasty ass demon pedophile."

"Does it eat their souls?"

"In a sense; Strigas feed on their life force—which is the volition that the soul provides—so it's a pretty slow process, especially when kids have such strong energy. Once that life force is gone though, your soul moves on and you kick it as fast as the electric's shut down when you're late on the bill."

Harvey closed his book and put on his fedora.

"Do you have a plan?"

"Fuck yes."

Even when one has a plan, sometimes, factors get in the way that were not expected and therefore, unprepared for. For more mundane things, it's usually the weather when you want to go do something outside, or a nagging boss wanting to see some overtime on an employee's day off, and sometimes it takes the form traffic when you just want to get somewhere quickly. For paranormal investigating, it pretty much consisted of three things: old buildings, the cops, and other supernatural creatures.

It was doubly worse when they were clumsy supernatural creatures.

"Shiiiiit," Conrad swore, letting out the vowel stretch out like a hiss. Number three had collided with number one, and when Hanna turned around, he saw that the vampire was buried to his waist in the decrepit floor. His arms shook as he tried to keep himself from falling through the cracked wood and it made Hanna laugh. "What the fuck are you laughing about?" Conrad growled, though he did not look the slightest bit imposing in his current predicament. Hanna put his hand to his mouth to try and muffle the sound of his laughter, shoulders shaking as Conrad became steadily more and more pissed off. "Is someone going to fucking help me?" Gilgamesh—his zombie partner's new name, which Hanna thought to be epic, and therefore lucky on their case—grasped onto the collar of Conrad's sweater and pulled him up through the floor with ease. The vampire straightened out and pointed his pale finger at Hanna, who was still in a state of trying to quiet his hysteric giggles that were only fueled by Conrad's irate face and the tiny fang that protruded from the lower lip. "You fucking suck." Hanna actually did lose it then and even doubled over, banging his fist against his knee.

"What is so goddamn funny?" Conrad demanded, and his fists went up in the air like an angry toddler.

"Y-You're a vampire. You're the one who f-f-fuckin' sucks!" Hanna replied through gasps of air.

"That's not funny," Conrad said, crossing his arms.

"I found it funny."

A voice—that certainly did not belong to anyone in their party—made Hanna get a grip on himself pretty quickly and caused him to look down the hall towards the source. A figure in a tattered, dusty, and overall rather clichéd cape stood there and was, judging from the ugliness of the chin that jutted out beneath the hood, their Striga.

"The fuck?" came Conrad's voice behind him—an octave higher than usual—and Hanna heard him take a step back.

"At least he's got a good sense of humor," Hanna said.

"I'm a chick," said the Striga.

"Oh, shit, sorry," Hanna replied.

"Happens all the time," she answered, and with that hideous chin, Hanna did not doubt her.

"At least she's got a good sense of humor," Hanna amended, glancing back at Conrad.

"Are we seriously having this conversation right now?" Conrad asked. He was hiding behind Gilgamesh, where he pointed another accusatory finger at Hanna. "There's a fucking demon over there that's been eating kids and you're acting like we're in the fucking park about to see a live performance of Coldplay."

"I dunno. Coldplay's kind of gay," Hanna said with a shrug, not understanding what Conrad was so upset about. After all, they made fun of him all the time, because he was just easy to fuck with.

"You're bat shit crazy," Conrad said and that caused Hanna to start laughing again, going so far to even snort into his palm. "What?"

"Bats," Hanna replied, thinking of the sassy bat, Adelaide, who had nested in Conrad's apartment for a while. Oh, and turned him into a vampire. There was that too. Conrad must have realized it too after a moment, because he got a little angrier. If he had any blood in him, his face might have been red, but since he didn't, it wasn't.

"Not funny," Conrad said.

"But it kind of is," Hanna replied.

"My death is funny to you?"

"Look guys, this is fun and all, but can we get back to the main plot soon? I haven't eaten in twenty-five years and I need some more delicious children," said the Striga. She was tapping her foot in an annoyed, womanly fashion.

"Right," Hanna said, and faced the creature again. He smiled and gave the creature a genial sort of shrug. "We're going to have to say no."

"No?" asked the demon.

"Yeah, you know, no. As in no fucking way are we going to let you go around killing kids," Hanna replied.

"You and what army?" the Striga asked.

"Well, there's me," Hanna said, and then jerked his thumb behind him at his partner and the cowering Conrad. "And them."

"So, only the three of you?" clarified the demon.

"Yeah," Hanna answered.

"That's a little lame," was the semi-disappointed reply.

"Not really, because we're pretty fucking awesome," Hanna said, holding out his trusty hammer with a grin. "So let's go."

Strigas were not only rare, but vicious during their cycles of feeding. Because that, she was strong with the energy she had stolen from kids, effectively giving her a boost in strength that equated her to the force of a speeding Toyota. The Striga leaped at Hanna, moving so quickly that she was just a blur of shadow and pale chin in the night. Within seconds, she was before him and Hanna, with his unremarkable height, could see beneath the hood: white, flabby skin nearly hid two beady black eyes within the flesh. They glared down at him and then the mouth—between the rolls of sagging cheeks and beneath the hooked nose—smiled, revealing multiple rows of long, thin teeth. Saliva dripped over the teeth that could pierce human skin and leave no marks, as they were merely an outlet by which the Striga used to feed on life energy. However, those pearly whites were suddenly bashed in when a metal pail collided with them, sending the demon hurtling backwards along the hallway where she slammed into the far wall. When Hanna blinked and took in the entire scene, he saw Gilgamesh standing there with his right arm outstretched, holding a dented bucket in his gloved hand.

"Hanna, are you okay?" he asked.

"That. Was. Awesome!" Hanna replied, because it had definitely been amazing. Gilgamesh even smiled in his usual half-smile sort of way at Hanna's enthusiasm. "Just because of that, you're Leonidas now!"

"Who gives a shit what your name is? My fucking face hurts like a bitch…" grumbled the Striga, as she tried to pick herself up from the place on the floor.

"It's hurting me even more," said Conrad.

"Shut up, bloodsucker," replied the demon.

"You're a kidsucker, that's worse," Hanna said and then made a face. "Ew, that's kind of wrong now that I think about it.

"Am I the only one who's kind of wanting to hurry this along?" asked Conrad, who was begrudgingly following behind Hanna and the zombie as they approached the Striga. The wooden beam gave out and the demon got caught in between the splintered planks, keeping her from escaping.

"Yeah, you're right. Besides, there's gonna be a new episode of Hell's Kitchen on tonight that's supposed to be good," Hanna said, rubbing his chin as he tried to think of when exactly the cooking show was supposed to air. It was either nine or ten o'clock, but he couldn't quite remember…

"You're seriously thinking about television at a time like this?" Conrad asked.

"Well, Leonidas really likes Hell's Kitchen," replied Hanna, looking at the zombie. "Right Leonidas?"

"It is a very interesting show," Leonidas conceded.

"Maybe we should call you Gordon, you know, after Gordon Ramsay," Hanna said and Leonidas—then officially Gordon—blinked at him in a manner that Hanna interpreted as the green light to change his ever-changing name status.

"If I wasn't already dead, I would probably kill myself," muttered Conrad.

"I'm about ready to do myself in," said the Striga, tapping her fingers on the floor in impatience. She couldn't really go anywhere because of her current predicament so Hanna wasn't too worried.

"Nah, we'll take care of that," Hanna said, holding out his hand to Conrad. "Give me that thing Worth gave to you earlier."

"What thing?" Conrad asked.

"You know. The thing," Hanna said.

"Uh…"

"You're all idiots," said the demon. She tried to pull herself out of the hole in the floor, but Gordon stopped her by hitting the top of her hooded head with the metal pail. The Striga let out a sound of pain, and slumped forward again.

"Nice going, Ace," Hanna said, giving the zombie a thumbs up.

"Oh, right," said Conrad suddenly, before he began searching through the messenger bag that rested at his hip. He produced an object wrapped in black linen, which Hanna took and removed from the dark cloth. In the yellow light from one of the street lamps outside, the ornate dagger in Hanna's hands glowed at the hilt. The blade did not shine, as it was coated in a thick, almost-black looking liquid. Conrad sniffed the air and made a face. "What kind of blood is that?"

"Lamb's blood," Hanna replied and Conrad made a disgusted sound.

"It smells like Minnesota," he said.

"Minnesota?"

"You know, like a barn or something."

"Well, it is lamb's blood…"

"Where the hell did Worth get lamb's blood?" Conrad asked.

"Dunno," said Hanna with a shrug, "but he did offer me some lamb chops before we left."

"That…that's just wrong," Conrad said, and his face was borderline horrified at what Worth had probably done to an innocent lamb in the back room of his skeezy clinic. He shuddered and asked: "What do we need fucking lamb's blood for anyway?"

"It's the only way to stop a Striga," Hanna said, like it was a basic bit of knowledge everyone should know. "You know: the old dagger-dipped-in-fresh-lamb's-blood-thing." The demon in question hissed at him and tried to get away from the knife that would end her life. She was halfway out of the hole before Ace hit her with the bucket again.

"Stop fucking hitting me!" she moaned.

"Sorry," Ace said, but did not sound it at all.

"You're apologizing? Don't apologize!" Conrad said.

"Yeah, well, sorry we're going to have to kill you now," Hanna said, though his serious words were said with a smile and a bit of an apologetic shrug.

"What if I say no?" she asked.

"Doesn't really matter," Hanna answered in a sing-song sort of voice.

"Okay, if that's the case, I'm sick of your shit. And that fucking bucket," the Striga said. Faster than Hanna could make a stab at her, she moved and sunk her teeth into Ace's leg. The zombie blinked, looking down at the demon with his usual stoic expression.

"Maybe you should hit her again?" Conrad suggested, and there was an edge of excitement in his voice at the prospect. Ace nodded and raised the bucket again. He was just about to bring it down on her head when his arm froze in place. Hanna saw that his usually vibrant eye color had dulled to a dark, sedated shade.

"Ace?" Hanna asked, but received no reaction to that name or any of the others that followed: "Manny? Robert? Allen?" The darkness in his partner's eyes increased and Hanna suddenly realized, zombie or not, that the demon was taking his life force. If that depleted, there would be nothing to animate his body…Fearful of losing his partner to such a creature, Hanna lost all earlier pretenses of civility and comedy, stabbing the Striga in the shoulder with the dagger. "Leave Gary alone!"

"Motherfucker!" she screamed, releasing Gary from her hold. The light did not return to Gary's eyes and the pail dropped from his hand, ringing out with a clattering sound against the old, dusty beams. Gary's right knee hit the floor, then the left, but then he did not move or lift his head, fueling Hanna's fears.

"We're in trouble," Conrad said, just seconds before he was hurled backwards from Hanna's side. His body crashed through one of the closed hallway doors a few feet from where they stood. A cloud of dust plumed upwards, followed by a low moan of rushed swears that told Hanna the vampire was—well, not alive, but—going to be okay. However, Hanna should have been looking forward instead of back, because with his attention on Conrad, he missed the invisible force that slammed him against the wall, reacting a second too late. Feeling as if he had been pinned by a brick wall, Hanna could not raise either of his hands, leaving him helpless to write a rune to defend himself. Beside him, Gary remained unmoving on his knees.

"It's about time…" the Striga said, and pulled herself out of the hole without any hindrances. She brushed her cloak off and straightened up, nearing Hanna with a low chuckle that sent his flesh crawling. She ripped the dagger from her shoulder and threw it down the hall, where it skidded and then slammed into the rotting baseboards. "You were so busy with your comedy routine that it must have slipped your mind exactly what someone like me is capable of…" The pressure against him increased and Hanna felt as if he was being forced beneath water, as it became harder and harder to breathe. Of course. Telekinesis.

As if an enemy wasn't already nasty enough.

"Dammit, Hanna…what the hell do you keep dragging me into…" came Conrad's muttering from down the hall. He came out into the corridor covered in dust and large splinters, wiping his glasses on the hem of his sweater. When he placed them back on the bridge of his nose, Hanna watched as his expression suddenly changed as he registered the scene. If possible, he went paler. "Uh…"

"Connie…you'd better run…" Hanna forced out with the bit of air that he had. His lips had taken the form of a smile despite the fact that the tables had turned drastically.

"Yes, Connie, you'd better run away," taunted the demon. Beneath the hood, Hanna saw her smile, revealing all of her long teeth. Conrad looked like he very much wanted to high-tail it out of there, but he remained, showing his own—smaller and less imposing—fangs.

"No way," he said, and then for good measure: "Bitch."

"You're kind of cute," said the Striga. The compliment threw Conrad a bit off balance and his stance faltered slightly.

"Y-You really think so…?" he asked, but before he realized that it was a distraction, his body was once again thrown into one of the abandoned rooms of the building. Hanna heard him crash through the door and then what sounded like another wall. A few things fell and then, it was silent, signifying that the force used had been enough to keep Conrad from getting back up. Hanna felt his added concern mounting, not only for his partner, but now for Conrad as well.

"You're all a little slow, aren't you?" asked the Striga, as she turned her attention back to Hanna. Her voice was mocking. "You didn't even know that the only way to kill me is to stab me through the heart while I'm feeding, not just in any damn place you please."

"Well, fuck…" Hanna said weakly, and no matter how he willed his hands to move, he could not do so.

"That's okay. I usually like them younger, but you've got more than enough life energy for me," she said, bearing her teeth. "And I could use a little snack." Hanna couldn't move away as she neared him or formulate any sort of defensive strategy as she went for his neck. Conrad was still not moving from the other room and Gary was—

CLANG!

"Cocksucking motherfucker…" groaned the Striga from the floor. The pressure suddenly gone from his chest, Hanna leaned against the wall for support momentarily as he processed what had happened.

"X-Xander!" Hanna said in relief at the sight of his partner standing over the demon with the mutilated bucket in his hand once more. He had come just before the Striga's fangs had pierced his throat, so Hanna gave him another thumbs up and a thankful smile: "Just in the nick of time…" With an agonizing slowness, Xander turned his head slightly towards Hanna, causing the redhead's enthusiasm to plummet. The light had not returned to his partner's eyes and it appeared as if it took every ounce of his willpower to make his body move. "Jim…?"

"Hanna…"

The weakness was apparent in Jim's voice, and Hanna tried to go to him, but had the zombie swept just out of his reach by the demon's power. His partner slid across the floor to the end of the hall, once again forced to his knees. If the bite had really taken that much out of him, Hanna knew that he could not take any more damage. There was only one thing left to do: destroy the Striga, even if that meant using himself as bait to do it. She was just regaining her footing, gripping her head from where she had been struck, when Hanna dashed for the dagger that had been thrown earlier. He had just wrapped his fingers around it when the redhead felt his body hurtle forward, like he had just been hit by a truck. Unable to control his body, Hanna slammed directly into Jim, causing the both of them to collide with the main baluster of the stairwell. The redhead lay partially on top of his partner, still gripping the dagger in his hand. However, he was dazed from the movement and barely felt the cool fingers against his neck.

"Han…na…" was all Jim could say, but Hanna could hear in his voice the unspoken are you alright?

"Jeez, Alphonse…you worry…too much…" Hanna murmured, shakily pushing himself up with a few panting breaths. But when he'd regained most of his bearings, Hanna glanced up at Alphonse's dull eyes and managed to smile reassuringly at him: "I'll fix everything...just relax."

"This is a really cute bromance and everything, but I'm pretty fucking annoyed by all of you," the Striga said, as she began walking toward them with a slow, purposeful gait. Hanna scrawled a rune onto his palm to get ready, just in case the dagger missed the first time…The demon did not seem to notice, continuing towards the place where they lay at the top of the stairs. "So first, I'm going to kill you. Then I'm going to kill your zombie friend again." Her hood turned to glance into one of the rooms with a broken door. "After that, I'm going to have my way with your little vampire friend. Then I'll stake him for funsies." She cackled and Hanna gripped the dagger tighter. "When I'm done with all of you, then I'll go out and find some more children. After twenty-five years, I've got a serious case of the munchies."

Hanna was about to reply to her to-do list with a snarky comment when the beams beneath them suddenly bowed as her weight joined them on their cross-section of the floor.

"Oh, shi—"

The old, decaying wood gave out, and the floor practically disintegrated beneath them, sending three bodies down to the landing below. With the force of their falling mass, however, those beams gave out as well, bringing them to the main floor of the building. Crashing through two floors, Hanna had curled into a fetal-like position to protect his body from any damage, but when gravity had stopped being a bitch and the dust had mostly settled, the redhead realized that he hadn't been too injured in the fall. Minus a few scrapes and an aching head, Hanna was all trembling but with no fatal wounds; probably a first for him. But then he realized exactly why he hadn't sustained much worse: Alphonse had latched onto him, holding Hanna against the long length of his body to protect him from the fall.

"Kirby?" Hanna asked, coughing due to the debris. Beneath him, Kirby did not stir and Hanna could not see that usual orange-gold light through the dust. "Ramses?" Leaning closer, Hanna could see that his eyes were half-open and still with that dark, syrupy color from before. The arm around his waist did not move, but Hanna felt the lightest pressure when Ramses moved his fingers against his rib in gesture that yes, he was still holding on. He could only smile and let out a shaky sigh of relief, which was short lived.

Behind Hanna, there was a terrible shriek and then a grip on his throat as he was pulled back from his partner's unmoving form.

"I'm fucking sick to death of you," the Striga told him, so close that Hanna could feel her foul breath against his skin.

"I'm fucking sick of you," Hanna replied, and thrust out his palm. The rune activated when it touched her shoulder, blowing off the appendage via the blast of blue magic that Hanna created. However, she still had a grip on him and in her rage, apparently did not notice the missing limb. Instead, her teeth sunk into Hanna's skin. The bite was so wide that it made a ring from his chest to the back of his shoulder, where Hanna felt heat and cold all at once. He could almost feel his energy being taken, as if all his warmth were being sucked out through a straw. The chill crept up next, rendering Hanna unable to move. His nerves froze and then his mind blanked. Somewhere in his semi-consciousness, he felt the dagger slip from his fingertips. A voice shouted from above. Outside, sirens began to wail.

So really, in all actuality, everything had gone to hell in a handbasket, but he would only realize that fact later because there was nothing but a numb, cold feeling as Hanna was consumed by the dark.