With a gasping, agonized, breath he whispered his beloved's name. The breath was filled with such longing and heartache, the very wind felt pity for him. It decided to carry the man’s whisper to his beloved so that she may hear his voice one last time.
It carried the breath over great rivers that would drown out the sound of her name with their mighty roars.
It carried the breath through tantalizing forests capable of swaying the word from the it’s grasp with but a gentle caress.
It carried the breath between the tall mountains and deep valleys, where their unending struggle of gale force threatened to tear the wind apart.
The wind endured these perils and more, until finally it could go no further. Before it lay the vast and turbulent ocean. It could think of no way to cross such a distance, but the wind did not despair. Instead, it called upon one that may help. The call was answered and the King of Dreams appeared!
“Little wind,” he said. “Why do you cry for my help?” Thus, the wind told it’s tale. When it was finished, the dream king nodded solemnly. “You have done well. Rest now, for I shall relieve you of your burden.”
Thought it felt great pride at his words, the wind gave only the humblest of thanks as it faded into it’s well deserved reward. Moments later, Dream too vanished.
The man waited for death’s warm embrace and dreamed of her. In this dream he told her of how great his love for her truly was. And that he would miss her. The woman smiled tearfully and promised he would always be in her heart.
They kissed. Softly at first, but growing more, and more, passionate until…
After she awoke, the woman stood before her window, waiting for someone to arrive and tell her what she already knew.
“Angel,” she whispered. “Goodbye.”
In the Dreaming, the land’s king stood in his castle, contemplating his actions. His servant and adviser, Lucien, approached.
“My lord,” Lucien began. “ Might I ask you a question?” Dream nodded his assent., “Why did you assist in such a trivial matter?”
The king paused, his introspective gaze turning outwards and to his tall and gangly servant.
“The matter was not trivial, Lucien. Not at all.” Dream sighed, walking out to his balcony to look upon his land. “The death of a Champion never is.”
Lucien nodded in understanding. “I think I see, lord.” Dream looked at him questioningly.
“Do you? Truly?” Lucien frowned in confusion. “This was one of the greatest Champions to have ever graced the mortal realm. True, in his time he has done unspeakable evil, as far as humans reckon. But by that same reckoning, he has also accomplished undeniable good.”
“Every night, he would enter my realm and wage war against his demons. Thus, I was privy to just how much he has endured over the centuries.”
Lucien’s confusion mounted. “But you are privy to the dreams and nightmares of… Well of everything, my lord. Why was this one Champion different than any of the other ones throughout history?”
"He wasn't, Lucien. There was nothing special about him.“ Dream smiled faintly, the black pools of his eyes a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin and hair. He turned his gaze to the forever changing landscape of his realm.
Lucien opened his mouth to question further, but thought better of it. Instead he bowed respectfully and resumed his duties.
Angel was created by Joss Whedon. Dream was created by Neil Gaiman.