Chapter Seven

"Five have become four." The woman said thoughtfully, rubbing her chin as she spoke.

"Yes." Dream replied, looking steadily at the woman. "What do you want."

"The one who died. He bore the mark of Destiny."

Dream shrugged nonchalantly. "So what if he did."

"He died anyway."

"Everyone mortal dies, Thessalian. Why must you bore me with such idiocy?"

"Just like your son." She hissed, enjoying the way he jumped at her comment. "Your group is falling apart, as is your Realm."

"The group has never been mine, and my Realm is under my control, as ever." Dream brushed off her statement as ridiculous. "The Backstreet Boys served their purpose."

"Which was?"

"Music invokes emotion, does it not?"

Thessaly crooked an eyebrow at Dream. "So?"

"Music inspires dreams, desires, despair."

She laughed and shook a finger at him. "Why you sneaky fox. The usual methods of inspiration weren't working with mortals, so you created a music group?"

Dream shook his head in annoyance. "There are no usual methods, Thessalian."

"And you have no issues over killing one of your own?"

"The fifth was not one of mine."

She shrugged, "your brother's, then."

"My brother did his part, as did I."

Thessaly took off her glasses and peered at Dream carefully. "You're lying to me. You don't work with your siblings like that, I know you."

Dream shrugged. "Believe what you wish."

"It couldn't be that simple."

"Nothing ever is."

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Nick threw down the pencil in frustration, staring at the words on the paper. It just wasn't working. He'd published a book a poetry the year before, an inspired group of poems about heartbreak and death. He used the book to work through his depression over Brian's death, and found something of a rebirth in putting the thoughts down on paper. Become a father twice in the last few years hadn't hurt either, seeing his own eyes smiling up at him from a child's face was the most awe inspiring thing he'd ever seen. He understood then why Death was so beautiful. Anything that gave life such as this had to be….

But now he was trying to write about something a bit less depressing, since he wasn't feeling so awful anymore, and it just wasn't working. It was a cliché, that a happy artist was a bad artist, but it was strange to find the saying strangely accurate in his own life…

He looked up at the knock on the door, thankful for the interruption. "Hey Kev," he waved in his old friend, glad to see him. "What's up?"

Kevin held up an envelope. "AJ sent this." AJ had launched an extremely successful solo career, and had been touring the world for the last few years, selling out arenas and stadiums left and right.

"I heard from Howie the other day," Nick offered, accepting the envelope. "He's working on his sister's new album in California."

"Cool," Kevin smiled, sitting down to watch Nick open the package. It was fun to see how much his little buddy had grown up over the years, and what a mature adult he'd become. "I think I finally finished that song I'd been working on." He smiled, remembering his happiness at finally finishing the passage. He'd fallen in love with songwriting over the last few years, giving up producing and performing all together, and concentrating solely on writing songs for other artists.

"Oh wow," Nick pulled out the pictures and started going through them with a grin. They were old pictures of the Backstreet Boys, must have been from AJ's personal collection. "Look at all of us, we were so young."

Kevin nodded, blinking rapidly as tears formed in his eyes at the sight of Brian. How he missed his cousin… "So long ago."

"We will always be five, you know." Nick met Kevin's gaze steadily, ignoring the tear that slowly made its way down his cheek. "Brian's there, watching us."

Kevin nodded again, and his hand wrapped around the locket at his neck. "I've wondered if I could use this to see him again."

"He's dead." Nick said mournfully.

"What does that mean, though?"

"It means he's dead," a deep voice replied. "I'm knocking."

"Most people do that on the door." Kevin smiled wryly, turning his head to look at Dream. "I didn't use the locket."

"You said you would sing for me again." Dream said.

"A long time ago." Kevin replied cautiously. He hadn't actually sung in front of an audience in years, neither had Nick.

"I have need for entertainment." Dream replied. "If you comply, I will answer one question from each of you."

Kevin and Nick looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Could they sing without Brian? With the prize they were being offered, they had to try.

"Fine." Kevin nodded. "We accept.."

"I will see you in your Dreams, then." The man nodded, and was gone.

That night, both Nick and Kevin expected to be visited by the dark man, to have their opportunity to ask their questions. But that chance never came, and they moved on with their lives, wondering when the man would come to collect. Never imagining how closely their own world had become intertwined with that of the Endless, never realizing for one of the Endless to die, they first had to lose another of their own…..

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"Hi." The woman sat down at the table next to Howie, smiling at him through the thick lenses of her glasses.

Howie finished off his shot of tequila before turning his gaze to the small woman, looking at her through hazy eyes. "Hi."

"Want another? On me?" She gestured to his empty glass and smiled. "You look like you could use it."

Howie nodded and watched as she waved to the bartender for a refill. His life had been going downhill lately, ever since Brian's death there had been a darkness inside of him he'd been unable to shake. His wife was happiest in the local country club they belonged to in Florida, and his children were working on careers of their own…they didn't need dad in their way. He was in LA, among the pretty people, trying to work on his sister's third album, but all he could see was hate, and death. He wanted no part of it anymore, and tequila worked to numb the pain. To an extent, anyway. He raised the refilled glass in the air and threw it back quickly, wincing as the liquid burned his throat.

"Want to get out of here?" The woman offered, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "No questions…you look like you could use a friend."

Howie's eyes narrowed as he examined the woman. Something about her looked familiar, but there was nothing about her he recognized. And she certainly didn't seem to know him. Then again, not many people did these days, with his short hair and scuffy beard, he was a far cry from the Howie D. of the Backstreet Boys he had been just a few years before. He shrugged, and followed the woman out of the dark bar and to her car. He got inside, not caring where they went, not paying attention as she drove them through the streets of LA.

They finally stopped at an old, worn down house, parking the car in the small driveway out front.

"It's not much, but it's all mine," she smiled lightly, and waved him in.

Howie followed her in, quickly finding her couch and sitting down. "Got anything to drink?" He asked.

"Sure, hon," she found a bottle of tequila in her cabinet and sat down next to him, holding two glasses. "Here."

Howie accepted the bottle and poured both of them a shot, downing his quickly. "Thanks," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What's wrong? You don't look happy," she asked softly.

"What's your name?" Howie looked at her, still feeling an uncomfortable twinge of recognition.

"I'm Thessaly," she replied, knowing he wouldn't know the name.

"I'm Howie." He replied. "Howie D," he choked on the nickname, and shook his head. "Not anymore."

"Not what anymore?"

"Ever feel like your best days are behind you? That it's all downhill from here?" He turned a pair of teary eyes to her.

She nodded. "I was just thinking this morning I should just end it. Why live it if it's only going to get worse, right?"

Howie nodded emphatically. "Exactly. I know they can handle me leaving, they're surviving Brian's death ok. So why stick around?"

"If you really feel that strongly, Howie," Thessaly summoned up the most compassionate tone she could, "then you really should just go for it. It's your life, after all."

"Yeah, it's my life." Howie agreed, his mind swept up in the idea. If he just ended it all, he wouldn't have to hurt anymore.

Thessaly pushed him towards a mirror, telling him to look at himself. "What do you see, Howie?" She stared at his reflection, hoping that he was seeing what she thought he would be.

Howie's eyes widened as he stared into the mirror. Despair's realm was filled with mirrors, such is the way you see in, but he didn't know that, of course. But looking into his own eyes in the mirror, he saw her. She turned a set of familiar tear stained eyes to him, and smiled pitifully. "What…" he stumbled away from the mirror in shock, falling down on the floor in surprise.

"You had a lot to drink, nothing," Thessaly reassured him, hiding her grin. It didn't matter if Howie dismissed what he'd seen as hallucination, the damage had been done. He'd seen a place that felt like home to him, and that sensation would not let him go.

Howie returned to his hotel a few hours later, a bottle of prescription pills in his hand. He was still fuzzy on the details of what had happened tonight, but he was sure about one thing…he hadn't felt so good since he'd decided tonight would be his last night on earth. This hopelessness, this despair, it was familiar to him, and embracing it was the only option he had left.

Howie walked into his room and pulled a bottle of water out of the mini-bar, having an idiotic thought about not wanting to mix alcohol with pills. He poured the bottle of pills into his hand, and filled his mouth, swallowing heavily with the water. He repeated until the entire bottle was empty, and his stomach full of the deadly medicine. "Goodbye," he whispered, pulling out a photo album to flip through while he waited for the end to come. "I will miss you all."

"Then why'd ya do it, silly?"

Howie sat up in surprise, seeing the beautiful woman sitting on the couch across from him. "What?"

"Why did you do it, if you're gonna miss them?" Death sighed, and extended her hand. "Don't you know what kind of trouble you cause when you do stuff like this? Come on, let's go."

"Go where?" Howie put his hand in hers and stood up, his eyes widening when he saw his body remain on the couch below. "Am I dead?"

"Yes."

"Do I get to see Brian, then?"

Death looked at him through a pair of sad, tired eyes, shaking her head slowly. "I'm afraid not, Howard."

"But why not?" Howie stared at her and jerked his hand back in protest. "Wait, I don't want to go, not unless I can see Brian."

"You were touched by Despair, Howie, I'm afraid that's where you're going now." She firmly grabbed his hand and pulled. "You chose this fate for yourself, it was not written this way."

"But, no, please…" Howie fought her as hard as he could, but she was stronger than she looked, and they moved on steadily. "I didn't mean to, please…."

"It's times like this I really hate my job," the woman grumbled, and walked on.

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"Four have become three." The woman smirked.

"Are you pleased with what you've done?" The dark man asked solemnly. "Condemn an innocent soul to an eternity of torture?"

"Your time is done, Morpheus," Thessaly smiled. "For that, yes, it was worth it."

"His time had not come yet."

She shrugged. "Soon enough, it would have. What's a year or two here or there."

"An eternity for suicide, Thessaly," Dream hissed, his eyes blazing with anger. "He lived a life of despair, his death should have been free of such pain."

"Whatever. Do you think Delirium and Desire will stop me if I go after the other two? I know you won't be able to stop me if I try to touch the third one," she grinned and cackled, an evil, mean laugh. "You're not going to be around now, will you."

"I may not be here, but I assure you, whoever is in my place, will destroy you." Dream replied evenly. "You will pay for what you've done."

"Sure I will," she waved. "I have a funeral to get dressed for. I'll see you later, Dream."

"Not in my lifetime, Thessalian."

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