Dream and Hob

1300's a small, cheap tavern near Londoninium

A very pale couple, dark and unearthly stand outside the White Horse tavern. They are both dressed as the wealthiest nobles of the era. The man turns to the woman and protests that he doesn't see the point.
"It will be good for you to get out, to at least meet the people. To see them on your terms, not your own," She says.
"Very well, my sister," the man says.
They enter the pub and take a seat, it reeks of woodsmoke and it's filthy, unbathed patrons. The woman orders a penny-ale and the man orders a dark mead.
In the corner a loud, cheerfull man holds court, amusing his fellow drunkards.
"I'm telling you, death's a fool's game. The only reason people die is because they accept it. I'm done, it's trap. I expect the lot you you will die, 'cause yer stupid, but not me." The people laugh and cheer him on.
"A delegation from the Fay arrived. They are talking about leaving this plane forever," the pale man says.
"Hush, I want to listen to this," she says to her brother.
The man keeps talking about how he's going to live forever.
"Very well, sister. I'll take you up on it."
"Who's going to tell him, you or me?" the woman asks.
"I will tell him," says Morpheus.

He approaches the man, Hob Gadling.
"So, you wish to not touch Death. Very well, she won't come for you unless you want her to. If you have not died I will see you here, in this tavern in 100 year's time," he says.

Hob and his friends laugh.
"I'll be here, stranger," Hob laughs.

1400s

The White Horse tavern has changed in the intervening century. A chimney has been added and some of the people complain about it.

Hob Gadling sits in the corner and wonders if the pale man will show up. Sure enough, he does, wearing clothes modern to the highest royalty of the era. He orders a dark mead and sits down next to Hob.

"I don't know how you knew, but you did. Have I unwittingly made some kind of deal with the Devil? Are you the Devil? You're certainly pale enough," Hob says.

"I am no devil, Hob Gadling, mearly an interested party."

Hob tells Dream of the wonders he's seen over the past century.
After the meeting is over Dream stands.
"Same time, in 100 years?"

"I'll be here," Hob says.

1500s

Hob, dressed very fine and drinking and eating the best food sits and waits for the mysterious stranger. He laughs at the new innovations he's seen over the past 200 years.
Dream comes in and sits next to him. Hob begins to tell him how he's become a noble, fighting in various wars, making his fortune. How he's gotten re-married and had his first son in over 200 years.

In another corner two playwrites and actors sit and discuss one of them's talent and the other's lack of it.

"Who is that young man talking?" asks Dream.
"Oh, him? Wil something. Acts a bit, wrote a play."
"Is he any good?"
"No, he's rubbish," laughs Hob. "His friend, Marlow, now he's good," Hob says.
"I have some business to attend to, in 100 years?"
"I'll be here," says Hob.
Hob surveys the bar, happy with life.

Dream approaches the young man bemoaning his lack of talent.
"Will Shaxbeard?" asks Dream.
"Yes, have we met?" the playwrite asks.
"We have, but men forget in waking hours. I have some business to discuss with you."

1600s

Dream sits in the White Horse tavern, dressed in high Parisian style and waits for Hob. He sips his mead and watches the patrons around him.
There's a commotion at the door, a drunken beggar is screaming as the doorman tries to keep him out. The man is filthy, ragged and looks starved.

"Let him in," Dream says. "He's with me."

Hob sits at Dream's table and begins to talk about all the losses he's suffered. About how his wife died in childbirth, then his son grew old and died. How he can't remember what his wife looked like anymore, he's even pawned the portrait he had painted of her. About how they tried to burn him at the stake because he didn't drop out and relocate fast enough. And about how hungry a man can get if he doesn't eat and doesn't die of starvation. He ends by telling Dream he has been miserable for the last 80 years.

"So, are you ready for Death, then?" Dream asks.

"What, are you kidding? I have so much to live for!" says Hob.

1700s

Dream and Hob sit in the White Horse and talk about how Hob's business has been going. Hob describes how he's been trading, then got into the slave trade, moving men from Africa to America. Dream expresses disapproval.
They discuss the changes done to some of Shakespear's plays, Dream tells Hob that they'll return to their original form very soon.

"You made a deal with him, didn't you?" Hob asks.
"Perhaps," replies Dream.

"You know, we've been meeting here for hundreds of years and I still don't know much about you. Who are you? What's your name?"

"I could ask you two gentlemen the same question," a woman's voice calls out.

Two men at arms put knives to Dream and Hob's throats and a blonde, well-dressed woman approaches.

"I heard rumours that once a century the Devil and the Wandering Jew meet in this tavern. I found a note on a dead man five years ago, it named this night."

"I am no devil," says Dream for the second time in the same tavern.
"And I am not Jewish," says Hob Gadling, laughing.

"The what manner of creatures are you?" the woman asks. "Never mind, I am Lady Johanna Constantine and you're coming to my coach, we have much to discuss."

"No, I don't believe I shall," says Dream, reaching into his pouch and letting some of the black, sparkling dust trail towards her and her men-at-arms.
The men fall asleep and Lady Johanna stares straight ahead, a look of sadness and horror on her face.

"I knew a Jack Constantine once, a long time ago. Got his throat slit in an alley for his troubles. What have you done to her?"

"Shown her old ghosts. Her kind walk amongst the flotsam of the lives they've sacrificed for their own purposes, 'till friendless and alone they needs must make the final sacrifice." Dream says, he considers Johanna for a moment. "I have further use of her," he says, standing to leave.

"Yeah, Jack was like that, too," Hob says.

"Hob, it is a poor thing to enslave another man. Remember that,' Dream says, walking out.

1800s

Dream is accosted by a prostitute outside the pub, she screams and curses at him when he ignores her and walks on in.

Hob is waiting for him, smoking a cigar. Very few vestiges of the original White Horse Tavern remain, it has changed a lot since they first started meeting, but it is still standing.

"I started showing up a few weeks ago, don't want a repeat of the last time's mess. How did that turn out with her?" Hob asks.

"She did a service for me, she has been repaid."

"You were right about the slave-trade, my lord. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for that."

Dream and Hob make small talk.

"You know, I've noticed I'm not the only bugger around that doesn't
die. There's an old woman out on Compton, Mad Hettie, she's at least
200, I think. And an man named Blood, sometimes he doesn't seem to
remember me, I hate to think of how old his is," Hob begins, Dream
listens.

"So it occurs to me that you're not here to see what happens when a man
doesn't die. You've seen that. I think you're lonely and you need a
friend."



"You dare! You dare to presume that I would need the company of mortals?" Dream says, standing up and begining to walk out.

"I do, my lord. I do. I tell you what, I will be here in 100 year's time. if you show back up, it's because we're friends, and only because of that reason," Hob says, watching Dream leave.

1900s
Hob recieves a note from Dream's sister, it simply has a new date on it, same location.

2000s

Smallville
Dream kisses Chloe goodnight as she gets in her car to tell her friends about their engagement. He smiles to himself and checks the time.

London, White Horse Tavern

Hob Gadling sits alone in the White Horse, listening to the same conversations that have been playing out for hundreds of years. He sighs, and starts to get up to leave when he sees Dream walking in and smiling at him.

"I... I didn't think you were going to come," Hob says, smiling back.

"Really?" Dream says. "I've always been told that it's impolite to keep one's friends waiting."