A/N: My first Buffy fic! Yay! hops I'm so nervous about this, so hopefully you'll all like it. Let me know what you think!


Blood--it was everywhere; on the ground, on her. It coated her skin, leaving sticky dark red patches and forming a thin crust over her tattered clothes. Her mouth felt gritty--dust mixed with the faintly metallic flavor of blood. Her ears buzzed, adding to the confusion in her mind. She waded through a mire of scattered thoughts, finally forming a single coherent question.

Where am I?

Nothing looked familiar.

She struggled to her feet, well aware of every scratch and bruise on her body. As she wavered, fighting for balance, she sluggishly took a mental count of her injuries. Her left leg throbbed, a constant rhythm that followed the beating of her heart. A long gash in her shirt revealed more blood. My blood.

She pulled at her shirt in an attempt to gauge the severity of the wound. The ringing in her ears intensified, carrying a tidal wave of nausea with it. She wavered, reaching tentative fingers to brush the soft skin on her forehead. Ah. That would explain the buzzing. She withdrew her fingers, numbly gazing at the fresh blood that now dripped from her bruised digits.

"Buffy!"

She blinked once. Tearing her gaze away from the blood, she looked across the dusty landscape. Heat shimmered and danced above the ground, forming a confusing mirage of light. Rocks of various shapes and sizes littered the flat ground; some looked like dinosaur eggs waiting to hatch. Talking dinosaur eggs, apparently.

"Buffy!" the eggs called again.

She stared at one, slowly blinking again. Should she answer it? Maybe it was some hell-beast trying to lure her into a trap. Should she try to run?

Before her stunned mind had time to reach a decision, she felt hands gently grip her shoulders. She turned slowly, looking up into familiar dark eyes. Stunned, she stared in silence for a long breath. "Angel?"

He reached for her, his fingers gently brushing her face. Features lined with concern, he took in her battered and bloodied appearance. "You're hurt."

"Angel," she said again. He was here, really here. She could feel him, smell him...he was here!

"It's okay," he soothed. Angel moved to lift her in his arms, but with a panicked gasp, she stopped him.

"The sun! You'll burn."

"I'm fine, Buffy."

"But you'll...!"

"Buffy," he caught her as she struggled, careful not to hurt her. "I'm not leaving you."

"Never?"

He gently took her face in his hands and brushed her forehead with his lips. "I promise."

Even as he said the words, as she wearily smiled and let him carry her to safety, she knew it wasn't real. As soon as she woke, the vision would fade and she would be left to deal with the crushing weight of reality once more. The Angel she knew and loved was gone, buried beneath the soulless monster that had stolen his life.

Rolling once, Buffy hugged her pillow close and fell back into the dream. Let her friends call her crazy, obsessed, whatever. She had to believe there was hope.