In Dreams

By Kal

This is some weird dream. Something that comes and goes, in such a hazy, bizarro world way, that you know you are dreaming, and yet… you just can't break free.

"Can someone please explain to me, just why we are at a Barry Manilow concert?"

"For Angel, silly!" Wesley answered., a bit annoyed that Spike was talking during the performance.

"A, I don't like Manilow. B, I don't like Angel. And C, weren't we just fighting hordes of creepy crawlies, and dragons, and such?"

"We've died, um, again, and this is our reward," Angel beamed as he grooved along to "Mandy".

"Not mine," Spike responded, with disgust and contempt.

"Well, maybe this is your version of Hell?" Wesley responded with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah. Manilow. You. Angel. Yep, this is Hell, all right. Complete with happy, saccharine songs."

"Spike, shut up!" Angel growled. "If you don't zip it, and now, you'll be drinking blood from a straw!"

"I do that already."

"Spike, don't make me do something to wreck the concert. Like hurl you at the rafters."

"Oooh, I'm shaking in my booties, I am."

"Spike, will you please shush!" Fred pleaded. "Please, just let it go."

"You like Manilow! And…" Spike began, as a foggy memory beckoned to him. "There's something really weird going on here."

"Yeah, like why in the hell, did we invite you to come along!" Gunn sighed in annoyance.

"No, like Wesley's dead, you're dying, and Fred's dead and possessed by an ancient God. That kind of weird. Yet here we are at a Manilow concert, watching Angel's futile attempt at dancing.. Any moment now Rod Sterling's going to come out and do the Twilight Zone intro."

"Oh, Spike. You just gotta learn to relax," a familiar female voice said as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Buffy!"

"Yeah? I was invited, remember?"

"No. No, I don't remember any of this!"

"Spike, SHUT UP!" Angel yelled as his fist struck the back of Spike's head.

The ruckus caused Manilow to pause mid-song, and the concert goers turned to stare at a glowering Angel and a prone Spike.

"It's okay, folks. Just go back to the concert. Just a nasty, um.."

"I wouldn't recommend saying "vampire", Angel. That could cause a panic," Wesley whispered.

"Oh, yeah. Anyhow, don't worry, folks, I'm with security. Barry, I'm a big fan. So, please, continue. And if you could sing "Mandy" again, that'd be great. Thanks!"

"You know, maybe Spike has a point. I don't feel so hot," Gunn said as he leaned on a auditorium seat.

"Gunn, shut up!"

"I feel positively cold," Wesley stated numbly.

"So do I," Fred whispered, horror shining through in her eyes and voice.

"No! Everything's just fine! Everything's…."

"Dreaming again?" Spike asked, as he lit a cigarette.

Angel lay motionless on his bed, staring at the ceiling, "Yeah."

"About them?"

"Yeah. Is there anything else?"

"No. Just heard you yelling my name and wanted to know what all the ruckus was about."

Disclaimer: All Angel characters belong to Joss Whedon and Co. This little fan fic is meant as pure, harmless fun, and as such, no profit is being made from it.