Usually after a night like that, Oz would have been exhausted, or at least a little groggy. But not this time. He had slept, a very deep sleep for that matter. He actually felt quite refreshed.
But then there were the dreams. He had dreamt of Willow--that was no surprise. Oz had had a lot of dreams about her since leaving Sunnydale again. This one was different though. In this dream, Willow was a vampire, and he was killing her.
After a Willow dream usually came one about Veruca or Tara. This time it was Veruca. Actually, it was a werewolf, but he knew that it was Veruca. And in that part, he was in werewolf form too. That disturbed him. Oz didn't like to think of himself that way.
As unsettling as those two dreams had been, the first dream was the
one that scared him the most. A black cloud lingered in the air before
him, threatening to make Oz part of itself.
Buffy snapped herself back into consciousness, realizing that she must have dozed off. She looked up at the clock. Only fifteen more minutes left on her history exam! Buffy started to panic as she lowered her pen to the paper.
All the answers were filled in. Buffy blinked and pinched herself. She didn't remember finishing it. Heck, she barely remembered that President Kennedy had been assassinated in 1963. Or was it '53?
I am really spacy today, she thought as she handed in her paper and left the room. I have got to get a grip.
When she reached her dorm room, she threw her books on the bed and smiled. No more school for three whole months, she thought happily. Just plenty of quality time with my friends and ample time for-
Something was eating at the back of her mind. Buffy tried hard to figure it out, but to no avail.
Willow wasn't back from her final yet, probably wouldn't be for another hour or so. Most of their things were already packed away, but Buffy made the best of the extra time by finishing filling her boxes. Her side was much messier than her friend's anyway, and they wanted to be able to leave ASAP -- they had a party to prepare for.
Buffy picked up a picture frame from her desk and put it in the box. It was a photo of her, Willow and Xander taken sometime in tenth grade. She smiled, thinking back to when it had been simple, just the three of them. Her gaze stopped on Xander, and her brow furrowed for a moment.
What is this reminding me of? Frustrated, she closed the box. Her mind
was not usually so fuzzy.
"What are you doing here so early?" asked Angel, standing in the shadowy doorway, sunlight streaming through the windows within inches of his face.
Cordelia huffed, but Wesley only have her a satisfactory smile.
"Is it a crime for me to be early on occasion?" she asked smartly. She glared at Angel. "Besides, isn't it past your bedtime? What are you doing up?"
Angel gave her a hint of a smile and then was serious again. "I remembered something that I need to do. After that I couldn't sleep."
"Cordelia had a bad dream," said Wesley, clearly patronizing her. "She's determined that it's a bad omen or such."
"I am not," insisted Cordelia. "It was just freaky. And I don't usually have freaky dreams."
"Nightmares are a very common anomaly of the human existence. Thought not usually explainable, they aren't unheard of."
She simply rolled her eyes and turned to her employer for defense.
Angel only smirked. "I'll leave you two to your discussion. You can tell me about your dream when I get back," he said to Cordelia and then turned to go.
Cordelia tried to throw a "so there" look at Wesley, but he didn't notice.
"You have some business to attend to?"
Turning back around, Angel held up a small gold mask. "Just paying my respects," he said simply, and then disappeared into the darkness of his apartment.
Cordelia looked confused. "Paying his respects to the guy with the gross maggot face he told us about?" She wrinkled up her nose as she pictured Angel's description.
"No," said Wesley softly. "To the Oracles."
"I beseech access to the knowing ones," said Angel confidantly. With a flash of light, he was in.
The room was darker than before, presumably because of the loss of it's occupants. Now not even the defiled bodies of the Oracles remained.
Angel knelt down in front of where the pair normally would have stood. He place the mask on the floor in front of him and bowed his head.
"Your gift," he said softly. "A piece of the one who brought about your destruction. I only hope that with this door closed, as you said before, another door will open."
He stood up, straightened his coat and prepared to leave. The oracles had never really been comforting, but their absense was even less so. Angel liked to have someone to question, no matter how conceited or enigmatic the answer.
He wanted to be able to ask them about the dream--his reminder to come here. His dream that the Oracles were still alive, and the darkness that had preceded it.