Some plot points are taken from BTVS season two episode "Halloween."  No copyright infringement was intended.

Thanks to Kristi for the great reviews.

Buffy's POV.

            Ah, Halloween.  The hellmouth's answer to a day off. 

            Willow and I have finally picked out costumes, but both of us have kept them secret from one another, promising that we well get ready together at my house.

            Xander and Angel will be meeting us here later, and then we'll head to the Bronze for some party fun.

            As I slide my dress on over my head, I think about that dream again.  The dream actually kind of inspired my current wardrobe.

            I'm going as a princess, actually.

            I thought it might make a nice change from all the tomboyish slayer wear that I normally dress in.  I don't get much of a chance to dress up anymore; it's kind of hard to patrol in skirts and high heels.  Although I do make an effort.

            The dress is violet, with white lace accents.  Mom curled my hair into what she called an "up do" before she left for her own party.  Hmmm.  Come to think about it, it's a little weird that mom should have a party to go to.  When has she had time to make friends here?  And are there men friends?

            …anyway, not to worry.  She's gone for the night, and the four of us can have an awesome Bronzey time without worrying about vamp tactics for one night.

            "Buffy, you ready?" Willow calls out from behind the dressing screen I have in my room. 

            "Almost," I reply, "Just let me add the final thing."

            I slide on the see through high heels I found at a yard sale, no less, and twirl in the mirror.  Perfect.  Cinderella at your service.

            My hair looks great, put up in ringlets on top of my head.  The dress looks awesome, and the shoes are the best.  Angel doesn't know what he's getting into.

            "Okay, Wills, I'm ready."

            She emerges from behind the screen, and I smile expectantly, then let it wilt when I see her.

            "Uh, Willow, what is that?"

            "It's my costume," she says.  "You like?  It's pretty retro."

            She's dressed head to toe in a man's suit.  Complete with fedora and drawn on mustache.

            "Willow," I admonish her, "You were supposed to be sexy!  Xander is not gonna look at you in that and go 'wow, that's a really hot guy!'."

            "I-I know, Buffy, I just, I couldn't do it," she rushes, holding the outfit I had given her.  "It's too much.  And when even I blush looking at myself, we know it's not a good time for Willow.  I can't wear this.  I'm sorry," she finishes miserably, and I shake my head, my hair bouncing around my cheeks, hitting me and feeling really weird.

            "But you!  Wow, turn around, and let me see."

            I dimple, and comply.  "Don't you like?"

            She grins, and whistles.  "Angel's gonna freak.  Wow.  Where did you find that?  And why?"

            I shrug, pointing my foot out from under the dress, to show her the slippers.

            "My dream, well, me and Angel's dream actually.  I thought it was a great idea.  I have princesses on the brain, so might as well dress the part.  It actually belongs to a lady who works with mom," I say, and turn back to the mirror, checking my earrings, and fluffing my hair for the umpteenth time.

            "You really think he'll like it?" I ask shyly, and Willow bursts into peals of laughter.

            "Trust me, Buffy, oh yeah, he will."

            At that moment the doorbell rings, and since it isn't quite dark, I know it's Xander.  "Quick, Willow, get behind that screen and change," I tell her, handing her back the sexy outfit I had picked out for her.  "Quick,now while I let Xander in."

            "But, Buffy, I can't-"  she starts, and I shove her behind the bamboo screen.

            "No buts, Wills.  I'll be right back."

            Xander stands at the door and stares.  "Buffy.  Duchess of Buffonia.  I am in awe.  May I bow to the gorgeousness that is you?"  He executes a horrible bow, and I laugh as he kisses my hand.  "You may, sir.  Now come in, and what are you supposed to be anyway?"

            Xander hefts the plastic machine gun in his hand, and pulls on the chain around his neck, revealing dog tags attached to it.

            "Sargeant Harris, at your service, Ma'am," he says, "the cheapest, easiest costume I could dig out of storage in the attic.  Where's Willow?"

            "I'm here!"  she says, and I turn excitedly, ready to gauge Xander's reaction to her costume.

            "Wow, Willow, um…that's a great Groucho outfit.  Very…retro."

            I scowl up at her, crossing my arms.  "Uh, huh.  Nice, Wills."

            She smiles meekly at me, and continues down the stairs.

            "So," Xander says, clapping his hands together, "Where's your creature of the night boyfriend?"

            I swat his arm, apparently a little too hard, because he gasps and yanks his elbow out of my way.  I frown at him as well.

            "He'll meet us at the Bronze shortly.  You guys ready?"

            "As we'll ever be," he answers, still rubbing his arm.  I swish out the door, head held in what I assume is a princess-like manner.  It actually kinda makes my neck kink.

            The Bronze is packed, full to the gills with screaming, dancing, laughing, and sweating bodies.  Almost everyone is in costume, and I manage to snag a few seats on the edge of one of the couches in the corner by the coffee stand.  Xander and Willow plop down next to me, and Willow pulls on my arm.

            "This band is really good!  I think they go to our school," she shouts, and I nod.  "They have a funky name, right?  Something about Coyotes swallowed my doll?"

            She laughs, and answers, "Close.  Dingoes ate my baby.  Isn't that funny?"

            I nod, because I'm sure she can't hear me over the music.

            The guys are really rocking, and I do recognize the guitar player and the singer.  Devon, I think and…Ox?  Cow?  Oh, wait.  Oz.  He's in my History class.

            I lean over to tell Willow I do know some of them, and our foreheads crack together, as she had been leaning in to tell me something at the same time.

            "Ooh!" she moans, and I suck in a breath, agreeing.  "Sorry.  What were you gonna say?" I ask, my hand rubbing my brow.

            "I just saw Angel," she says, just as a tingly feeling abruptly flip flops my stomach.  I look about, and sure enough, there he is, standing by the coffee bar, looking around.  I hope for us.

            I raise my hand to wave it at him, and he meets my eyes the second I do so.

            "Whoa," I whisper, and Willow echoes me with her own "Wha?"

            Does the guy clean up good, or what?

            Crimson silk shirt, black pants, oh my god are they leather?, and shining black boots complete the look.  He walks over to us, and I see he has a black handkerchief tied in a knot at the back of his hair as well. 

            "Oh, my God, Angel, are you a pirate?" I ask, my hand covering my mouth, trying to hide my huge grin.  Or perhaps to wipe off some of the drool I know is there.

            He sits next to me, and shrugs.  "I had all this at home.  Easy to do," he finishes, his mouth quirking sideways in a smile.  He looks at me, and his mouth drops open, and his eyes do the once over on me and my kick outfit.

            "I- Buffy.  Wow.  Stand up," he commands, and I do.  I twirl for him, and drop into a nice curtsey at the end, for which I will thank mom forever for teaching me how to do for the look which appears on his face after I've done it.

            "You look absolutely beautiful," he says softly, as I sit back down next to him.  I beam, and dig a hand into Willow's arm as she pokes me in the ribs.

            "Thank you.  It's nothing, just something I dug up," I say, trying to sound bashful.  Not succeeding.  I love this costume.  Thank you, whoever sent me those dreams.  Speaking of which…

            "Have you heard anything from Giles?" Angel asks, and I nod.  "Just earlier tonight, actually.  But it's not much to go on.  He says that the Watcher's council are looking into all references to shared dreams involving any slayers.  And that it might 'be a while' according to him.  So we are free to play tonight."

            "Thank goodness, I was beginning to wonder if we were actually gonna do anything except sit here and talk about Buffy's outfit," Xander snipes, and I shoot a look his way.  Willow pinches him on  the arm I didn't hit, and she stands, pulling him with her.  "We're gonna get coffees?  What do you guys want?"  She asks.

            "Oh, just a mocha for me, thanks.  Angel?"  I look at him, and he answer Willow, but he's looking only at me.

            "Nothing, thanks, I'm not thirsty," he says quietly, and she chirps quickly, "Okay, we'll be right back."

            "Take your time, no hurry," I yell after them, and turn back to him as he takes my hand in his.

            "You make me forget there's anything in the world that I could want besides you," he whispers, and I melt right there into a puddle of limp princess wanna-be.

            "I thought I was a drug that you can't get off of," I say back, and tremble as his hand moves from my hand to my cheek.

            "I don't want to be free of you," he tells me, and I smile, thanking whoever that that had been his answer.  What did I do to deserve him?  Wait, I don't care, just let him stay here.

            He scoots over next to me, and I lean into him, running my hand up his broad chest.  He grabs my fingers, and brings them to his lips, placing the tiniest of kisses there.  Gooseflesh breaks out on my arms, and he looks at me askance.

            "Buffy, are you cold?" he asks, and pulls me closer into his arms.

            "N-no.  Never with you," I say, and his grin lights up the dank corner we currently occupy.

            Our eyes meet again, and I'm lost suddenly in the reflection there.  I see me, but I see him, too.  And I see hundreds of stars, and and the moon, and dark, beautiful fields, covered in lush grass.  And I see love there as well. 

            "Angel," I whisper, saying his name like the blessing it is.

            He kisses me then, and the noise and the shouting and the damp feeling in the room shrink to nothingness, and all I can feel is him.

            He plies me with gentle pressure at first, and I kiss him back, slowly, tentatively.  He slants his head, deepening the contact, and my heart speeds up, and I practically climb into his lap.  I can't seem to get close enough to him.

            His arms wrap around my back, and I wind mine around his neck, resting one hand on the nape.  He nips at my lower lip, and I sigh, opening my mouth on instinct.

            His tounge slides in, and touches mine ever so slowly. 

            I'm burning up; I'm as cold as ice; I'm soaked in sweat; and I'm dying with need.  The desire to have him closer, deeper, inside me, inside my skin, devouring me, is so intense that I have to break away from him, resting my head on his shoulder, panting harshly.

            "You okay?" he asks, and I laugh shakily.

            "I'm great.  You?"

            He smiles then, and cups the back of my neck with his palm.

            "You have no idea."

            Many hours and many mochas later, Angel walks me toward my home, our hands joined, swinging lightly between us.

            "Did you have fun?" he asks, squeezing my palm.

            I nod.  "Oh, yes.  Thanks to whatever vamp or demon decided that Halloween was too much of a cliché to cause any trauma.  It was great."

            "I'm glad.  You need a night off.  I know you've been stressed lately," he says, and we stop walking at the edge of Sunnydale City Park.  I drop his hand, and head for the swings.

            I sit, fluffing the skirt of my dress around me.  He stands in back of me, his hands on my shoulders, pushing me slightly.  I lean my head back and rest it on his stomach.

            "I'm okay, Angel.  Schools' not that big a deal; thanks to Willow I'm sort of passing almost everything.  And the dreams thing…well, it's been a week, and I haven't had another one.  Have you?"

            I can feel him frown.  "No, I haven't.  Which makes me kind of worried, to be honest."

            "Why?  Maybe it was just a false alarm.  The council will tell us if they think it's anything of great importance," I say, not wanting to break my happy mood.

            "But, Buffy, didn't you say it had the same feel as your dreams about the Master?  I think that's pretty important-"

            I stand abruptly, pulling away from him.  "I don't really want to worry about it right now, Angel.  I don't get many breaks from my night job; I'd like to give it a rest just this once, okay?" I wrap my arms around myself, walking toward the merry go round and away from his worried gaze.

            "Buffy, I know you don't get a break.  But I don't want to be caught unawares, either.  I don't want anything to happen to you, especially something we could have been prepared for," he says, following me.

            "Angel, nothing is gonna happen.  Can we just drop it?" I snap, and sink down onto the merry-go-round, my eyes dropped to the dirt beneath my 'glass' slippers.  They seem kind of silly, now.

            This whole thing is silly.  Who am I kidding?  I'm no princess.  I'm the 'one girl in all the world who has the strength and skill to stand against them.'  And I don't get vacations.

            He kneels in the dirt before me, and puts his fingers under my chin, forcing me to look up.

            "You are important to me.  I want to do everything in my power to protect you.  I'd do anything to make sure you're safe always.  That may mean examining things that are unpleasant, Buffy.  I know how hard the whole thing with the Master was for you," he continues, and an unvoluntary shiver comes over me at the mention of that nasty, juice mouthed creep.  "but if you're having dreams that are even remotely similar, it's worth it to check it out.  It's worth it to me.  I'm not discounting you or your wishes.  Please, do this for me, okay?  Just take it seriously."

            I sigh, and he drops his hand from under my chin, and takes me in his arms, kissing the top of my head gently.

            "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you.  Do you think I could stand that?" he says so softly I don't know if I would have heard him had he not been right next to me.

            I squeeze him tightly, full of feeling and tenderness.  I'm kind of afraid of where this is going.  I've never felt anything remotely like this about any one, ever.  I don't know what to do.

            "Angel," I start, and he looks down at me.

            "Hmmm?" he says, and as I open my mouth, a great clap of thunder breaks the nighttime silence.

            "Whoa.  Didn't think the night was calling for rain," I shout over the noise, and jump to my feet.

            It cracks again, this time followed by the most extreme lightening I've ever seen. 

            "Uh, Angel, I think we better head for cover," I say, and bam, like Murphy's law, the clouds open up and the rain starts to fall.

            He puts his arm around my shoulders, and we run.

            I fling open the door to my house, and we burst in, gasping for breath from our dash to relative safety.  I know he's got to be tired out since he's actually breathing as well.

            "Whew, that wasn't so bad," I say, and look at him.

            My eyes pop. 

            And what scares me is that he's looking at me with the same horrified expression that I'm sure I'm turning on him.

            "Oh, my God, Buffy," he croaks, and reaches a shaking hand to my face. 

            I turn frantically to the mirror in the hall, and gasp aloud.

            Even though he's not in the reflection, I sure am.

            Let's just say that comparing myself to Carrie at her prom is an understatement.

            I whirl to face him.  "Angel- oh my…is this what I think it is?"

            He's thunderstruck, but not enough to not choke out an answer.

            "It's blood."

TBC.