Title: Only When You Dream
Author: Xanderschick AKA Sarah
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns the park; I'm just playing in the sandpit til my hands get dirty.
Rating: M rated action. Children avert your eyes!
Spoilers: BtVS seasons 1-3
Distribution: Take it; just make sure you let me know when you review (hint, hint!).
Plot: After Graduation Angel didn't leave. He's been visiting Buffy every night since then, because he can't bear to be away from her. But now she's moved to college and his nightly visits aren't an option anymore. Oh, what to do…
A/N: Had some probs with Chappie 1 but that's back up properly now. Bring on the reviews (please)! And yes, I got the whole dream walking idea from AtS S2 but I thought to myself, "Self, wouldn't this be much more fun if it was Buffy instead of the ex-vamp ho?" Answer: "Yup!"
A/N 2: This chapter is mostly Angels POV. I know I said in Chappie 1 that this was gonna be an Angel POV story it's gonna be a Buffy POV story too. Look out for Buff stuff in Chappie 4
A/N 3: This story is 100 Blondie Bear free so don't even ask. Ever. I mean it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Two - Another WayThe old man looks at me and I see a faint smile play across his lips. "You want to know how to get into another's dreams. Control them." By now I'm getting impatient. The sun had set only an hour ago but I want to be prepared for tonight. "Yes" I answer back without flinching.
"It wasn't a question" he replied quietly
It's been five nights since my girl had moved into the UC Sunnydale campus an already I'm cracking up. I haven't been able to sleep without her by my side. After talking to (or beating up) every reliable demon source I could get my hands on, a Berallack demon I found in Willies pointed me in the direction of this guy. Doc. An old male of human appearance and an unrecognisable demonic smell. I don't trust him.
He spoke slowly while rummaging around in an untidy mountain of books sprawled across an old oak desk. "What you want is a Kelara. It's a derivative of a Native American meditation spell used by tribal wise men to enter the dreams of their warriors and…encourage them, so to speak. Mentally prepare them for battle with the enemy tribes by manipulating the dreams into visions of them winning in combat. Most of the strongest Native fighters volunteered to be placed under this…hypnotism. Very effective. Nowadays though it's mostly used by divorce lawyers to encourage infidelity. More business for them, you know." The last sentence was meant as a gesture of humour but I wasn't buying. My icy disposition hasn't put him off though. "Get a lot of lovesick teenagers looking for prom dates too. You a lawyer?" I stare at him blankly. "No? You don't look like a schoolboy. Who are you using this on then?"
I don't answer. He makes his smile obvious this time.
"How does it work?"
"Have you had any physical contact with her before" He stops looking through the books and picks up one. An ancient looking leather-bound journal. "Who said that it's a her" I respond calmly, not wanting to give up my unhonourable intentions. He looks to me, making eye contact. A sympathetic look comes across his face. "It's always a her." He begins to shuffle towards me, his slippers dragging on the worn carpet. "Besides, everyone knows about you and the slayer" he states casually.
"You'll need some of her blood. This won't be a problem for you though because I know you drank from her." Even though I have no body heat I feel my face flush with embarrassment and my hands somehow find their way into the pockets of my black duster.
"There were…circumstances. I wasn't myself. I would never have…" Doc interrupts with a wave of his pale hand. "I'm not here to judge," he tells me, handing me the book. "Last time I checked, vampires don't digest quickly. And slayers blood? That's strong. Probably be in your system for years." The old demon stares at me intently for a few moments, as if in a trance. I blink and he jumps, shaking his head slightly as he looks down at the book. "The spell's in there. Page two-thirty. After pet resurrection." I give him a questioning look. "Native American tribes sometimes ran short of horses after battles. I don't think I need to explain what they used that spell for" He turns from me and moves towards the door. "You'll need a picture of her. Set it in a clay bowl and pour some of your own blood over it. Burn some form of lavender; I'd suggest candles – magical sleeping properties, you know. Isn't just an old wives tale. Recite the incantation and go straight to sleep." He opens the door and gestures for me to leave. I walk slowly towards him. "That's it?" I ask. "That's it." He answers.
I walk out the door and back into the damp, barely lit street. Even though I move away quickly, I can't help but stop when he makes that ever-familiar statement: "Remember, all magics have repercussions." I shake it off and head towards the magic shop without looking back.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The old demon closes the door and heads over to another identical door on the far side of his small crowded apartment. He opens it and cautiously walks out into an alley. The red brick walls are illuminated by a single streetlight and the only object visible is a dumpster. A badly dressed man sits on it, his legs hanging over the edge and his head bent down as he fiddles with something in his hands. He looks up enquiringly as the old demon approaches him.
"I gave him the spell" doc tells him, trying not to get too close to the man who had threatened him not even an hour ago.
"Good. Now I won't have to kill you" the man slurs back cheerily, his obvious Irish accent echoes through the alley. He tosses the object he's holding to the terrified demon and hops off the dumpster. Doc looks down at the talisman in his hand and watches as his aggressor begins to stagger slowly towards the main street. He doesn't get far before he falls against the wall and slumps to the ground, lost in his drunken sleep.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As I stare at the photograph I'm holding I can't help but smile warmly. She stares back at me, her eyes glowing, her smile shy yet playful. I remember the day I took these. Nine days before we made love. During one of our (very rare) senseless conversations I had told her that I had never used a camera before. She had asked why and I told her that I'd never had anything to take pictures of. I thought they were pointless.
She bounced into my apartment the next day holding a small silver contraption and a handful of rolls of film. She snapped it in my face, almost blinding me with the flash. I told her that there was no point in taking pictures of me, as vampires have no image, no mirror reflection. Disappointment was evident in her eyes, but she stood up straight, smiled and declared "I'm gonna catch some Kodak moments anyway!" We spent hours messing about in my apartment, taking photos of each other, kissing and talking about the "meaningful stuff" as she calls it.
A few days later I had just woken up for the night when I saw a parcel sitting in the chair near my apartment door. In it I found a smooth red hardback folder. As I opened it I realised it was a photo album. The images of that day lay before me; imprinted on paper, mine to keep for all eternity. She was in every photo - laughing, smiling, looking at me in that way she does. I took my time looking through it, memorising every millimetre of every picture. This was the best gift I'd ever had. As I reached the final page my breathless body couldn't help but gasp in surprise – there, sitting on my bed, wearing my clothes, sat a man I didn't recognise. He smiled at the camera, a little embarrassed.
Underneath the photo there was a small paragraph written in Buffy's handwriting:
Angel.
No image? I think you have a beautiful image. Who needs a moment in a mirror? These pictures can last forever. I'll treasure that day. I hope you will too. It's never pointless.
Love Buffy XXXGod, I miss her.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I place the photo I'm holding into the clay bowl in front of me. The woman at the magic shop told me it was 17th century Spanish. Does it matter?
The smell of lavender takes over the room as the candles slowly start to burn. I sit on my bed and hold the small penknife in my right hand dragging the sharp edge of the blade along my left palm. Pain stings through my hand momentarily but passes as I begin to squeeze it. The blood drips from my fingers onto the picture of my love. The thick, deep-red liquid runs across the photo and into the bowl, sinking into the decorated tan clay. I pick the bowl up and settle it on my bedside table, the open spell journal replacing it on the bed. I read over the chant once as I wrap my bloody hand with a bandage. I close the book and throw it to the floor, laying back and making myself comfortable. Then it hits me. What am I doing? I can't just invade her dreams. It was morally wrong and, as Buffy herself would put it, 'icky'. Was she becoming an obsession? I remember Drusilla, the things I did to her and I feel my body shaking. I can't hurt Buffy like that again. Angelus almost ruined her. Would my selfish actions, my need to be with her, harm her?
No. No. Never. She didn't want me too leave her. She still cries every night. She can't sleep without me. She can't live without me. I can't live without her.
I can feel myself falling. The room has become a blur and the scent of her is overpowering. As I begin to drift off I quietly whisper words to myself. Words of an ancient unknown language, their meaning unclear, their purpose unjustifiable:
Into the visions, I shall be your guide
As the world falls away, you lay with me
Heed my calls, my words are countlessMy every movement you soul shall follow
Body to body mind to mind heart to heart soul to soul
Body to body mind to mind heart to heart soul to soul
Body to body mind to mind heart to heart soul to soul
Body to body mind to mind heart to heart…
"Buffy…?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ooooohhhh! Did it work? Review if you wanna find out! Update may take a couple of days though. Lets pretend, hypothetically of course, that it did work. What would you reviewers like to see in a Buffy/Angel dream sequence? Remember that our man has full control over it! Any ideas for the fic are greatly appreciated. Write what the readers wanna read! BUT NO SPIKE! Wish I could dream walk…oh, the potential! Thanks for reading!