Author's Notes: I have no plans to continue this story as I intended to post only four chapters, but a bit of a warning, there's a tiny twist in the end. This is a psychological/suspenseful story after all, heh. This will also probably going to be my last Buffy story for a while as I'm gonna be focusing on continuing to write Love, Hate, Love, which is a True Blood ficlet(All fans of the show are encouraged and welcome to read it of course) and possibly take a break. Enjoy, and thank you for all the alerts and the story reviews. All feedback is encouraged and welcome, of course. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its' characters are owned by the awesomeness, and cruelness of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox. On to chapter four!

Chapter Four

The moment when I heard the words leaving my Watcher's mouth, it felt like it took almost an eternity to comprehend them. I couldn't breathe; It felt like my lungs were shriveling, almost suffocating me as if I was enduring a rare bout of asthma. A wave of dizziness struck me, but I regained my balance, my right hand clutching the oak chair that I was occupying only mere moments ago.

"Buffy, are you alright?" my Watcher asked in concern, his eyebrows frowning as he hovered over my shoulder. I whirled to face him.

"I don't know. Should I be? I'm not exactly overjoyed at the news, to be honest. But I don't know what to think."

I shuttered, and the urge to heave increased. I could feel the tears threatening to spill. I carried my dead weight towards the entrance of the library, focusing on nothing else but the horrid revelation, my eyes on the floor, closed into slits. Then something stirred beside me, bringing goose bumps to develop on my cold skin, like a gust of cold wind had somehow entered through an invisible window.

And a voice. It was faint, but distinctive. A male voice. One that I was vaguely familiar with. I tried to conjure up the name, but it came up blank and unknown on my lips.

"Buffy."

"Is that you...Angel? Is that your name? I don't remember," I muttered to myself, uncertain, my voice too low for Giles to detect.

"Buffy. Help me," I heard the man called Angel plead in earnest, his voice on the edge of desperation and fear. The tingling sensation in my stomach increased tenfold, and I felt a pain now weighing heavily against my chest.

I fell to my knees. Something was happening to him, and it wasn't of the good sort. "Buffy!" Giles cried, and I heard his steps rapidly approaching from behind, his hand tugging at my elbow, cautiously pulling me to my feet.

"Giles, did you hear him? Did you hear his voice?"

"Who?"

"That man, Angel. He was here. He was asking for my help," I countered. "Angel? Are you certain he was there, in corporeal form?" Giles questioned, puzzled.

"Positively certain. Giles, what the hell is going on? Does he exist, or not?" I demanded. It didn't take long for him to answer.

"Quite frankly, I think you're the one who's gone completely mad," Giles answered casually, arms folded across his chest as if he didn't express a single care or worry in the world.

"What?" I was bewildered, my mouth agape. "Giles, have you been eating that candy again? I thought we dealt with that already," I scolded.

"Poor little Slayer, aren't you? Thinking as if the universe had gone topsy turvy. It is all in your insignificant mind. The universe is not against you and Angel. I've created that for my personal amusement, of sorts." I noticed distinctively that Giles now held one hand behind his back, as if he were attempting to hide something from view.

Before the last confusing minute could further process in my mind, I felt the hard end of a black oak fighting stick connecting against my head.

I fell into unconsciousness, the image of Giles hovering above me as his smile burned into my mind. It was the last thing I saw.

I suddenly woke up with a gasp, sweat protruding down my face. I felt my hair matted with sweat, and I tossed my covers aside, my eyes peering to a form sleeping next to me. "Buffy, what's wrong?" Angel asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. He stood to his back, placing a kiss on my shoulder.

"Just had a nightmare. Totally gave me the wiggins. Nothing out of the usual."

"What were you dreaming about?"

"That you never existed, and that I never remembered anything about you. These monsters took all my memories away of us, and Giles was telling me how the universe was dead set to keep us apart, and he attacked me with a fighting stick, of all things," I smiled grimly, but I could feel my eyes beginning to moist. And the pain in my chest was coming to the surface at the surrealism of the dream.

I felt Angel taking me into his cold arms, comforting me, soothing the nightmare and fears away. "It's okay, Buffy. It was just a dream. I'm here," Angel soothed against my hair. I inched away and glanced at him, pulling his lips towards mine. I felt relief spread all over.

But a part of me was also reveling in fear. The curse of the Slayer was that one never knew exactly what was a dream, and what was prophetic.

If this nightmare was of the latter, it would only be a matter of time before it became a harsh reality.

Fin.