Disclaimer: I am not Joss and I am not Dan Hartman so I guess none of this is mine
Rating: PG – ish! You watch? You can read!
Spoilers: IWRY
Thanx: DB/SMG. Dan Hartman for the title.
Author's Notes: Angel's POVDedication: Everyone who's been helping me through the last 3+ weeks (you know who you are). Thank you so much guys – I couldn't do it without you – let's hope the light at the end of the tunnel isn't an Express train!

Since 'the day that wasn't' I have been finding it harder and harder to make it through the day. The memories, although treasured, are exquisitely painful. Each one laced with bittersweet agony. I told The Oracles that I had the strength to carry this burden. Maybe I was wrong.

That very night you came to me in my dreams. You told me that you understood and that you still loved me, that you would always love me. And then you cradled my face in your hands and drew me in for a gentle kiss. Passion soon consumed us and we fell on the bed, skin against skin, our bodies as one. Fingers and tongues sought out hidden delights and lips caressed sensitive places as united we raced towards our release.

You came to me again the next night, and the next, and every one after that. When sleep claims us you appear. We soar to ecstatic heights and then, when we are spent, we lie safely cocooned in each other's arms. But I always wake to empty arms and an empty bed. The pain hits and our ethereal union becomes nothing more than an agreeable whimsy.

Sleep is all that drives me now. My waking hours are spent waiting for sleep so that we can be together again. Our nightly unions have become my drug and I will do anything, sacrifice anything, for my next fix. The high it brings is as necessary to my existence as the blood I consume.

I don't know if when you wake you recall the time we spend together, somehow I don't think you do. I do know that you are there, that you are not some shallow facsimile created by my overwrought imagination. I feel you. I hear your heart beat, the blood coursing through your veins. Your intoxicating scent of vanilla and summer days invades my senses. Every contour of your body is imprinted on my mind.

Could this be another punishment conjured by the Kalderash? A ploy to drive me insane? Or could it be The Power's That Be's idea of consolation? I don't like to dwell too much on either idea. Whatever is causing this; whatever power is allowing this to happen, I don't want it to end. However painful it is when I awake I am thankful to be able to be with you because then the pain of the memories can't touch me. A touch, a smile and it ceases to be. As long as I can hold you then I can convince myself that maybe I'll make it through

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