Willow was doing her damndest to look like she was reading.

It wasn't working.

Angel watched her with a smirk of amusement. As usual, everyone else was
completely oblivious to what was going on with her. Buffy and Giles were
training in the corner of the library. Xander was reading one of his comic
books behind the cover of his Algebra textbook.

Willow was reading Thronton's Demonologie....upside down. He grinned,
watching as the redhead chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. He wondered what
his little friend was thinking of. Xander? Giles?

Willow turned the page to the book she wasn't reading. She stole a glance at
Angel. Her dream had been running through her head all day. The feeling of
silk against her skin. The smell of almond oil being rubbed into soft,
feminine skin. The way Angel's spiced chocolate eyes bored into her. She
shook her head and took a deep breath. She snapped the book shut.

"I'm heading home," she announced.

"Want me to walk you?" Xander asked.

"That's okay," she shook her head. "I'll be fine."

"Goodnight, Buff," she called. "Giles."

"Goodnight, Willow," Giles turned his head just long enough to look at
Willow leaving and got a sound left hook for it. "Buffy!"

"You weren't looking," the Slayer shrugged. "Goodnight, Will."

Angel's brow creased, still wondering what could be bothering her. Guess he
would just have to ask her during one of their five-second Bronze chats. The
ones were she blushed and stammered and finally managed to say something
really charming before Buffy and Xander came over to interrupt.

Angel sighed. Things hadn't quite been the same for him and Buffy lately. He
had forgotten exactly how shallow some fifteen-year-old girls could be.

"I'm heading home, too," Angel said. "Enjoy your sparring, Buffy."

"'Night," she said, whacking poor Giles in the head again.

He rolled his eyes and walked out of the library.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel opened his eyes to see a long deep sunken tub nearly swallowing him
whole. He caught himself before he slid into the water. Exotic scents
eveloped him as he peered around the room.

What a weird dream. It definitely wasn't from his lifetime. Even he hadn't
lived in a civilization this ancient. Syrian? Libyian, maybe?

He shook his head, might as well enjoy it. He sank back against the tub's
stone walls. He moaned, he hadn't been so warm in years. In fact, his hands
slid over the skin of his wrist. He had a normal body temperature. And a
pulse.

He gasped, looking around the bathing chamber for a hand mirror. He grabbed
at it. He had a reflection. For the first time in centuries he could
actually see his face. Only it wasn't his face. He had long hair and... a
tan.

He stuck out his tongue, the image responded in kind. He laughed heartily.
He took a deep breath and held it, thrilled by the fact that moments later
he needed to take another.

He grinned.

"Is his majesty feeling all right?" a young dark-haired beauty asked him
from the corner. Why hadn't he seen her before? And why was she calling him
"his majesty?"  What did Freud say about shortcomings and people who dream
of being higher status than they actually were? He grinned.

"I'm fine, really," he said, standing. "I'd like to dress now."

"Of course," she said, bowing. She stepped forward, wrapping a long
sarong-like skirt around his waist. He stilled for a moment, waiting for the
familiar feeling of his soul battling his demon's urge to tear her throat
out, letting her hot, sweet blood course over his lips. He waited. Nothing.
He didn't even wanted to nibble on her jugular. He did want to nibble on
some of her other parts....

"Your majesty," a young eunich whispered from behind him. "Serena is ready
to see you now."

He couldn't wait to see who Serena was.

"Send her in," Angel nodded, stepping out of the tub.

"Your majesty," a soft feminine voice sounded from the doorway to his
chamber. He gasped as a slim, green-sheathed form made its way towards him.

Willow.

The gauzy wrap-skirt she wore offered a tantalizing glimpse of her  shapely
legs. The intricate patterns of silver thread and beads on her clothes
glittered as she moved. Her pale flat stomach was barely touched by the
material of her top. Her creamy skin shone in the soft lamplight. He had
never wanted to touch someone so much in his long life.

"Serena?" he grinned.

"You called for me, sire," she said. "You asked me to foretell your reign."

"Of course," he grinned, stretching out on a divan. "Sit."

She knelt before him. Part of him wanted to throw her back on the deep pile
of satin cushions and sink deep into her, to make her whimper his name and
make animal sounds deep in her throat as he brought to climax again and
again. It was only a dream right? In real life, Willow was his friend. A
good friend who cared for him deeply, but wouldn't exactly be open to the
idea of an illicit affair with a vampire.

"As you shuffle the cards, ask your question in your heart," she said,
ignoring the way her fingers brushed against his as she handed him the deck.

He shuffled the deck. Will Willow be mine one day?

Other parts of Angel wanted desperately to see Willow interact with him
without the shyness, the boundaries. This Willow seemed confident and
unafraid.

She spread the cards before him in a cross shape, which made him more than a
little nervous.

"The first card is the influence of your past on your question," she said.
"The five of wands. A card of struggle. You've faced much inner turmoil,
doubting every decision you've made after the fact. You regret much of your
life. But wish to change it."

He nodded. If only she knew.

"The second card reflects obstacles in your path," she turned the card over.
"The reversed Queen of Cups, a fair but vain woman needing constant
attention. Perhaps a former or current lover?"

He snorted. Wonder who that could be?

Her brow creased in confusion.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"What would a lover have to do with your reign as king?" she asked.

"Perhaps that's not the question I asked," he said.

"Oh," she said simply. He watched the way the soft light reflected her
emerald eyes.

"What does the next card mean?" he asked.

"An influence working in your favor," she said, turning the card. "The High
Priestess. It could mean a very important woman who is about to come into
your life or a great secret about to be discovered."

"I wonder who that could be?" he asked, smirking. His thumbs ran over the
beaded hem of her skirt.  Her stroked the curves of her bared ankle. He
could hear her breathing alter. He grinned, tracing a little pattern over
her silky skin.

"The next card is the near future," she said. He looked down and chuckled.

"The Lovers," he said. "What other hints do we need?"

He leaned close, flicking his tongue over her lips. He kissed her deeply,
licking and caressing the cavern of her mouth with his tongue. She tasted of
pomegranates.

"Shall I undress now, sire?" she asked. Her flat, lifeless tone struck him
stone cold. This wasn't the way he wanted it, even if it was just a dream.
He wanted her participation. Her response. He wanted her to want him.

"I don't command anyone's affections," he said, coldly, rising. He pulled
her to her feet. "When you are in my bed, it will be because you asked to be
there."

Her green eyes flashed with defiance.

"Tonight, I sleep alone," he spat.

"Very well, sire," she curtsied and promptly turn to leave. The outline of
her back was the last thing he remembered seeing before he woke.

Angel sat up in his bed, pushing his maroon sheets from his sweat-slicked
body.

"What a fucked up dream."
 

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