Rupert Giles removed his glasses, laying them next to the open book situated on the table before him. He waited patiently as Willow gathered the words necessary to convey her concerns to him. The Watcher had no doubt that whatever Willow was struggling with was a problem -- the girl's mouth was pinched with worry, and her eyes -- usually vibrant -- had been claimed by an uncertain, haunted look. 

She swallowed, tucking a strand of hair behind one delicate ear. "Giles... is it possible for someone to get into someone else's dreams?" Her voice was tiny and worried despite her attempts to sound casual. Pale hands twisted against the back of the chair she clutched at. 

Giles leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him as he considered her question. He quickly scanned his vast mental inventory of all things supernatural and nodded. "I do believe so, yes," Giles confirmed. "It has been a while since I had occasion to study the phenomena, but I recall several instances of such an occurrence. There are spells which enable one dreamer to enter the mind of another; and there have been cases reported of powerful psychics capable of forging a temporary connection between two individuals--" 

Willow appeared to have wilted beneath Giles' words. "Oh," she responded softly, her eyes fixed on the table. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. 

The Watcher straightened, the misery in Willow's voice catching his attention. "Why are you inquiring, Willow?" Giles questioned, silently cursing himself for not having requested an answer before responding. He trusted Willow, but sometimes the young woman found herself in the most dire of straights because of her good intentions. 

She offered him a sickly smile. "No reason, Giles... just curious, is all." 

Giles slid his glasses back into place. He shot an incredulous glance in Willow's direction. "It has been my experience that none of you ask questions of me regarding the supernatural for no reason," he told her. His eyes sharpened, "you aren't planning on using dream walking? Or perhaps you have been on the receiving end--" 

"No!" Willow yelped. She jumped, flushing. Another deep gasp of air followed as Willow stepped away from the table, moving away from Giles. "Look, there really isn't anything going on. I was just wondering... I saw something about it in a... mythology book I read a while ago. It caught my attention and -- I was only curious. You know, fount of useless knowledge, and all." She bit off her words before she could continue babbling. 

Giles studied the girl critically. Willow was truly an awful liar. "This isn't something to be taken lightly, Willow. If there is anything going on, I beg you to speak to me. Dream walking could prove to be dangerous for you, for _all_ of us." 

Her eyes darted away. "Stop pushing me, Giles!" there was a definite growl in the girl's voice when she replied. "Nothing is going on! Just tru-- let it drop, okay? I'm sorry I asked!" She swirled on her heel and stalked towards the door stiffly. They fell shut behind her, and the library was silent once more. 

Giles stayed in place for a long moment, his eyes distant as he watched the door through which Willow had escaped. 

Willow braced her palms against the sink, leaning forward until her face's reflection dominated her vision. She studied the familiar contours of her face critically, searching for some outwards manifestation of the changes she felt within her. She was Willow Rosenberg, and suddenly, she no longer knew what that meant. She was a good girl. She was a good friend. 'Shy, sweet, loyal, honest,' Willow threw the words at her reflection, uncertain as to whether they formed a prayer of a curse. 

"Fine, getting into other people's dreams _is_ possible. That doesn't mean that Angelus is making a nightly sojourn into _mine_." 

The wide green eyes staring back at her from the bathroom mirror declared her a liar. 

Willow's fingers tightened around the sink, her knuckles going white with tension. "It isn't hurting anyone, even if he is." Her reflection screamed it's disgust at her, and Willow briefly clenched her eyes against the vision of a broken man left in an alley for Buffy to discover. "_Once_. Only once," Willow pleaded to herself. "And who says that it was _me_ who told Angelus -- there's a hundred different ways he could have found out about Buffy's new friend." 

"So maybe it is Angelus. What of it? They're _my_ dreams. I'm in control, right? He can't hurt me in my own head. And I just have to keep my mouth shut." She sounded desperate to her own ears. She _was_ desperate, Willow realized with a choked cry. She was trying to convince herself that allowing a monster into her mind wouldn't hurt anyone. 

She hadn't _needed_ Giles to tell her that dream walking was possible. She had suspected all ready, had _known_ that she was meeting a killer in her dreams. The details may not have been clear, but the familiar slickness between her legs which greeted her when she had awakened informed her that she had not attempted him to banish him from her mind. "You sick, twisted... _whore_!" Willow spat. She pushed herself away from the sink, turning her back to the mirror. 

She was harbouring a monster in her dreams, unwilling to let him go because he was a good fuck and offered her a relationship devoid of all the work one with a real person would take. She didn't have to change for dream-Angel, she didn't have to listen to his problems, or soothe his hurts. She didn't have to try and understand him, or to work through the myriad of small and not so small snags that every relationship hit. He was perfect. The only problem was that the man of her dreams was just that -- a dream. The reality was a nightmare. 

Willow forced aside her sense of loss, carefully cultivating the tiny spark of humiliation and rage that had been simmering deep within her as she contemplated what Angelus had done to her. 'What I _allowed_ him to do to me,' her mind admitted, quickly drown out beneath a wave of denial. 'It _wasn't_ my fault. I didn't know what he was doing. Angelus _manipulated_ me.' 

Her cheeks were flushed a dull, angry red when Willow swiveled to face herself in the bathroom mirror once again. "That... that... _bastard_ thinks he can use me like that, does he? Thinks that I'm not smart enough to figure out what he's up to, or not strong enough to stop him?" She snorted. "You're in for a surprise, Angelus," she hissed before stalking towards the door. 

~end~ 

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