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Part 4
It seemed like he'd been wandering through the fluctuating degrees of mist for *hours* when he finally heard his shoes ringing against stone. He looked down, surprised and pleased to see gray slate beneath his feet, and when he looked back up, the mist was gone. It took him barely a moment to recognize the living room of the mansion he'd once inhabited in Sunnydale, and his heart sank as he realized he'd been right. She *was* having nightmares, and it was all his fault.
His feet seemed to move on their own, and seconds later, he found himself outside the door to the bedroom he'd once occupied. His eyes closed as he recognized the sounds coming from the other side of the door, and as much as he wanted to just... turn away, he had to know. He had to know just how much he'd have to make up for later. His eyes closed for a moment as he reached out and turned to knob, pushing the door open a few inches, and opened again when he peered around the edge. His breath caught in his throat at what he saw, and he shook his head quickly, trying to understand.
"Willow," he heard, in his own voice-- and it *was* his voice, carrying none of the wicked edge of his soul-less counterpart's tone-- "Please..." He could see his own hands clutching her smooth, white hips; see his bare legs stretched out on the dark sheets as the smallish redhead raised and lowered herself slowly upon him. Her head was thrown back, small breathy moans flying from her throat as she gyrated so slowly it must have been torture for the dream-him. He could see small tremors passing up his legs; hear the strained groans slipping from his lips, and he shuddered as the sight alone enticed him to hardness. *This* was why Tara had looked at him with such loathing, he suddenly understood. Not because of what his demon was doing to her girlfriend, but because... Willow *wanted* him!
His eyes remained locked on the redhead's slender, toned back, even as he crept fully into the room and slunk towards his favourite chair. He'd thought Willow was gay, but obviously, he'd been wrong. He'd *also* been wrong about her being the same shy, quiet girl he remembered. But even so, he knew she couldn't possibly want him in real life. He'd been down that road before, with Buffy, and even if he'd been interested in having another relationship-- especially so soon after his sweet Slayer's death-- it wouldn't be with another human girl who couldn't accept him for what he was. A *vampire*. And okay, a vampire with a *soul*, but a demon none the less.
He continued around the edge of the room, still in stealth mode, until he got to his chair and sat, his eyes drawn once again to the writhing two-some on the bed. Willow was leaning down, apparently kissing the dream-him behind the curtain of her almost shoulder-length red hair, as she continued to ride him slowly and simply. His eyes were drawn to that spot between her legs, and he watched his erect cock disappearing deep into her center. He grinned slightly then. Obviously the girl had never seen him naked, and had imagined that part of him by comparison to someone *much* less endowed than he actually was. He wondered for a moment what she'd say when she saw... and shook off the thought. Even if she *was* interested, she could never accept him. Not fully.
"Oh, Gods!" he heard her cry, "Angel!" His eyes traveled slowly up their joined forms until he gasped, seeing her sit up on his dream-shape again. He stifled a groan when her movement revealed his face... unashamedly ridged, golden-eyed, and sharply fanged. Shit! She was dreaming him the way she'd seen him many times... in full 'game face'! He barely held in his next groan as he watched her pull on her imaginary Angel's arm until he sat up beneath her, and he stared intently when they were wrapped tightly in each others' arms. He saw his head rear back for the strike, and almost cried out a warning, but her softly hissed "Yesss..." froze the words in his throat. She *wanted* it, he realized... Wanted his bite; wanted to be his! And she was moving faster on him now; his hands were roaming swiftly up and down her back, and he could see himself pulling her hard into his upward thrusts. He could hear his own growls against her skin; *see* her muscles tightening as she continued to move on his dream-self's hard cock, and when she whimpered softly, then screamed out his name in ecstasy, her imagined lover wasn't the only one who came.
He leaned back in his chair, breathing hard unnecessary breaths. He'd had no idea that the girl could affect him so much, but obviously she could. He almost wondered why he'd never seen her before, but he knew the answer to that question. Buffy. But Buffy was dead, and she hadn't really been his for the last couple years... she had 'moved on', in point of fact. And she'd never truly accepted him, or not *all* of him. Still, he wasn't quite comfortable with the idea of 'moving on' himself, and to her best friend, no less. Especially with as torn up as he was inside over the fact that she *was* dead. It was a problem, he knew, but... The most important thing, he reminded himself, was to bring Willow back; to draw her from this world where she might *think* she was happy. After all, if he left her there, she'd die.
He sighed silently, waiting for his chance, and when she eventually got up, saying something about a snack, he let her leave the room, and watched as the dream-him dissolved into mist. "Well, *that* makes things easier," he said out loud, even as he stripped the clothes from his aching flesh and slid between the outrageously soft navy blue silk sheets. He let his human face drop over his true features and waited silently for the redhead to return.
It wasn't until he saw the mist coalescing beside him that he realized what was happening, and this wouldn't work if she was suddenly confronted with *two* of him, so... "Willow..." he called out, hoping to forestall the creation of the dream-him, "What's taking so long...?" He sighed in relief when the indistinct form faded away, and he glanced towards the door, smiling when she walked through it. "Feeling better?" he almost purred, one hand extended to her.
He smiled more broadly when her fingers tangled with his, and pulled her down onto the bed. "I missed you," he told her, hoping her dream-Angel would have said something to that effect, and he kissed her when she would have replied. A strong bolt of what felt like fire flowed through him, and when her lips opened, he dove between them with his tongue. His eyes slammed shut, and he moaned at the way she was kissing him back, his hands suddenly roving her flesh just as the other-him's had.
He groaned deeply when she pulled her mouth from his, and moaned even *more* deeply when her sweet, hot lips began to trail down his hard, cool form. His fingers tangled in her hair when she paused at his nipples, and stayed there while she slipped even farther south. "Gods..." he groaned, eyes opening wide when her wet little tongue plunged into his navel.
He wanted her, he knew... wanted her so much it was like a physical pain. And it was only a dream, he told himself... He could be forgiven if he took in a dream what he'd *never* have in real life. But still... he pulled her protesting form up his body just before she could wrap her lips around his straining cock, and rolled them, staring down into her wide green eyes. "Let me," he murmured, smiling wickedly when she breathlessly agreed.
There wasn't any possible way that her skin tasted this good outside the dream, he told himself, even as he took one tightly budded nipple between his lips. And as he moved swiftly to her other breast, he knew that her fingers couldn't possibly feel so right in his hair. Her sweet little navel couldn't really be so perfect, and there was just no *way* that she could ever be as tight and hot as she was around his fingers when he slowly pressed two of them deep within her tempting core. Nothing could ever taste as ambrosial as the slick fluids leaking from her... and when she came in the real world, he just knew that it couldn't be with that whimpering hitch in the back of her throat. But he didn't care at the moment, because... dream or not, right then...? She was *perfect*! He slowly moved back up her body, reveling in the tremors still shaking her flesh, and he stared down into her hot, hungry eyes as he slid quickly and fully into her tempting heat. No... she couldn't *possibly* be this tight and wet.
His eyes rolled back, and he began to move, despite his desire to hold still and just... enjoy the sensation of being surrounded by her warmth. He could feel her short, rounded nails digging into his back; feel her long, slender legs wrapping tightly around his waist, and the small, delighted sounds she was making were driving him on... harder... faster... *deeper*. Her legs shifted against his back, rising higher, and Gods!, he was deeper inside her than he'd ever been in anyone, and... He forced his eyes open, staring again into hers. "Angel," he heard her say, "*All* of you..." and he knew, in that moment... she loved him. Not just Angel the man, but Angelus the demon, and every aspect they shared, too. He could feel his true face coming out, even though he hadn't willed it, and he let it stay when her expression revealed her delight. He growled, soft and low, deep in his chest, and thrust into her more forcefully.
She was arching hard against him, keeping time with his motions; he could feel the tremors starting in her so-tight walls... he could feel his balls drawing up tight against his body, even as she clenched harder around him, and when she begged him with her eyes, he could refuse her nothing. His lips drew back from his jagged teeth, and he sheathed his fangs fully... deeply... in her sweet, soft skin, shouting out his own orgasm as she did hers. "Mine," he murmured, licking tenderly at the seeping wound he'd given her, even as his cock throbbed deep within her tight heat, "Always mine..." and he sighed softly as the last bits of his cool, dead seed filled her almost to overflowing. "Willow," he moaned, still not quite recovered, "It's time to wake up."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She was still dreaming, she knew. That was the only way she'd be feeling the big, cool body on top of her, and the long, thick hardness deep inside her. Her fingers trailed slowly up and down the soft skin covering his spine, and she moaned softly when he began to move within her again. She *knew* she was dreaming, but it felt so *real*! His lips were on her skin, nuzzling lightly at the wound she remembered him giving her, and she made herself stop thinking, wanting only to revel in the sensation of cool, hard flesh pressing her deep into the mattress... sharp, jagged teeth scraping lightly at her flesh... wonderfully hard cock moving deep and slow within her... It was the best dream she'd ever had, and that was saying a *lot*.
He was still caught in the dream. He had to be, because... he was deep inside her, and she was even tighter than he remembered. Her skin was too soft to be real, and... Gods, the way she responded to him was just... impossible. Still, he wasn't going to argue; not at the moment, anyway. His tongue swept slowly over the mark he'd made on her neck, and he purred slightly when her sweet, rich blood began trickling again. "Mine," he reminded himself softly, acknowledging that as far as the dream went, she *was*. He thrust himself a bit harder and faster into her welcoming heat, a slight growl emerging against her skin when she responded in kind, her nails digging hard into his spine. He listened to her heart beating faster and faster, eyes closed, as he gently slipped his fangs into the now-open wound. His hips moved a bit more harshly, and he grunted softly as he buried himself repeatedly in her wet perfection, and when he felt her tightening almost unbearably around him, he pulled his mouth from her skin, roaring his release into the still air of... his room?! His eyes flew wide as he recognized the feel of the place, and he froze in stunned disbelief. How...? When...? Oh, Gods... A strong wave of self-loathing raced through his body, and he stared down at the face of the redhead he'd just... raped, basically. Oh, Gods...
She'd felt him cum with her... *heard* him, too, and it had been *incredible*! But then she felt him look at her, and she felt his entire body *tense*, and... That wasn't usually a part of this dream. She slowly opened her eyes, meeting his shattered gaze, but it wasn't until she noticed where they were that she began to understand. "This... this was *real*... Wasn't it..." she demanded in a very small voice, shame flowing swiftly through her. The look on his face was answer enough, and she pushed him from her with all the strength she possessed. Her hands swiftly pulled the edges of the open robe she was somehow wearing closed, one clutching the fabric tightly at the base of her neck, and she stared at the vampire before her, horrified by how she'd taken advantage of him. And she *had* taken advantage; she was *sure* of it. How else could it have happened? It wasn't as if he would have *wanted* her.
They sat there on the bed, Willow clad in just a robe, and Angel in
nothing at all, trading horrified glances at what they'd each forced the
other to do. And that was how Cordelia found them, almost ten minutes later,
when she arrived for work and went to check on the redhead.