Title: Cauchemar
Author: Angelina
Email: angelina2006@hotmail.com

Buffy sat straight up in bed, panting and sweating and feeling around for the lamp on her bedside table. Instead her hand found something warm and slightly squishy. Buffy shrieked.

“Wha…what is it? I’m up…I’m up mom!”

The warm squishy thing spoke. And sounded suspiciously like Willow. Buffy finally located a light switch and flicked it on. Her surroundings were abruptly illuminated and her bedfellow quickly drove her face into the pillow to escape the unexpected and harsh light. A shock of red-hair confirmed her identity as that of Willow.

“Will?” Buffy asked, tentatively.

“Mmyeah?” came the muffled reply.

Buffy took a minute to glance around and saw that she was lying in bed in Stevenson Hall room 214. She let out a long shuddering sigh of relief and flung herself back onto her pillows, a hand clapped over her racing heart.

Willow peeked out from her hiding place, one eye shut and the other squinting against the still invasive light source.

“Bad dream, baby?” she enquired, trying to stifle a yawn.

Buffy turned onto her side and looked at Willow, just looked at her. Then she reached out and gently cupped her cheek, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. When she pulled away Willow was smiling a sleepy and confused smile.

“What was that for?”

“Just for being you.” Buffy stated, still starting intently into Willow’s slightly more open eyes.

Willow shrugged and crawled closer to Buffy, resting her head on her chest and throwing an arm around her waist. Buffy snaked an arm around Willow’s shoulders, inhaling the just-washed scent of her hair.

“You wanna tell me about it?”

Buffy sighed.

“It was beyond weird Will…and it seemed so real…and it felt like it lasted for a really long time.”

“So tell me, I’m in the mood for storytime.”

“It’s hard to know where to start…I suppose the biggest thing was that we weren’t a couple…”

Willow pushed herself up so she was looking down at Buffy.

“So it was a nightmare then?”

Buffy smiled.

“Completely…and that’s just for starters. You were going out with Tara.”

Willow’s brow scrunched up in confusion.

“Tara? Oh…that girl in my wicca group in freshman year?”

“That’s the one. You and her were this big item…soul-mate type stuff.”

“No way!”

“Believe me Will, I couldn’t make this stuff up.” Buffy frowned, trying to remember the dream which was already fading in her mind. “Anyway…that wasn’t the worst of it though. My mom died and I had this really annoying sister for some reason…who just showed up and whined a lot mostly. There was a guy for a while…can’t remember his name…big blonde guy. Very dull. Oh! And I died!”

“Again?” Willow asked, stifling a yawn.

“Yeah, but this time I was actually dead. Like, dead and buried. I’d jumped off this really tall towery thing…”

“Well, that was just silly.”

“And I went to heaven and you cast a spell to bring me back.”

“Awww, even in your dreams I can’t live without you.”

“Well, I can’t say I was exactly grateful…I moped around for months… ”

Buffy’s eyes went wide as she remembered a particularly disturbing element of her dream. She sat up, bringing Willow with her.

“And I ended up sleeping with Spike.”

“Spike?!?!” Willow squeaked.

Buffy nodded solemnly.

“Ewwwww!!!”

Buffy nodded in wholehearted agreement, not able to find the words to voice her disgust. Willow continued ranting.

“It’s a good thing you staked him last year or I might just have had to go and do it myself for causing me such mental distress…forcing me to picture…that…in my head. And can I just re-iterate: ewwwww!!!”

Buffy suddenly reached out and grabbed Willow’s cheeks, and her attention.

“Will, promise me something?”

“Anthng” said Willow. The word slightly distorted because Buffy was still holding her face rather tightly.

“Promise me you’ll never get addicted to magic and flay people’s skin off and fight me and nearly end the world.”

“I prmse.” Came the still muffled reply.

Buffy leaned in and kissed Willow softly on the lips before releasing her. She flopped back down onto the pillows and let out a long sigh of relief.

“Oh and Will, never dye your hair black, ‘kay?”

“Oooooh, that reminds me of the dream I was having before you woke me!”

“You were dreaming about hair? Was it a scary dream?”

“Kinda. Angel and Darla had a baby together. And Cordelia’s hair was blonde…and shaved up the back.”

“That does sound scary.”

“It was.”

“Night night.”

“Night.”

“Have you noticed…there is never any third act in a nightmare? They bring you to a climax of terror and then leave you there. They are the work of poor dramatists.”
~ Sir Max Beerbohm (1960)