Sunnydale; Present time
Her teal eyes opened, and Buffy found herself bolt upright in bed. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, and she was oblivious to the fact that moments before a bone chilling scream had escaped her vocal chords. Heavy, shuddering breaths escaped her, as Buffy began to recall the dream that had just settled in her head. The four bloodthirsty creatures of the night that had been wrecking havoc somewhere in the past, were creatures that the slayer knew all too well. One of them being Angel-or rather Angelus, his evil alter ego-, and her ex-boyfriend. A vampire that had left the small town of Sunnydale a mere three years ago because he’d wanted her to be pleasured with a normal life. A normal life with a normal boyfriend. Not my current vampire bed pal, Spike, Buffy reminded herself. Ew, ew, ew! She hated Spike more than she could stand, and yet, found herself wanting him, needing him in ways that disgusted herself. Speaking of Spike, he’d also made an appearance in her dream, along with his psychopathic ex-girlfriend Drusilla, and the crew’s friend Darla. Now, the question remained... why had she been given that dream?
It wasn’t the first time Buffy had received dreams of past vampire battles, but never before had they been so vivid. It was almost like... almost like Buffy was inside Angelus’s head. Hearing his thoughts and perspectives of the kill. Shuddering, Buffy pulled herself from her blankets and moved in the direction of the bathroom- nothing like a nice, cold shower to erase all badness, she thought to herself casually.
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Willow Rosenberg had been awake from quite sometime, residing in her bed as her emerald eyes surveyed the empty space beside her. Every bone in her body ached for Tara, and yet, the witch knew her lover would not be returning. Startling her, she heard Buffy let out a scream from the room down the hallway, and pulled herself upward in bed. Another night terror? Willow questioned, slipping her blankets off and stepping onto the carpeted floor beneath her. Resisting the urge to go to her friend, Willow started to have an idea what the dream had been about. Spike. After their "relationship" had been brought into the open, and after he'd nearly raped her in the bathroom, Willow had heard Buffy's uneasy dreams, and it knotted her stomach.
Why can't everything just be the way it used to be?! Her and Tara holding hands on their way to the magic box to learn about another big bad yet all the evils in the world wouldn't stand in the way of their love, Spike still defending Buffy against the world; viaing for the slayer's love-- or at the very least, recognition.
A smile crept across Willow's lips as an idea sparked within her. She was a powerful witch. So why couldn't she make things the way that they used to be? Sliding across the room to the chest at the end of her bed, Willow dived inside reaching for some supplies.
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Los Angeles California, Also Present Time
"Damn it," Cordelia Chase uttered as she pryed at the child safety lock on her pain killers. "Child safety. . . pfft, they make it impossible for anyone to get inside these bottles." Her head was pounding, her hands shaking, and all Cordy needed was one of those pills. Her visions were getting worse, and right now Cordelia could barely stand.
There was a faint knock on the bathroom door of the Hyperion Hotel, and Cordelia narrowed her dark eyes at the wooden frame. "I'm fine!" she snapped bitterly.
"Cordelia, I'm not leaving until you open this door."
Angel. Damn it. He knew she wasn't fine. He knew she was far from being fine. Why couldn't Gunn have attempted to talk to her? At the very least, he could atleast open her pills, Cordelia realized on the bright side, reaching for the door knob and twisting it open.
"They're getting worse," Angel noted, concern flooding his face.
"Yeah," Cordelia said glancing down at the bottle in her hands. "Could you just not make a big deal out of it, and just open these damn pills?" She scoffed, handing the bottle to her friend.
"Yeah," Angel murmured quietly, unable to escape the concern that was washing over him. "Cordelia--"
"Angel, really, I'm fine. Just go do your job and save that girl from that. . . that thing I saw," she told him with a nod as she slid the now open pills from his palms to hers. "And thanks, for--" Instead of finishing, she gestured to the bottle and returned to the bathroom, closing the door swiftly behind her. Once inside, she slapped two pills into her mouth and quickly washed the contents down with water from the tap. Then, leaning against the marble counter top, Cordelia slid to the floor, head in her palms. All she wanted was for the pain to stop. Why did she desirve this? Why wouldn't it just . . . stop?
From behind the door, Angel sighed before moving towards his weapons cabinet. Doyle had been given those visions from The Powers That Be because he had been half demon. Maybe they were just too much for a mortal like Cordelia to handle. Either way, he was going to find out.
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