As the queen of "yank as much from canon as you can get away with while still making sense", if the dialogue fits, use it.

I adored the part with the consecrated ground.

---

Hi all. I haven't been on the board much and I blame all the wonderful Buffista writers for enticing me to attempt this with their fun and intelligent creations. I had no idea it would turn into this kind of an obsession.

Following is a primarily unbeta'd and unfinished story I've been working on. I'm re-posting the beginning since a few changes were made and also so that everything ties together.

Dream A Little Dream

Part One

It didn't feel like a dream - it felt real. The tension, the excitement, the surprise. Dream or not, Buffy was convinced that this had something to do with magic. Living in Sunnydale will do that to you.

Buffy's first instinct was to ask Willow about any recent spells she had performed. Not that she suspected Willow. Well, not after accusing her the night before last. Either way, Willow had promised Buffy that she had been extremely careful lately with her spells. Spell actually. Willow confessed to using a locator spell to find a rare book the previous week. Nothing more.

Which failed to help Buffy figure out exactly what was happening.

It was three o'clock in the morning and she'd just woken, drenched in perspiration, from a vivid dream that had started quite innocently. The same dream that she'd experienced every night this week.

In the dream, Buffy and Faith entered an older crypt that was vaguely recognizable as the Hanover crypt, inhabited by a gang of vampires last year, although she couldn't be positive.
After a complete inspection of the small room, Buffy said to Faith, "All clear. Looks like nothing has been disturbed in here for awhile."

"Especially the dust, B. Damn."

"The Hanovers have been dead for about a millennium. You expect the cleaning lady to still be on retainer?"

Faith walked over to Buffy and mock punched her in the arm with a coy smile. "I'm just saying, it's not like The Watcher's Council is gonna kick in a couple measly bucks to help their two star slayers out with medical bills if we start wheezing when our lungs are filled with crap due to our chosen profession."

"Uh-huh."

"What's up with you? No remark about inhaling? Sucking in the dead?" Faith asked as she stepped closer to Buffy and placed her right palm on Buffy's forehead. "You don't feel feverish."

With the touch of Faith's hand, Buffy felt a flash of electricity vibrate through her body and she backed up a step away from Faith towards the rear wall of the crypt. "I'm...fine, Faith."

Faith's brow was furrowed; she was obviously offended."Fine, huh? Good to know," she said as she turned away from Buffy and started toward the entrance of the crypt.

Instinctively, Buffy reached out and caught Faith's hand, turning her back around so that they were once again face to face. Averting her eyes, Buffy told her, "I'm sorry. I'm a little... wigged tonight."

When Faith didn't respond, Buffy slowly raised her eyes and met Faith's stare, realizing just how close they were standing to each other. She could feel Faith's breath on her face. Warm with a hint of mint. Apparently, when she pulled Faith back to her, she had used more force than she thought.

A feeling of unease and excitement filled Buffy as her breath caught in her throat from the realization that she was still holding Faith's hand in her own.

She also realized that she didn't want to let go.

Faith leaned closer to Buffy, backing her against the wall, and whispered into Buffy's ear, "I might have expected this from Willow. You know? She gives off a vibe."

Buffy didn't move away.

Faith paused a moment, without moving either, and continued. "Thought about it once or twice even...but you?"

Buffy felt her breathing become more rapid. Shallow and quick. The thought of Faith's lips so close to her ear and the feel of Faith's warm breath on her neck wasn't the slightest bit odd. In fact, it felt exhilirating.

Faith's free hand brushed against Buffy's cheek, pausing at her chin and turning Buffy's face just slightly towards her own. "If you want me to stop, B, tell me now."

Buffy still didn't move, couldn't move. She felt as if every nerve in her body were tingling.
Faith moved a couple of inches closer to Buffy and slowly, placed her lips against Buffy's. Tentatively at first, in case Buffy were testing her, and then she ever so slightly applied more pressure.

Buffy tightened her hold on Faith's hand and moaned gently as her other hand reached around Faith's waist, placed it on her back and pulled Faith up against her own body.. The shockwaves going through her were almost too much to stand as she pictured the way the two of them looked at that moment. Picturing it as if she were watching the interaction outside of herself.

When Faith parted Buffy's lips with her tongue, and Buffy could feel Faith's tongue gently glide across her upper and then lower teeth, then touch her own tongue, Buffy felt a hunger pass through her. A hunger that desired everything that was happening and so much more. A hunger that was building with every second of contact. A hunger that....

and that was when she woke.

Every night for a week. The same dream.

Over two hundred miles away the pulse monitors in the basement of a large hospital were fluctuating erratically while a young girl's still form gave little indication of the turmoil she was experiencing.

Part Two

"Dennis, this is not my idea of fun," Cordelia said. "Now, give me my other Prada shoe or I claim laryngitis for a month," she warned, as her irritation with her roommate escalated. She'd been spending a ton of time at the office and hadn't had much time for him but she was thirty minutes late getting to the office and she still had to pick up coffee. She looked under her bed, did an extensive search

---

of her closet and checked in between the cushions of the sofa without success. This is ridiculous, she thought.
"Are you listening to me? Because ponder this, Casper. I can move back in with Angel and lease this place in a heartbeat. And I don't mean someone that's open-minded like me. If I have to hold out for a controlling old nag that resembles your mother, I will!" she yelled at her living room ceiling.

Cordelia waited impatiently for what seemed like an eternity before giving in. "Fine. That's fine. You can keep the Prada. I have other shoes, you know."

Turning around to go back to her room and pick a less outfit coordinated pair of heels, she was startled to see a black Prada shoe floating at eye level a few inches in front of her.

"Yeesh! Give me a heart attack," she said as she snatched the shoe from thin air. Lifting her left leg and sliding her foot in the shoe, she inhaled slowly and added in a slightly calmer manner, "I know I haven't been home much, Dennis, but work is hectic and Angel really needs my help right now. Visions aren't a part time job."

Silence.

"Dennis?"

Slam

Cordelia walked down the hallway and stood in front of her bedroom door. "If you're going to hang out in my room, please refrain from slamming my door." She glanced at her watch and made a resolution with herself to try and spend more time with Dennis. As soon as things were settled. If she took back roads, she could still get to the office fashionably late. She was just about to open the front door when it happened again.

Slam

"I'm going to let that one go since you are obviously having a bad incorporeal day. Just keep your mitts off of my shoes."

When she strolled into the office of Angel Investigations almost an hour late, Cordelia was met by the stares of Angel and Wesley.
Angel was bent over searching through Cordelia's desk drawers and Wesley was sitting on the edge of her desk and talking on her phone.

"You're late," Angel remarked.

"Good morning to you too, Angel," she said. "Can I help you find something or would you prefer to just continue rummaging through my desk?"

Angel closed the drawer he had been foraging in. "I'm trying to find the coffee. There wasn't any out on the counter. Didn't you order any ground coffee yet?"

Sitting down at her desk, Cordelia pulled a couple of bags of coffee from her carry-all and handed them to Angel. "I drove halfway to the office before I remembered that my co-workers wouldn't be able to make it through the day without their precious caffeine. I had to turn around, go to the store, find someone to grind the beans for me since we don't have a coffee grinder, Angel, and then come all the way back here."

Angel took the bags and walked away from Cordelia without a word. Since when was he supposed to be making the coffee?

"Um... you're welcome," Cordelia said, while she turned on her computer monitor and placed her carry-all into her bottom desk drawer. "Angel, any new leads on the Anchovy case?"

"Anchovy? Is that a new...ah. First of all, the client's name is Antolini... and no. Nothing new," Angel replied. As an after thought he added, "Since you mentioned it, check the file to make sure it's not under Anchovy." Angel made a mental note to look over the most recent files for inaccuracies and went into his office.

"Ooookay. Is everyone in a bad mood today? What about you, Wesley? How are you today?"

Wesley placed a hand over the mouth piece of the phone, looked at Cordelia with a scowl and said, "How am I? I was jolly good prior to the telephone ringing off the hook when someone wasn't here to answer it." Turning his back, he continued with his conversation, "Yes, I understand perfectly, sir, but the price quoted still stands. Should you require our assistance to remove the...disturbance from your attic, it is imperative that we agree on the payment amount." After a brief pause, "What you do to your own place of residence is your business. I'm certain an explosive of that size will more than do the job....."

Cordelia jumped up, rushed around her desk and said, "Give me that." Taking the phone from him, she spoke into the receiver, "Hello, sir? I apologize. Our janitor had absolutely no business picking up the phone while I was away from my desk. He's mentally retarded so we do what we can to help him." Glaring at Wesley she continued, "Yes, of course sir. If you could please describe the situation to me, I am sure that we can work out some way to assist you. Can you hold for just a second?"

Cordelia placed the caller on hold and sat back down at her desk . She was just about to pick up line one to finish getting the clients information when Wesley bent over and placed both hands on her desk.

"The janitor?" he asked, with his eyebrows raised.

Angel stood in the doorway of his office and hoping to avoid another office argument said, "Wesley? Could you possibly help me with......something? Downstairs?"

"Just one moment, Angel." Wesley replied without losing eye contact with Cordelia.

"Yes, but....." Angel started.

"The mentally retarded janitor, hmm?"

Angel gave up and went back into his office to pick up line one. At times like this, he wondered why Doyle had encouraged co-workers in the first place.

Cordelia remained sitting but leaned forward in her chair. "Perhaps you had failed to notice this Wesley, but the space you are standing on is just a minute portion of a very large establishment called an office building."

Wesley straightened and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was not amused.

Cordelia continued, "Now, seeing as we have to pay for the office space and Angel's downstairs living space with currency, we have to earn money by aiding people and

---

relieving their lives and homes of demons...or whatever they need to be ridded of. Are you getting all this or do I need to type it up in a memo for you?"

"Oh, I'm hearing you quite well, Queen of the Glammed," Wesley replied with a surly expression. "And I will have to decline on that memo since I've seen you hen peck before and I'd like to get a few things done before the sun goes down today."

Angel walked out of his office and stood next to Cordelia's desk. "Is it possible for us to go one day without the two of you arguing?" he asked.

Neither Cordelia or Wesley broke eye contact with the other.

"Angel, I was just elaborating on what we do here at Angel Investigations to Wesley since he seemed to be confused about..."

"I beg your pardon. Being that I'm the one out in the field doing most of the assisting with the demon killing that we get paid for, I was about to explain to Cordelia here that if she got to work on time now and again to answer the telephone herself, we might have more clients."

Angel felt his aggression mounting and tried to repress it. "Cordelia, prior to the customer hanging up from being on hold for so long, I picked up the line and took his information for you. Wesley, here's the client's address," he said, while handing Wesley a slip of paper. "Go there. Check it out. If you need me, call me. If you'd rather pretend whatever you find is Cordelia and kill it on your own, be my guest."

Wesley pocketed the slip of paper, adjusted his glasses and smirked at Cordelia. "Well, I'll be on my way then, Angel," he said as he walked away with a sense of obvious triumph. He paused by the entrance of the office in order to put on his suit jacket.

"Excuse me! I wasn't the one advising the client to blow up their own attic," Cordelia told Angel. "I saved that client. If it wasn't for me there wouldn't have been anyone on hold for you to talk to."

"I can still hear you," Wesley said, standing in the open entrance to the office.

"I said it out loud, Mr. Suck Up."

Entering his office, Angel decided he'd had enough, "Cordelia! That's enough!" he growled. "Wesley is not your employee and you are not his boss. I am."

Wesley, satisfied that he wasn't in trouble with Angel, closed the office door behind him and left to check out an attic.

Angel continued, now somewhat calmer, "Wesley was attempting to help in your absence. There was no reason to insult his efforts."

"I'm sorry, but did I interrupt a Men Supporting Men group meeting? Last I checked, we had an answering machine."

"Close the door and sit down."

"Yes sir," Cordelia snipped. She shut his office door and plopped down in one of the two chairs in front of Angel's desk.

Angel took the chair opposite of Cordelia with a loud sigh. "Wesley has been dealing with something rather disturbing these past couple of days. Something that I just found out about this morning."

"And how does this affect me?"

"Depends. Have you been having any strange dreams lately?"

Part Three

Buffy stumbled through her morning routine of showering and getting dressed. It was hard enough co-habititating with four other people in Xander's cramped basement. Severe lack of sleep wasn't helping matters any.
One major question was still haunting her. Since Willow had nothing to do with the dream, why did dream-Faith mention expecting what happened to happen with Willow?

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Come in."

Her watcher Giles entered with his hand over his mouth, barely containing a yawn. He leaned against the sink feeling exhausted but still managing to notice that Buffy looked worse than he felt. "You look tired, Buffy. I realize you're dealing with an abundance of loose ends at the present time but you do need to rest once in a while," he told her. Giles was concerned that with Adam loose, Riley locked away inside the Initiative compound and being uprooted from her home, that Buffy was in over her head.

"I was out late patrolling. No big," Buffy replied in a casual tone while pulling her blond hair up into a ponytail. Over her life span, she had fought werewolves, vampires and demons. There was no reason to tell everyone that a dream had managed to effect her so much. Especially a dream in which she had been encroaching on the new world of lesbianism with a rouge slayer.

"Right. Patrolling. So...the bags under your eyes are just overnight luggage? Because they appear to resemble a five.... or possibly even a seven day holiday," Giles remarked, while running a hand through his hair.

Hanging her towel on the door hook, Buffy said, "I'm good, Giles. I just need to come up with a plan. Riley may or may not be in serious danger and a man made killing machine that has no discernible weakness is wandering the streets of Sunnydale where he recently killed a small child. This may not be apocolyptic but I'd rather not sit back and wait for it to get any worse."

"I share your concerns, Buffy. However, the reoccurring dreams about Faith..."

"Faith? How do you...?"

"Willow told me that you were having dreams about Faith and that you accused her of...."

Buffy cut him off again, "I didn't accuse Willow of any thing and I told her about some very private things in confidence. Also known as confidential." Buffy couldn't believe Willow would tell Giles about this.

"I don't care if you accused her of anything. My priority is you, Buffy. You have been under a huge amount of pressure. It is possible that the dreams..."

"I can deal, Giles. I'm the Slayer, right? I just need a plan. And this bathroom is really not big enough for two people," Buffy said, as she gathered her things and left.

Willow was sitting on the fold out mattress of Xander's couch

---

watching cartoons when Giles followed Buffy out of the cramped bathroom.

"Where's Xander and Anya?" Buffy asked.

Willow said, "Oh, they just went upstairs to..."

"I was asking Giles."

Willow and Giles exchanged confused looks.

"Well, I suppose that they went upstairs - as Willow said," Giles explained. "I myself am relieved to have a bit of peace and quiet."

"Buffy?" Willow said. "Did I do something...." she started to ask when she noticed Giles behind Buffy doing the international pictionary pantomime of someone sleeping with his palms together forming a pillow, his eyes closed and his head tilted onto his hands.

"Giles, do you know what the word confidential means?" Buffy asked, knowing that she was acting childish and hating herself for it.

Putting her hand up to let Giles know he didn't need to answer, Willow said, "Buffy, you came to me about something personal and private. I realize that...but Giles was worried about you. I told him you were having some....weird dreams about Faith. Just to put Giles at ease. I swear he's the only person I told."

Giles put his arm around Buffy but she brushed him off. "Which was the same reason why I told Xander about the dreams. We're all concerned. Xander asked if he should be helping out with patrolling, so I told him. I apologize. I wasn't aware that you wished it to be private. He was the only person I told."

Xander and Anya came down the stairs. Xander carried juice boxes and sandwiches. Anya carried a board game.

"Hey guys. I thought you might be hungry," Xander said while passing around the food and drinks. Buff, how'd you sleep last night? Any better?"

"Is it because of the dreams about Faith?" Anya asked as she sat down on the floor and began counting Monopoly money. "Spike thought maybe Willow could whip up a spell. Willow?"

Buffy interrupted, "If Willow only told Giles and Giles only told Xander, how does everyone know that I've been having dreams about Faith?" Buffy asked.

"I told many, many people." Xander confessed.

"Perfect." Buffy began pacing. "This is very personal to me, Willow. Not to mention a little embarrasing now that everyone knows that dream-me is getting all hot and heavy with Faith."

"Huh?" asked Xander, his interest suddenly burgeoning.

"I came to you because I thought you would be able to empathize from the female point of view. Not just because you're my best friend but also due to your knowledge of witchcraft," Buffy continued.

"Buffy? I never..."

Xander could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Intimate dreams? You and Faith are intimate? In the dreams?"

"Xander, don't act like....oh." The realization closed around her like a fist."You didn't....know." Buffy looked at Willow. "You didn't say anything about that part, did you?" she asked.

"No, Buffy. Of course not," Willow declared.

"No. Of course not," Buffy repeated. She had just outed herself. If she had been thinking clearly she'd have known that Xander couldn't know that part without hounding her and drilling her for details. "I have to get out of here. I need some air. And Xander, if you say the words intimate or dream, I'm going to...I don't know...probably sit down in the middle of this floor and cry," Buffy warned, as she walked towards the basement door leading to the outside.

"Buffy, wait. What if there are - clues in the details? Important clues," Xander said, hoping for this very special moment to continue.

Buffy held onto the door handle considering a number of things to say to Xander and instead, just walked outside longing to rewind the previous mortifying five minutes of the day.

Giles rolled his eyes in disgust at Xander, gathered up his clothes and went into the bathroom. If Buffy wanted to discuss the issue further with him, he decided that he would be better prepared after a hot shower.

Willow, also disgusted with Xander, smacked him in the arm. Twice.

Anya continued counting the monopoly money. She had ceased listening to the conversation some time ago.

---

Nicole, your Snarky!Cordy is a thing of beauty. I miss her more than ever, now. The voices in this are absolutely perfect.

Want more! Now!

---

Good stuff, Nicole.

I noticed a couple of small things, though.

There was no reason to tell everyone that a dream had managed to effect her so much.

This should be 'affect.'

Especially a dream in which she had been encroaching on the new world of lesbianism with a rouge slayer.

As much as Faith loves red lipstick, I think you meant 'rogue' slayer.

Keep it coming!

---

I miss her more than ever, now.

I love scruffy Wes almost as much as Ple but I really miss the bitchyCordy and bumblingWes from Season One Angel.

As much as Faith loves red lipstick, I think you meant 'rogue' slayer.

Ah. Gives a whole different look to my favorite evil overachiever.

This should be 'affect.'

Did you notice I used both spellings in the story? I didn't until just now. I suppose I could say that I was just testing ya'll but I would be lying. *g*
Changing both now on hard copy and the encouragement is much appreciated.
I'm loving this story even more so now that I know where I'm going with it.

---

Man, I love your Cordy. She's spot-on.

---

Wrod.

---