Night Terrors

by
BmblBee

Part Thirty-One

Wesley stood with his ear pressed against the door he had just slammed shut. As soon as he heard the front door open and close he rushed over to the window and peeked out, watching the bane of his existence walk away. His lips silently formed the word, "Angel"

The entire evening had been hell. Sitting so close to those strong arms that used to wrap themselves around him, watching Angel's huge meat hook hands as they gently lifted the expensive long stemmed glassware. His lips as he sipped the smooth drink, his tongue darting out to lick the remnants off.

Wesley whimpered. Two years was not enough time to forget how good those cool hands felt as they pawed his pliant, naked flesh. Fingers that pinched, poked, prodded and penetrated every erogenous zone and orifice of Wesley's body.

All evening he was at war with himself. His body, particularly his cock, wanted to throw itself at the vampire. Wes could clearly see him covering Angel in kisses and ripping the clothes off both of them just to feel skin on skin. Rocking against him, humping his leg like a poodle in heat.

And he knew just how Angel would respond. He really was a super hero, at least in bed. He worked that cock like a magic wand, waving it in the air and "ABRAKADABRA", turning Wes into a quivering puddle of goo.

Wesley never could understand how Angel could be such a sweet, caring and sensitive lover in bed then cold as ice before the cum had started to dry. Still, he was a man that knew what to do with another man's body.

But that wasn't what he walked away from. If it was just the sex, Wesley would have stayed. He would have continued to warm Angel's sheets at night and been his own man during the day. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way his heart had gotten involved.

Somehow, when he least expected it, Wesley Wyndham Pryce fell in love. And the object of his affection? One certain cave browed, self important, forked haired vampire.

Wes sighed as he peered through the fold of the curtain. He watched as Angel kicked the flat tire and could almost lip read the profanities rolling off his lips. Wes smirked. "Good! Jerk!" Wes then smoothed out the curtain and went to bed.

~*~*~*~*~

As soon as they got in the car, Spike pressed the button that brought down Xander's window. He hoped the cool early morning air might help to sober the human up.

"AHHH! Damn that's wonderful!" Xander had hoisted himself up and was hanging his head out the window like a dog.
Spike chuckled before reaching over and grabbing Xander's arm, pulling him back in to his seat. "Careful there, Pet, don't want ta lose you now."

Xander turned to face the vampire. He was overwhelmingly touched by his concern for Xander's well being. "That's so nice. Oh my God. That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Nobody treats me that nice except Kim."

Suddenly Xander remembered the whole point of the evening and he felt himself teetering on the edge of a crying jag.
His face screwed up and Spike was afraid the dam was about to burst. "KIM! Kim is missing, Spike. We have to find him. I love him, Spike. I can't lose him."

Spike frowned. "Thought you said Kim was not your boyfriend."

Xander cracked up, whooping and laughing, his mood shifting direction quicker than a coon hound on the trail of a rabbit. "NO, silly. I love him like a brother. He is my bestest friend and my bro. Ya don't fuck a bro, Spike. That's just not done."

Spike laughed and watched as Xander again leaned out letting the rushing air blow his thick, dark hair into a halo of fluff. Spike had trouble keeping his eyes on the road. His fingers twitched on the wheel. He knew they would be arriving back at Xander's place soon. He wondered what he should do. Walk the man to his door? Sure, he reasoned, it was all part of the 'seeing him home safe' routine. Then what?

Spike looked over again. He had to be honest, at least with himself. He wanted Xander. Badly. Even ten years older he was still Xander. Sweet, funny, caring and damn if he wasn't sexy as fuck. Growing into full manhood was a good look for him.

Spike let his eyes wander down to the human's lap and wondered just what he had tucked away there. Unfortunately during the times they had been forced to bunk together, try as he may, Spike had never been able to sneak a peek.
The old Xander was very modest.

'All right then.' Spike reasoned. 'A walk to the door it is. Then, if he's drunk enough I may just get a good night kiss. Possibly with tongue.' Spike looked at Xander who was now sticking his tongue into the wind and seemed to be trying to lick the fog. 'Possibly not.' Spike reconsidered.

'This has to be done carefully. He's already squiggled by the odd turn of events today, can't do anything that will scare him off completely. So that's it. Slooooow and easy. Baby steps at first. Wait as long as it takes to get that nummy treat twixt the sheets.'

Just as Spike had solidified his plan and knew he could be patient enough to make it work, he realized they had arrived. He pulled up to the curb and jumped out. He hurried around and opened Xander's door extending his hand to help him to his feet.

Xander snorted. "So apparently chivalry isn't dead after all."

"Hey, not my fault you can't hold your alcohol. They told me to make sure you got home in one piece and that's what I'm doing. The whole lot of them would blame me if you got eaten before you made it to the door, now wouldn't they?"

With his arm around Xander's waist for balance, the two of them stumbled their way up the walk as Xander fished around in his pocket for the house keys. After several unsuccessful trys, Spike finally took charge and the door swung open. "Well, there you are then. Safe as a baby in it's mum's arms."

Xander stepped inside then turned to Spike and grabbed a huge fistful of the front of Spike's shirt. With a quick snap of the wrist he jerked the startled vampire through the open doorway and slammed him against the wall. When Spike's mouth fell open in surprise, Xander dove in.

He took only a second to remember to be grateful that Xander had previously invited him in. That could have been very painful if he hadn't.

Pressing himself flat against the shocked blond, Xander proceeded to kiss him within and inch of this unlife, his tongue doing acrobatic stunts inside Spike's mouth that had his tonsils sitting up and taking notice. Xander moaned, his hips undulating and his hands still clamped firmly around the bony wrists of the blissfully happy vamp. Finally conceding that his lungs needed air, Xander pulled back slightly.

"So I'm drunk again. What do you think, Spike? You think we'll ever have sex when I'm sober?"

Spike was stumped. He had no idea what the right answer was but he knew one thing for sure. His fear of rejection over a good night peck was no longer a concern. After a quick reflection, Spike did what Spike always does. He tossed his duster to the side, he kicked the front door shut and he scooped the human up in his arms to hustle him off toward the bedroom.

Part Thirty-Two

Spike immediately scooped the human up, flung him over his shoulder fireman style, and made a dash for the bedroom. When he arrived he tossed him down and Xander landed on his back with a 'plop'.

"Damn, Spike. Drunk human here. Unless you want me to barf before we ever get started I suggest you go a little easier." Xander rolled over and hoisted himself up on his elbow. He watched as Spike hurriedly undressed, chucking boots, shirt, pants.

"You know Spike, we probably shouldn't do this. I mean I feel kind of guilty. We're supposed to be finding those missing men and instead here I am, about to have sex with the one man I've spent years dreaming about. Having sex with." Xander scowled and tried to decide if that sentence made sense.

Spike stood by the edge of the bed, stark naked, with his hands on his hips and his cock pointing northward like the Washington monument. He had been dreaming about sex? With Spike? After giving it a quick thought, he decided reason was the path to take with Xander. Immediately his face softened and he slithered onto the bed, on his side, facing his about to be nummy. "Look, Xan," Xander grinned at the nickname and Spike knew he was headed in the right direction. "This is a very stressful situation. I can't stand to see my Xanny all stressed out."

Xander aimed his drunken gaze up and gasped. Spike was beautiful. Blue eyes that held so much concern looked down on him and he wondered if the vampire was putting him in a thrall. Xander decided he could live with being a thrall and rolled over on his back like a puppy. Spike grinned and his fingers started popping shirt buttons.

"We're all going to stop this demon and save your friends but we can't do it this very second can we?"

Xander gave that some thought and shook his head. "No."

"See? Now, you just put yourself in Spike's hands and let him make you feel all better. O.k?'

Xander settled in and grinned like a loon. "K."

Spike relaxed and went to work. He threw his leg over the human and straddling his torso, tugged the shirt off him. With admiration, Spike ran his cool hand across the strong muscular chest.

He flicked his thumbs over the pink round nipples till they hardened into sensitive pebbles. Spike's fingers dug in to the thick, dark chest hair, each tug sending sharp, nearly painful sparks through Xander's body and warming his crotch.

"Shit, Xan, you're perfect. So strong, so pumped." Spike leaned down and flicked his tongue over first one nipple then the other, alternating between sucking, nipping and blowing cool air over the heated flesh. Xander's chest now rose and fell erratically with the gasps of passion.

Xander squirmed and whimpered, his hands tried to work their way underneath the vampire to remove his pants but the blond wouldn't move, he just chuckled at the human's frantic attempts.

Finally, Spike took pity and lifted himself up. Immediately, Xander unfastened his trousers, ignoring the wet spot on the front, and wrestled them low enough to free his cock and scoop out his heavy balls. "Oh, God, that's better."

With one hand around the base of his cock, the other went to the top of Spike's head and pushed down. "Suck me, please Spike. I want to see you suck my cock."

It was a mental picture that sent electric charges shooting down Xander's spine. He loved having his cock sucked. Feeling a man's tongue lick and lap at the shaft while the lips latched on with an almost painful suction. No woman could understand what really made it good. Although, he had to admit, Anya gave it a hell of a try.

Spike smirked evily, making no move toward the cock that Xander was frantically stroking. Instead he moved forward placing his knees on either side of Xander's shoulders. "Fuck, yeah, a good blow job is just the thing, innit?" Spike held his dick between this thumb and forefinger. Tipping forward, he slapped one hand on the wall above the headboard and pushed his wet, dripping cock toward Xander's mouth smacking it against his face leaving wet streaks of precum. "Open up, Xan. Eat my fuckin' meat."

"SHIT! Spike, I....." Before he could protest, argue or thank the vampire, the biggest cock he had ever seen was shoved into his mouth. Immediately he began sucking.

"FUCK!" Spike jerked forward. Releasing his cock, he placed his hand on the cheek of his ass and rocked himself. He wanted to ram down the human's throat, he wanted to violently fuck his face till the convulsions in his throat squeezed the orgasm from him, but he didn't because this was Xander. This was too good to ruin. This was what he wanted as much as needed.

He watched the human's face turn red as he struggled between breaths. He also knew the man was fucking his own fist behind him and it wouldn't take him long. He looked down into the brown eyes that stared back up at him and knowing that this was Xander Harris drove his need to cum even higher.

Spike wanted to fuck him in the ass. He wanted to shove his hard, aching cock so far up the human's hot, living hole that when he shot his load, Xander would taste it on the back of his tongue for a week. He wanted to fill his bowels with cool vampire cum then ram a butt plug in him to hold it in place.

He wanted all that and in the far corners of his still functioning brain cells he knew what he really wanted was just Xander. He wanted hugs and kisses. The poetic soul wanted romance. Next time.

This time he couldn't have stopped if Buffy herself walked in on them. With a stake. With a cross carved on it. With holy water dripping out of her cunt. "Yeah, just like that. I know it's a lot, just take as much as you can. Fuck, lick the head. Shit, ow, damn, bite it again, like that, harder, oh fuck, that's good. Jesus, Xan I want to cum in your mouth. I want to look at you and watch you swallow my cum. Can I do that? Can I shoot my wad in your mouth?"

Xander wanted to answer. He wanted to shout "YES! YES! HELL, YES!" But doing so would mean releasing the most wonderful thing he had ever had on his tongue. The taste, the smell, the incredible feel of the cool slick flesh slipping and sliding between his lips, it was all pure Spike.

His right hand desperately stroked as the familiar tingle tickled low in his sac. He knew it was full and heavy and it wouldn't take much more for it to explode in an orgasm that promised to hurt clear down to his toes.

Spike had lifted himself up and was now actively fucking his cock in and out, bouncing off the inside of Xander's cheeks aimlessly. With his free hand, Xander reached between Spike's legs and wiggled his fingers between the vampire's butt cheek. "Hell, yeah, you gonna finger me? You want to finger fuck my arse while I fuck your mouth? Do it, Baby. Push them thick fingers in my hole."

Suddenly it all overwhelmed him. Opening his eyes, Xander knew, even drunk he knew, this was no cheap imitation. This was Spike. The one and only. Roughly, he shoved his second finger deep into Spike's body. At the same time he gave one last squeeze as he fucked his fist and he let the huge cock hit the back of his throat where he swallowed around it.

The feeling of the head of his dick being tweaked by the hot wet muscles of the man's throat was the finishing touch. Quickly he grabbed the base of his cock to stop himself from jamming it deep and causing permanent damage.

At that moment, Spike felt the hot spunk splatter against his cool round butt and he let loose with a load of his own. He pulled out and watched in wonder as Xander tipped back his head and blissfully laid with his mouth open as Spike filled it with cum. Like a baby bird waiting for a worm.

Pulse after pulse it shot stringy blobs of milky white passion that hit the calm, tan face. It coated his tongue, dripped off his nose and several drops landed on his chin. What missed was quickly licked up and eaten.

As the last shudder ran through him, Spike shook the last drop off into the eager hungry mouth. He then leaned over and stuck his tongue in the gooey puddle, sharing a kiss that tasted of his passion and Xander's happiness. Ravenously, he licked it out as he felt the last of the warm seed drip off his backside.

It never occurred to Xander that he had been able to cum without saying a word and the thirty minute time limit was forgotten. They both knew that Spike would be staying.

Part Thirty-Three

Angel stomped into the luxurious suite and headed straight for the bathroom to wash the grease and grime off his hands. It had not been the night he had imagined. Wes had NOT thrown himself into Angel's strong, accepting, forgiving arms. Hell, he grumbled, the little fuck wouldn't even look at him.

Then, to top it off, he had had to change his own flat tire. He strongly considered hunting down and biting the prick that had left a railroad spike right in the exact part of the street he would be parking. Fucking coincidence!

"Fuck! Where's the fucking respect? Who the fuck expects a superhero to change his own fucking tire? Bet that little prick, Spiderman never changes his own tires."

After a couple swipes to dry his hands, Angel tossed the towel to the bathroom floor with as much oomph as he could manage. Even noticing that housekeeping had left him a new rubber duckie, perched atop a disposible bio-hazard bag, didn't lift his spirits.

His plans for tonight had involved a messy Wessy, not a cummy dummy.

He continued to fume and curse as he marched to the kitchenette to nuke a couple packs of blood. He had hoped that he would need an extra one to plump and fill his tube 'o love but Wesley was apparently not yet ready to be wooed and wowed.

Pitching the empties in the trash, he headed for his worthless childe's bedroom. No sense in the whole night going to waste, he reasoned. If nothing else, he could always fuck Spike up the ass then get some sleep. He decided he would try another tactic with Wes when they all got together tonight.

"If you think it's over between us, Wes..." he muttered. "You are very much mistaken." He then banged on the closed door and shouted. "Spike! Get up and get it up! Mr. Wiggles wants to go spelunking!"

Booting the door open, he was shocked and confused to find the room empty and the bed neatly made.
"What the fuck?" He vaguely remembered Spike offering to take Harris home, but that shouldn't have taken this long.

Angel felt defeated. He stood in the center of Spike's room, his anger had slid away and left him lonely, depressed and totally Wesless. It was true, he thought, the life of a superhero is a thankless one. Sadly, Angel crawled into Spike's bed. Then, as a last act of defiance, he snatched the chocolate mint off his pillow and popped it in to his mouth.

Wesley dragged himself out of bed. He picked his glasses up off the bed stand and slipped them on as he stumbled to the bathroom. He wasn't sure what time it was but he already felt like he needed a nap.

He had tossed and turned for hours. He knew coming here would be a mistake. He scolded himself for ever leaving London and cursed the big lug for tricking him into this unwanted reunion. But, to be honest, Wes knew he couldn't blame anyone but himself. Angel was the king of dirty tricks when it came to getting what he wanted and Wes knew exactly what Angel wanted.

The worst part, Wesley conceded, was that he knew he was weak. He loved and wanted to be with Angel so bad it laid like a brick in his stomach and stabbed like a sword through his heart. If they didn't kill this demon and haul arse fast, he would be rolling over and begging like the good puppy he was.

When he finally did fall asleep, he was awakened after only three hours by the repetitious knocking of the oak headboard in the master suite as it bounced continuously off the wall that adjoined their rooms.

He promised himself, not for the first time, to search the old man's room back at the Watcher's Council for a stash of little blue pills. Fucking Rupert Giles could apparently get it up more often than a bull in a field of happy cows on a sunny day.

Shuffling out to the kitchen, he found Giles and the ever present Andrew sharing a pot of tea and a cream cheese bagel, whispering and giggling.

"Wes, good morning, or I guess, good evening is more accurate. Did you sleep well? We sure did."

Wesley scowled and scrounged for a packet of Earl Grey. Naturally there were plenty. "To be honest, Andrew, no, I did not sleep well. Exactly where are we on this demon thing, Rupert? Family reunions are fine and dandy but we are here for a purpose and sitting around drinking wine and tea is not getting it done. We really should be finding a way to dispatch this Nambulist and return to London post haste. Where is Willow?"

Giles eyebrows rose at the fussy watcher's rant but he refused to allow it to affect his own mood. He had noticed the pointed lack of interaction between Wesley and Angel earlier and assumed that was what was behind this evenings impression of Oscar the Grouch. Andrew instantly bristled at the perceived disrespect to the Head of the Watcher's Council and had a snotty retort on the ready.

Calmly, Giles placed a hand of restraint on Andrew and turned to Wes. "She is in the small study off the dining room. As a matter of fact she is preparing a spell that should tell us exactly what is going on with this demon and it's relationship to Xander. We would like to be able to formulate a plan of attack for when we all converge tonight. Would that suit you?"

Immediately Wes regretted his nasty attitude but blatant jealousy directed at the two men who were all but snuggling over their breakfast caused his apology to die on his tongue. He snatched up his tea cup, mumbled and walked away pretending he didn't hear Andrew's raspberry or Giles snicker.

Wesley stomped down the hall and, without knocking, pushed on the swinging door that led to the library. The small room was set up as an effective home office and had all the equipment and reference materials needed for demon research.

"Hey Wes."

Wesley looked down at the small redheaded woman on the floor and answered her with a very nonenthusiastic "Willow" He noticed that she had shoved aside the professionally placed furniture and rolled up the exotic, expensive oriental rug. He wouldn't even comment on the chalk circle she had drawn on the bamboo hard wood floor.

Pulling a chair over to the corner, he sat down to watch. He had seen so much magic over the last two years it no longer thrilled or shocked him. It was just another tool in the box. Another french fry in the Happy Meal.

Returning her focus to the task at hand, Willow sat cross legged in the center of a circle she had drawn with grey chalk. In front of her sat two bowls. A small one with herbs and ingredients she would use in the spell casting was near her right hand while the large one of seemingly clear water, sat directly in front. Sitting to the left of the larger bowl was a wine glass.

Wesley leaned back stretching his legs out in front and crossing them at the ankles. He sipped his tea nonchalantly. "So what exactly is this spell for?"

Willow continued to quietly chant and sprinkle ingredients into the large bowl of water. "A Nambulist is a demon that drifts through the sleep dimensions. They are generally harmless and just toy with our dreams then move on. I'm going to take a peek into that dimension and see what's there. Then I will interject a bit of Xander in the form of the saliva from his glass and see what it attracts."

Wesley nodded and picked a bit of cheese cracker out from under his fingernail. Sounded logical to him. Since he was bored he decided to stick around and watch. 'Besides,' he thought, 'It beats watching the shameful sight of an older, supposedly dignified, man canoodling with an annoying underling.'

Part Thirty-Four

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was an analytical man. A man of science and reason. A man with both feet firmly planted in the realm of the solid and the clearly understood. Still, he had been part of the Watcher's Council nearly all his life and had glimpsed, more than once, the supernatural often enough to realize that these things were not exclusive of each other.

In fact, they were nicely complementary and coercive. Wesley was pragmatic. Wesley was a man accepting of the weird. His relationship with Angel had proven that.

Right now he sat quietly at the side and watched as Willow expertly manipulated the natural elements of the human world in order to uncover the aspects of the otherworldly.

Their conversation ceased as her concentration demanded and Wesley became as unnoticed as the desk or chairs. One by one she would sprinkle herbs and ingredients into the clear water of the large bowl as she chanted, murmuring in what appeared to be Latin, but no Latin that Wesley had ever heard.

After several minutes, just when he was beginning to doubt that anything was going to happen, he felt the shift. The light in the room seemed to dim everywhere except the very center of the chalk circle. The air in the room became denser, heavier, syrupy, and he could almost taste it on his tongue.

Sweet, sugary, thick and uncomfortable to his lungs. He thought about leaving, slipping out unnoticed, but when he tried, his limbs refused to respond to his mental commands. Apparently he would be staying.

Her chanting became louder, firmer, more demanding in tone. In response, the air around her began moving and swirling. Wesley's attention was again drawn to the bowl. The water had previously been still and calm, disturbed only when something was dropped into it. Herbs, powders, and suspicious fleshy things.

It's ripples would quickly fade leaving it again calm and placid. Now, however, it too had started to move. Slowly at first, it quickly picked up speed. It churned and turned in a clockwise motion as though being stirred by a large invisible spoon. Faster now, it swirled, churning and bubbling.

Closing her eyes, Willow held both palms out over the turbulent water and she called out, now in English. "Goddess of the elements of earth, wind, fire and ice, transform this liquid to a window of truth and knowledge. Let us see, with your approval, through this portal and into the land of dreams. Help us find that which we speak."

She then picked up Xander's wine glass and dipped it into the roiling water. Wesley then leaned forward, intent on seeing whatever was to be revealed. Again the witch's chanting became unintelligible as she turned her hands over, palms upward. Slowly, she raised her hands and much to Wesley's surprise, the liquid left the bowl.

Still bowl shaped, the water hung suspended in the air as if being contained in a clear glass bubble. Opening her eyes, Willow moved her hands all around the turbulent water. As she did, it slowed, calmed, and finally stilled. Wesley wondered what the witch could do with fishes and loaves. A sacrilegious thought he quickly checked.

Willow wriggled her bony butt around to get more comfortable and smiled. "O.k. now, let's take a look and see what we have here."

Her cheery, bubbly tone snapped Wesley out of his trance and he was ashamed that something so mundane as a vision spell had held him in such a thrall.

The round, clear volume of water hung suspended in mid air and awaited her request. Willow reached in her pocket and retrieved the bear tooth necklace which she held firmly in her hand. "Show us this man's dreams. Tell us what haunts him and who walks with him in the dimension of sleep." Following her command, the water began to cloud over. Although the liquid itself did not move, shapes and forms inside it did.

Like a child's snow globe that had been shaken too hard, at first it was dim and hard to see. Gradually familiar shapes began to take form. Released from his partial paralysis, Wesley slipped to his knees and scooted closer to get a better look. "What is that building? Do you recognize it?'

"Yes, It's the Sunnydale High School. It's where we all graduated."

"Xander dreams about school?"

Willow grinned and waited for a bald man with cheese slices to appear. Quickly her smile faded as she saw her old friend enter. She could see the fear on his face, the desperation as he ran and she knew something was chasing him.

Immediately, as though she had forgotten, Willow grabbed a waxy yellow leaf from the smaller bowl and she dropped it into the floating water. With a spark of light, it disappeared, dissolved into the mixture and as it did, sound filled the room.

"It's coming Xander. We have to run."

Willow recognized the voice as her own.

"We have to stick together Xander. We can't fight this alone. RUN. Hurry. You have to hide, Xander, you're next and I'm not the one who can help you."

Willow knew that voice as Buffy's and she remembered that that was almost word for word the dialog on the night of the fall of Sunnydale. Almost, but something was not quite right. Still, it was all so familiar. It was the night so many of their comrades and friends had died. It was the night Xander walked away.

"He's been having nightmares." Willow felt helpless as she watched. Although she knew it was just a dream, it broke her heart to think her friend had been suffering with this for the last ten years. She wanted to stop it. She wanted to reach in and save him but knew she couldn't. It was, after all, just a dream.

She watched him race down the hallway expecting him to charge toward the basement but, much to her surprise, he didn't. Instead, he ran as the dream voices instructed him, in the direction of the gym, to the sound of voices cheering and games being played.

"Wait, that isn't right. There was certainly no basketball game that night. In fact none of us even went in to the gym that night. That was my voice but I never sent him there."

Wesley did not see the importance in the discrepancy. "It's been a decade, Willow. Memories get distorted. Dreams are not accurate memories."

"These dreams are memories, Wes, and no amount of time could cause them to dim or shift."

They both continued to watch as the dream grew in intensity. She could see the terror in his eyes and the perspiration stains under his arms as he darted through the maze of hallways to the sounds of false safety.

She watched as he reached the swinging double doors and pushed them wide open. Tears stung her eyes as she saw him flinch and gag at the sight of the torn and bloody bodies. "That never happened, Wes. Someone or something is changing his memories of that night to scare him."

Finally when she thought she could watch no more, he stopped. Stopped running. Stopped shouting. Willow could see him frozen in fear but she had no idea why.

With her hand squeezing so tightly around the bear tooth that the tip punctured her palm, Willow saw him slowly turn around. She could see his mouth open in a scream that died in his throat in terror. Immediately, he disappeared from the scene.

"What happened? Where did he go?" Wes couldn't stand it. It was like watching a movie and having the film break at the last, crucial moment.

Willow sighed, "He woke up. That must be the point where he always wakes up." Looking again at the water, Willow tipped her head. That should have been the end. The scene should have faded away, but it hadn't. Willow leaned closer, her attention again focused. "There, Wes, there did you see something? I thought I saw something."

Wes, too, caught movement. A shape. A shadow. Something. "What is that?" Willow asked as she too got on her hands and knees and scooted closer, her nose now no more than an inch from the vague picture in the water.

Suddenly a face, more mouth than features, black, threatening, knowing, slammed itself against the side of the water from within. So near and violent, both witch and watcher felt as though it may attack and rip their faces from their bodies.

The force of the demon caused the water to explode, spraying both shocked viewers with cold, wet liquid. Willow screamed and fell back on the palms of her hands. With a matching, unmanly screech, Wesley scrambled, crablike across the floor to the safety of the corner of the small room.

The image was gone. Splattered and dripping off the noses of both humans. When their breathing finally slowed, Willow's voice was the first to return and she used it to express what they both felt. "I think we just found our Nambulist."

Part Thirty-Five

Giles was stacking his cup and saucer on the counter next to the sink when Willow and Wesley entered the kitchen. "Well, there you two are. I was beginning to think we would have to send the hounds out to..... Willow? Are you shaking? What happened? Was there a problem with the spell?"

Giles quickly took her by the arm and led her to the nearest chair. The look of alarm on her face was matched by the trembling he felt coursing through her small body.

Once she was settled, the older Watcher gave her a hot cup of coffee and a chance to collect her thoughts. Finally, after a good five minutes, she set her cup down and took a deep breath, she glanced over at Wesley who had sat across from her.

His pale face and wide eyes told her that there had been no distortion of the water, no mistake of a shadow. The demon was very much there and the scarey part was that they knew he saw Willow just as clearly as she saw him. Although Wesley had also seen the demon, he was anxious to hear her take on it. Vampires were his comfort zone and he had no experience with killing a demon you couldn't touch. Immediately Andrew began his notes.

Finally, Willow pushed aside her empty cup and began, her hands folded in her lap. "Well, first, the spell worked. Very well. We both saw the Nambulist demon and I gotta say, wow, Giles, he's scary as H, E, double toothpicks."

Wesley actively nodded his agreement and took another gulp of tea. "She's right, Rupert. I've done some research on them but facts are few and far between. Nothing I read could have prepared me for what we saw. Have you ever come across one before?"

Giles rinsed his cup, dried his hands and sat down beside them. "Yes, once, years ago even before Sunnydale. I was a young man and an older watcher, along with the slayer of the time, was sent to dispatch it. I did assist with the pre-slay research but I was in no position to participate in the actual disposal. What I do know is this, Nambulists live in a dream dimension that intersects with ours. They are like ghosts, incorporeal, lacking in substance and solid form. They cruise, passing through as we sleep, always coming and going. At that time they can reach into our thoughts and they use that information to build scenarios in our dreams. Most are harmless pranksters, jokesters that tell us we are attending Council functions naked or that we are caught in our office with.........," Giles eyes darted back towards Andrew, then returned to the two sitting at the table with him and he continued ".... anyway, some Nambulist are drawn to people who are very sexual or sexually repressed and they seep into their minds causing their bodies to react."

Wesley blushed at the reminder of the number of times he had awakened with his boxers wet and stuck to his body. Glancing over, he noticed Willow also diverting her eyes as she considered how, what Giles was saying, fit with the impressions she received.

"That makes sense. Giles, this demon tried to frighten us off. I got a definite feeling of ownership, of possession. I think maybe once it found it's way into the nightmares Xander has, it was attracted by the strength of them. It feeds off the negativity and with each episode it grows stronger. Now, it almost feels like it has set up home there and is violently protecting it's territory."

Giles clasped his hands on the table. "That would explain why it seemed that Xander had summoned it. His night terrors emitted such negative energy that it actually called to the Nambulist. It would appear that the demon is now taking steps to feed that negativity. Keeping Xander's fear and anxiety level elevated makes the dreams stronger and in turn makes the demon stronger. It is a vicious cycle that must be broken, and although we will help and support him, Xander is going to have to be the one to do it. Could you tell from the dreams what his fear is that controls the negative energy?"

Willow nodded. "It's the night of the fall. His nightmares and fears are still trapped in the past. In college I took a class in psychology and learned about the negativity of repression. I think that Xander's attempts to deny and forget the horrors of his past have made the dreams his mind's way of reconciling and dealing with that part of him."

All of this made sense to Wes, but some things he didn't understand. "What about the missing men? Are they dead? What happened to them and how did the Nambulist do it and why?"

With no answers of her own, Willow, too, looked to Giles who, after some thought, tried to reason it out. "Well, using Willow's hypothesis, I think the demon has now gained enough strength to enter into our waking world for brief spurts of time. I believe it has targeted men who gave Xander happiness and removed them to prevent Xander from slipping the grip of the negative energy that is surrounding him. The Nambulist has banked it's entire being on the negative energy of Xander's dreams. If the nightmares end, the Nambulist dies. I don't think it has the ability to kill but the men could be trapped, suspended between dimensions. I have an idea about what must be done, but I'm afraid none of us is going to like it."

Reaching over, Giles tore off a sheet of paper from Andrew's note pad. He pulled a pen from his pocket and he began jotting down the names of ingredients and spells, then slid the paper across to Willow with his directions.

"I want you to research and prepare these spells. Spike should have Xander here in just a couple of hours and I would like for it to be done by then. We will explain the situation to Xander and he will have to understand how important it is that he do this.

Willow picked up the paper and her eyes got big. "Oh dear Lord, Giles! This is a..........."

"I know what it is, Willow, now, I suggest you get started."

~*~*~*~*~

Angel rolled over in the soft bed and scratched his flaky stomach as he came slowly awake. He cracked his eyes open just enough to see where he was. He knew from past personal experience that sometimes a superhero will drink too much and wake up in strange places.

As soon as his eyes scanned the room he remembered. This was the hotel. This was Spike's bed. Spike was not in it. Sadly, neither was Wes. Angel felt discouraged, downhearted. He'd been sure that when Wes saw him he would rush to him. All would be forgiven. All would be forgotten.

For the first time, Angel had to consider the possibility that maybe this would not work out at all. Maybe when the demon was destroyed, Wes would return to London and Angel would return to LA, alone.

"NO!" Tossing back the covers, Angel swung his feet over the side of the bed with such speed and determination that the rubber ducky flew out from between his legs and hit the floor with a splat.

"I refuse to give up! Would the Green Lantern walk away from Kato? Would the Lone Ranger leave Tonto? Would Quick Draw McGraw go home without Babalooie? Hell no! And I won't end this without Wes back where he belongs. Why? Because I'm ANGEL and I help the helpless and......" Angel rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands. "......without Wesley, I'm helpless."

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