OK....it's getting a little scary. Just like last night, I wake up bolt upright, sweaty, not sure what's real and what's not, if I'm still dreaming or not...I have to turn on the light and get out my diary and start writing before the the feeling will go away.

I heard this expression somewhere: a dream within a dream. How does that work? It messes with your head, I know that...I'm so used to knowing what's real and what isn't even when other people don't. Even when that little boy brought nightmares into Sunnydale from his coma it didn't trip me up too much. I never get lost. I always know where I am. What is with these dreams and how is it that MY imagination comes up with them? My fantasies aren't even like this.

So, anyway: I was dreaming that I was asleep. I jolted awake in bed. I saw his shadow on the windowsill and all the tension went out of me.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I croaked, "What's going on?" I blinked, wondering if there was another situation brewing, wondering what he was going to warn me about now.

He gave a velvety chuckle, "Watching you sleep," he said. "Sometimes. It relaxes me," He said. He sounded embarrassed, "Do you mind it?"

"No," I said.

"Sure?"

"What-having my own personal demon-killing body guard? No, I really don't mind,"

"I don't stay for long, usually," he said, rising from the windowsill, "I just like to check up on you, make sure everything's OK," he sat on the foot of the bed, "Is it?"

"Mmmmmm," I stretched, pushing the covers down a bit, "Yeah...so, sometimes you stay and watch me longer than other times?"

"Sometimes,"

"Like when?"

"Like..." he paused, "When it's hot and you kick the covers off," he said, "And you roll over and the light falls on your face...when you wear those little shorts to bed and you sleep on your stomach...and sometimes, when you're dreaming, you say my name,"

He was trailing his fingers across my hand.

"I do?" I knew it was true.

"Sometimes you crunch a pillow between your legs when you're sleeping, and I watch you moving against it," he said, "And you say my name, and little beads of sweat come up on your upper lip or on the back of your neck, sometimes your hair sticks to your face-"

"Ewww," I said.

"No," he said somberly, "It's beautiful. It's so beautiful. I love to watch your body move against the pillow, the way you roll your hips, the way you push into it, and I can hear you breathing harder and you make these little noises, you sound like a dove cooing, and I know you're dreaming about me. It's the most amazing thing in the world,"

"And you just sit there and watch me?"

He was quiet. I said, "What do you do while this is going on?"

"I don't wake you up,"

"Do you come into bed with me?"

"No, I don't want to wake you,"

"Do you stay on the windowsill?"

"Sometimes,"

"And other times?"

"Sometimes I come over next to the bed and watch you,"

"You just watch?"

"Well...yeah,"

"I'll make a deal with you," I said. "I'll talk you through one of my dreams, and I'll do what I do when I'm dreaming about you, if you'll do what you usually do,"

"I-" he gazed at me. He lowered his eyes, almost shyly. He looked down at my hand.

"Angel," I asked him, "Do you-do you touch yourself while you watch me?"

He hesitated.

"Yes," He admitted.

The air went out of me, it was such an exciting thought. I touched his cheek. "I want to watch you, too," I said. He looked up at me and his eyes were sharper. "Go back over there," I said.

He went back to the windowsill. While he went I did an evil thing and slipped my panties off under my nightshirt, I undid most of the buttons, too, so anything I wanted to show him I could show him just by rolling over or moving.

I waited a minute, just laying on my pillow, and then started to kick the covers off, gradually, like when I'm sleeping. I finally kicked them off the foot of the bed and I rolled onto my back and twisted so that the nightshirt slipped away from one of my breasts.

"I'm dreaming that you're kissing me," I said. "Your mouth, your tongue always taste good, I love it when you push your tongue into my mouth," I licked my lips and opened my mouth on the air, I shifted so that the edge of my nightshirt was brushing back and forth over my exposed nipple, "You're touching my nipple with your fingers, you're tickling me," I pretended it was happening and my heart started to beat faster. I heard him walk across the room and settle on the floor next to the bed. I twisted, and the silk fell away from my other breast, "Ooooo, you're tickling both of them," I breathed, "Oh, it's so nice, I love it so much," I was shifting but the nightshirt had fallen away and I couldn't rub my nipples against anything, I just undulated on the bed, "They're so sensitive, I love the way you tease them, the way you just barely touch them, ohhhh, Angel, touch them, tease me..." I begged. I wasn't putting on an act, I was feeling it. I heard his belt buckle come undone.

I rolled over and rubbed my face against the pillow. I twisted so the nightshirt rode up, inching over my legs, and finally stopped so it was just covering my behind, with just the very bottom of a cheek exposed, and I started to move on my stomach, nudging my hips into the bed a little, and the nightshirt came up higher, then back down, then even higher. I heard his zipper come down.

I was dying to peek but I didn't want to ruin it. I pushed my legs far apart and slid backward, and the nightshirt came up even more. I knew he could see half of the shadow between my legs. I turned my head just in time to watch him reach down and wrap his hand around his hardness, easing it out of his pants. I felt a trickle start inside me, seeing that, in a minute I would be wet. His eyes were narrowed as if he were sleepy, his mouth was open.

"Mmmm, your fingers," I said, and I slid backward so the nightshirt completely uncovered me, "Your fingers are touching me where I'm wet, I'm so wet I'm slippery, and your fingers are stroking me," I rolled over again, and the last button on the nightshirt slipped loose, I was completely uncovered except for my arms in the sleeves.

"Oh, Buffy," he sighed in a whisper.

I rolled my hips a little. Even in the dream I was amazed at myself, at how much I loved this. I thrashed a little, wriggling the last of the silk off of me, and I grabbed a pillow, pushing it down between my legs.

"I'm so hot inside, I'm aching," I whined, "You're slipping your finger inside me, just a little at first," I had to pause, because I was out of breath, "I'm so wet, Angel, I want you inside me, you push your finger inside me," my voice was climbing. I crushed the pillow in my thighs and jerked down on it, "Ohhh, and you're rubbing me, too, that little place, and you give me another finger inside...your fingers are so big, you can feel me throbbing around them, I knowyoucanfeelit....your fingers go so deep, and you're pushing them apart, making them wider," I had to stop to get air, "...And then, then you ease your fingers out and you flip me over and take my hips in your hands and you slide inside me..." and then I was losing it, I opened my eyes and saw his hand gliding over that incredibly long hardness and I thought about how it would feel, all the muscles in my body clenched and I was crying out, driving against the pillow. "Angel! I love you inside me, you're pushing me apart, you're so deep!" I was convulsing then, jamming myself against the pillow where I needed it, knowing he was watching me, knowing what it did to him. My body shook with the force of it, imagining him inside me and watching him, seeing how thick and tall it was...I screeched and shuddered as the the heat of it swept through me. I laid there for a minute when it was over. I was panting, the muscles in my legs jumping and tensing in release. I watched him. He was stroking faster, but strongly, gripping himself hard. His motions were so graceful, his eyes were fixed on me. He made something that I'd always giggled about look absolutely elegant.

I slid off the bed and crawled to him on all fours. He slowed his motions.

"No," I whispered, "Keep doing it, just like you were, please? I want to watch you,"

His eyes hooked into mine and he resumed, his hand moving in long, strong strokes along it, it was rigid and so thick, it was beautiful. He was beautiful all over. "Someday you'll be ready," he said softly, "When you're ready I'll give you everything you want. When you want me inside you, my life will start all over again," He said it with so much tenderness that I had to kiss him. I loved watching his eyes, the way he let me see everything, how good it felt. I touched the tip of him and a little string of moisture came away on my finger. I reached lower and cupped the softer part of him in my hand, gently holding him, and I bent my head and lapped at the tip, moisture seeping freely from my mouth, I was feeling greedy. I took as much as I could in my mouth and moved with him. His body went rigid, he gritted his teeth.

"Buffy," he rocked with each stroke now, "BuffyBuffy-"

"Give it to me," I whispered, "I want to taste it, give it to me,"

His head shot back and the first little jet spilled over my hand. I took him in my mouth again and felt it flood over my tongue, how do you imagine a taste in a dream? Creamy, salty, sweet...I could really develop a craving for it, and it wasn't even real. He made a series of soft little cries that died out, and then he moaned.

He pulled me against him. We kissed.

"You are so beautiful," I told him. I was naked in his arms. He held me in his lap, his arms under my knees and cradling my back. He kissed my cheeks and the tip of my nose.

He lifted me and took me to my bed. He was fixing the pillows. I stopped him so I could zip his pants back up for him, and I buckled his belt. He watched me, smiling. He put me in the bed and pulled the covers over me.

"Maybe once in a while you should wake me up," I said.

"Maybe I will, once in a while," he said.

I jumped in my skin.

I was startled, and awake. I was naked, and I had a pillow between my legs. I sat up and looked around. He wasn't here. I was drenched in sweat. Then I felt this cold loneliness creep over me. I guess I really do wish he would watch me sleep. I actually felt tears start, but I didn't go with them. It was a sharp feeling of emptiness.

I need to start getting a grip. I've got it bad, really bad. The dreams are great, but it's a bad sign to think about a boy this much. In my dreams, I have him, he's mine. In my dreams we have the understanding that we're TOGETHER. I don't even know that for sure, he's never said anything about a relationship or anything. We've never even seen each other except when it's necessary. Well, not necessary for him, a million times he could have just walked away and didn't, but I'm reading too much into this....or am I? I know he likes me, I know he wants me...but if he wants me so bad then where has he been all week? And why don't I ever see him unless there's a situation to deal with?