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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy & Co. Joss Whedon and the WB do. No copyright infringement intended. Note: Text enclosed in < > represents thoughts or feelings.

By: Lil-Wolf

<What does he mean, how did I know his middle name?>

Willow froze, unsure of how to answer Angel's question, or even if she should. She hadn't know that Angel could hear her and Buffy downstairs. She'd thought that those dreams were nothing more than just that, dreams. She'd believed that her subconscious conjured her dream-Angel companion up as a way of dealing with the fear and loneliness. Now, it seemed that they might not be 'just dreams' after all.

"Kieran is my middle name," Angel asserted, in case she hadn't understood him. Willow seemed dazed and he began to grow concerned. Maybe he shouldn't have been so blunt.

<Kieran really is his real middle name?!> Willow blanched at the implications, her concern for his well-being became momentarily forgotten in her confusion. Dream fragments flashed through her head. She considered Angel speculatively, her eyes widening comically. <Omigod!> Her lips rounded with dismay. <We dream 'did it'!> Shy, little Willow, who couldn't even talk to an ordinary boy, clearly remembered being with this gorgeous man. Willow paled even more. This gorgeous man who was Buffy's boyfriend... <Ex-boyfriend...> Her mind amended defensively. <She doesn't want him anymore so technically speaking, he's fair game.> Her mind turned in tight confused circles as she struggled for understanding.

"You could hear us talking downstairs?" she asked, stalling. Her mind searched frantically for an explanation or escape. Angel nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. He waited patiently for her to answer his question. Willow chewed her lip as she struggled to gather her thoughts. <Buffy didn't know... Oh God... He heard everything Buffy said...> The idea that her dreams had some truth to them took a back seat to her renewed concern for Angel's emotional state.

"Oh Angel," she sighed. Her hands raised beseechingly. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that." Angel's brow scrunched in confusion. Why would she be sorry that he found out that she knew his middle name?

"I had no idea that you were still here," she assured him. Inside, Willow felt guilty for the pain Angel must feel after overhearing Buffy's confession. She knew it hurt him hear Buffy renounce their love. She had seen his tears when she came in the room. "I tried to stop her from coming upstairs..." Willow explained, her voice trailing off uncertainly.

Angel's face twisted into a pained grimace at the reminder of his ex-girlfriend. The muscles in his jaw clenched as he looked away, renewed guilt washed over him. He swallowed hard before looking at her again. Willow stepped closer to the bed, instinctively wanting to offer comfort. "I cut myself on the broken vase. She insisted on cleaning it for me," she informed him, brandishing her bandaged hand at him.

Angel held out his hand in an unspoken request to see her injury. Obediently, Willow stepped over to the bed, her hand held out in front of her. Angel took it, gently clasping her fingers. She sat down, allowing him a closer look. With a slow twist of his wrist, he turned her hand over. Absently, his fingers brushed her palm, feathering a touch over the gauze that covered the wound.

"Everything Buffy said," he remarked, his attention focused on her hand. "Everything she said, I was expecting," Angel uttered the words with the finality of a dying breath. Lightly, he traced the edge of the bandage with his index finger. Willow watched his finger brush over the white gauze. She waited to hear what he had to say. Suddenly, his head snapped up, drawing hers up in response. Dark brown eyes pierced hers, eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul. She found herself unable to look away.

Willow started to pull her hand back, but Angel tightened his grip, keeping her hand immobile. She could see pain and guilt reflected in his eyes. Her heart ached in sympathy. She wanted to make that heart-rending pain go away. Her hand, still held firmly in his, squeezed gently. "Angel," she uttered forcefully, willing him to believe with the power of her words. "I'm sure she didn't mean--"

"Willow!" he interrupted, scolding her with the word. Willow's mouth snapped shut, but her eyes continued to burn with the fervent light of belief. Angel looked away, unable to meet the honest belief he saw in her eyes. Willow actually thought everything would work out, that everything would be all right. He wished for some of her innocent naivet&eacute;. To be able to believe that things could work out, that feelings would overcome the cold, hard facts of reality. Angel raised his eyes to meet hers. He saw hope shining in those hazel orbs. He felt his heart wanting to believe, but his head said no. Angel accepted that he couldn't have the Slayer back.

"Willow," he said more softly, his attention back on her hand. "Buffy was right," he told her, his thumb gently rubbed her fingers. "We can't go back now. Things can never be the same." Angel looked up, his eyes denying her hope. His words destroyed her fairytale world where happy endings were a given and the good guys always won. Those words crushed her reality, letting in the harsh truth.

Willow admitted to herself that he was probably right. She had seen the same determination in the Slayer's eyes. If he didn't believe either, then neither of them would try. Part of her felt guilty for inflicting another emotional wound on Angel. She had believed that the part of Buffy that had loved him would be strong enough to forgive him or, at least keep loving him. His demon had been very thorough in its methodical destruction of their love.

Angel's fingers brushed her cheek, drawing her out of her thoughts. She glanced up at him. "It's not your fault," he stated as if he knew what she was thinking. Willow shrugged diffidently, dismissing his reassurances. Angel sighed softly. He dropped her hand and pulled her roughly into his embrace. She found herself crushed against him, her cheek pressed firmly against the smoothness of his chest. Willow held herself stiffly, surprised to find herself in this position. Angel held her tightly, one hand buried in her hair. "You can't fix everything," he murmured softly.

The evening's activities came back to her in a surreal tornado of emotion. The comforting sound of Angel's voice filling her ears and his fingers gently kneading her neck pushed her over that line between dream and reality. Seeking refuge, her mind eagerly accepted this Angel as her dream confidante. Willow relaxed, her hands sliding around to his back. She melted against him, forgetting that he wasn't the Angel of her dreams. Eyes closed, she affectionately snuggled against him.

Angel wanted her to understand. He also wanted to protect her from the ugliness of the truth, from the ugliness in himself. He stared down at the red head, a mixture of childlike innocence and incredible wisdom. Willow the constant. Willow the steady. Willow the hopeless dreamer... Angel smirked. Willow the devious... She had avoided his question by turning his focus to Buffy.

He bent his head down, his lips almost brushing her ear. "You never did answer my question," he declared. His voice held a tiny note of accusation.

Willow tipped her head back to look up at him. "What question?" she asked.

Angel studied her face. He saw no deception, no guilt. He frowned, feeling like a heel again. Willow hadn't tried to mislead him. She was genuinely concerned and probably didn't realize that she had ignored his question. He was reading something into her actions that wasn't there. His own dark side tainted his perceptions. "You never told me how you knew my middle name," he stated softly.

Willow's brow furrowed in confusion. She stared back at him, blinking rapidly. "You told me," she said succinctly. Her tone implied that she thought he ought to know the answer.

Now Angel was confused. He didn't remember telling any of them any personal information about himself, not even Buffy. He looked at her, his head cocked like a curious puppy. "I told you?" he questioned.

Willow nodded. "You told me," she replied, smiling gently. "Angelus Kieran McCrae at your service, M'Lady," she drawled, imitating his deeper voice in a passable Irish brogue. Her lips quirked into a good imitation of his 'patented' Cryptic Guy smirk.

Angel froze, staring intently down at her.

"What?" Willow asked, her smile fading. Had she done something wrong?

Angel's hold on her loosened suddenly and he scooted away from her. His abrupt retreat made her loose her balance. Willow floundered, her arms flailing as she fought to keep upright. Angel stood, backing up a step, his eyes never left hers. Willow watched him retreat. She struggled to understand what she said that had upset him.

"That's not possible," Angel whispered raggedly. He stared at her with bug-eyed disbelief. He had expected her to say from Giles, or perhaps from reading an old Watcher journal, but not from him.

Willow stared blankly at him, puzzling over his strange reaction. <Why is he acting so surprised?> She looked at him, trying to fathom his thoughts. Suddenly everything clicked together in her head. This really was the Angel in her dreams... only it wasn't a dream anymore. Willow's jaw dropped and her hand flew to her mouth. A red flush started at her hairline and settled over her like a hood. <Omigod!>

Angel stared down at her, his face an unreadable mask. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to push out any sound. His hand waved in a futile gesture of frustration.

"Oh, wow..." Willow murmured, absently. She swallowed, her throat constricting painfully. His eyes bored into her. Willow tried to speak, but her mouth felt dry as a desert. She licked her lips and tried again. "That really is your middle name?" she asked weakly, still unable to believe. Angel nodded once, slowly and deliberately.

Willow looked away, her face heating up as she blushed an even deeper shade of crimson. She gave one deep gasping breath and then spoke, "Those w-were more th-than just ordinary d-dreams?" she asked nervously. <What is wrong with me that I can't tell the difference between dreams and reality??>

Angel nodded. "I think so," he added, his eyes never leaving her face.

Her mind switched gears, shifting to her previous extreme embarrassment over his knowing about the contents of her dreams. Willow's head fell forward, her chin resting on her chest, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she withdrew physically. Their mutual revelation left her feeling extremely exposed and vulnerable. Her gaze wandered as she looked at everything except Angel, trying to recapture her emotional balance. Random images flashed through her mind as her emotions spun out of control. Her mind refused to focus on a coherent thought.

Angel stood watching Willow as he tried to make the mental adjustments needed to deal with this. He remembered the dreams very clearly, but had not considered that they might be more than they seemed. They did stand out in his mind as clearer than normal, but he attributed their clarity to the unusual circumstance of his soul being free.

Angel could see Willow's discomfort and unease. He suddenly realized that she might not have wanted to remember the dreams, that she might think he had forced himself on her. Angel felt new guilt well up. Willow might not even feel that way about him. His question had opened a can of worms that neither of them was ready to deal with.

"Maybe I should go. We can talk another time," Angel said softly. "I don't think either of us is ready to deal with this yet." He turned and walked toward the door leading to the balcony outside her room.

<NO!> Willow wasn't done. They still had things to discuss. Quickly she reined in her personal distress, admonishing herself to act like an adult. "You don't have to go, Angel," Willow said quickly. He turned to her, but she still couldn't look him in the eye. <Well, almost like an adult.> She waved her hands in mute frustration as she searched for the words to explain. Willow finally managed to look him in the eye. "I just wasn't expecting... well, you know."

Willow found she wasn't sure what to think or feel. After her initial embarrassment passed, her logical mind said that it wasn't possible for Angel to have been in her dreams. But then how did she know his real name? <But we are on top of the Hellmouth... Anything is possible.> The memory was so clear in her mind. Part of her felt she should be extremely embarrassed, but another part of her wanted desperately to know how and why it happened. Was this the same Angel? The Angel she trusted. The Angel she knew so well... Angel her lover. She looked up at him.

Angel glanced away. He swallowed several times before looking at her again. Willow studied his face, searching. He suddenly looked frightened. "Is there something else?" she asked gently, sensing he wanted to say something. <Please don't let him say it was a mistake.> He started to speak, but hesitated. She saw panic in his eyes. "Angel, why do you look like you want to run away?" Her voice was almost pleading. Willow knew he was going to tell her it had all been wrong.

Angel continued to watch her, his hand scrubbing absently over his uninjured cheek. "Willow, I don't want you to be afraid of me," he stated finally. His reply, full of anguish, was torn from his soul.

The words she expected didn't come. What he did say didn't register right away. <Fear him?> Willow looked at him curiously, his words echoing in her head. "Why would I?" she asked, her voice conveying her extreme confusion.

Angel closed his eyes and forced himself to regain his composure. "Because of what happened in those dreams," he said morosely.

Willow stared blankly at him; Her mind failing to register the meaning of what he'd said. <What happened?> She dredged her mind looking for an explanation. In a flash of insight, everything fell into place. <He's worried what *I'll* think about the dreams? Geez. I was worried about what he would think! ...Where does that leave us now?> Willow stared at the floor, trying to work everything out in her mind.

Angel waited for the regrets, the words denouncing everything as a big mistake. They never came. Willow wasn't going to brand him a womanizing cad. He interpreted her silence as encouragement and used the lull to explain how he felt about the dreams, moving to sit next to her on the bed.

"Willow?" She became vaguely aware that Angel was calling her name. "Willow, look at me," he commanded gently. She lifted her head to look at him. He had to know that things were all right between them.

When he was sure he had her attention, Angel tried to explain. "I think I understand what happened," he began. "This time when my soul wasn't with my body it was different than before. I wasn't just 'not there', I was aware. I could sense some of you, Buffy and you, Willow." He swallowed thickly and continued, determined to tell her everything. "Buffy was just sort of nebulous, like a vague thought, but you...Willow, your mind was as clear as a bell," he said firmly, wanting her to believe what he said. "I tried to reach Buffy, but she wouldn't let me in..." he said thoughtfully. Angel looked up, his eyes serious. "I think you drew me into your dreams."

Willow stared at him. She tried to absorb what he was saying. She couldn't believe what he was telling her. <I drew him in?> Angel reached for her and she flinched away from his touch. He pulled his hand back, hurt evident in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me... before?" she asked. Her voice trembled. A lone tear slid slowly down her cheek. She was embarrassed and confused. Angel caught himself starting to reach for her again, to comfort her, but he knew she'd not allow him to touch her right now.

"I'm sorry." He looked away from her. "When I asked how you knew my middle name, I thought you would tell me Giles told you or that you read it in an old Watcher diary." She could see the muscles in his jaw straining as he ground his teeth together. "I'm very sorry," he admitted, turning to meet her eyes again. "I didn't know it was real." He saw uncertainty and disbelief on her face. Doubt flickered in her eyes.

Determined to tell her everything he pushed on. "Willow, I would have gone insane in that nothingness if I hadn't your mind's touch." Angel paused to let her consider his words. "I know this sounds insane, but I know what I experienced and what I felt." He searched her face for signs of understanding.

She was only half-listening to him. She heard his words and the plea in his voice, but her own emotions were overwhelming her ability to think straight. <He not only knows about the dreams - he was part of them.> She looked at him sharply and blushed as she remembered the most recent dreams. "I'm sorry you got sucked into my dreams," she apologized, covering her eyes as she fought tears of embarrassment and frustration. "I guess neither of us had any control over it."

It was Angel's turn to stare at Willow as he tried to interpret the meaning behind her words. She wasn't mad at him. She didn't think him a lecherous old man. Willow was afraid he would think it was her fault, that she had seduced him. "No, Willow. No. It was never like that. Damn it!" he said fiercely. Willow flinched. Angel tried to make eye contact, but Willow kept turning away. Exasperated, he captured her hand, drawing it away from her face. "I would never intentionally keep this from you. I owe you so much..."

Angel's fingers gently captured Willow's chin, drawing her eyes around to meet his. "Willow, you have to understand. It was selfish of me, but I didn't want to be alone... I was afraid..." he asserted firmly. Her eyes sparkled with the beginnings of understanding. "I don't want you to think I used you. At the time, I didn't even know that it was real..."

Angel released her chin, his fingers moving to trace her cheek. "Everything I told you was true," he said gently. "I think we should talk about it, but we don't have to right now if you're not ready," he spoke the words from his heart, soothing her uncertainty. "Okay?" he asked tentatively. With one word, Angel asked every question he needed answered. Was she okay now? Did she agree about the dreams? Angel held his breath, literally, as he waited for her to answer.

Willow nodded, a shy smile flirting at the corners of her mouth. Her answer was simple and as all encompassing as his question. Angel smiled with relief and pulled her against him. Willow went willingly into his arms. He wouldn't push her to talk about it. It was enough to know that she was still his friend.

Willow shifted, but didn't pull away. "Will it still happen?" she asked cautiously.

Angel shook his head. "No, I don't think so, but I think it has something to do with my feeling of being drawn to you," he said, waiting expectantly. Willow didn't ask the questions that were on both their minds. What did he mean by 'being drawn to her' and why was it happening. She wanted to ask, but first she wanted to digest all the other information. Her curious mind entertained the idea of duplicating the experience.

"Um..." Willow finally broke his embrace, looking at the floor. She felt like she needed to escape for a bit to get her head straight. "I think I'm going to get a drink. Would you like anything?" she asked, her eyes darting to his, but not lingering.

"No thank you," he said, shaking his head. He smiled gently when she glanced at him, offering understanding for her need for space. He would be patient and wait until she was ready.

"I'll be right back," she said softly. She met his gaze and he nodded. Willow could feel his eyes on her as she walked to the door. Things were getting very complicated.

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