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When the Morning Star Sings	By : LadyBold Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 3091 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS or BtVS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Chapter 7:

Wes exited the office, but noticed that Angel and Cordy had left the lobby. He knew he couldn't put this off, so he started toward the stairs, intending on finding them, and explaining everything. The sight of Gunn seated upon the couch playing another video game, halted his progress however. The darker man didn't seem to notice Wes, which gave the older man a chance to look at him closely.

For the past two weeks, Gunn had been successfully avoiding him. He missed the companionship of Gunn; it had been hard losing Fred to the younger man, but in the end he had accepted it, and moved beyond it, now however, it looked as if he was losing his friend, and that hurt a lot.

However, instead of confronting Gunn, Wes merely walked on, knowing his friend would come to him when he was ready. For now, Wes had more important things to worry about. Namely an apocalypse, and a strange prophesy that may or may not stop it. He hustled up the stairs, not noticing the look Gunn shot at him. But Lorne did. And so did Fred.

~@~@~@~

Upstairs:

Cordy and Angel had left the lobby once Wes had gone into his office. Knowing he could take awhile, and seeing that Connor was fast becoming cranky, the two paranormal investigators decided to join the toddler in a short nap. Within minutes the two were fast asleep, laying atop Angel's king sized bed, with Connor nestled between their bodies.

**Dream**

Cool hands, lips . . . kissing, caressing . . . grasping hands, wet mouths, clashing teeth. A flash of yell eye eyes . . . smooth chest, hard chest, soft touches, quick bites, soothed by a swift lick. Hips arched, mouths gasping, open in silent screams, pushed to the very edge . . . a sly grin, a flash of platinum locks . . .

**End Dream**

Angel shot upright, gasping for unneeded air, his body on fire. Glancing around he took stock of the lovely female body sleeping deeply in his bed, before taking in the time. 1:15pm. Only 15 minutes or so since they had come up and fallen asleep. Angel's head fell hard against his pillow, his arm going over his eyes as he sighed heavily. *WHAT THE FUCK! SPIKE?*

Meanwhile, Cordy slept on.

**Dream**

Softness, like silk . . . smooth and warm, pillowed in the warmth of arms . . . breathless, soft kisses, whispery breaths against nipples, long elegant fingers, touching, delving into softness, silky wet softness. A flash of pale flesh, a winsome grin, and flashing green eyes, silky copper-colored hair . . .

**End Dream**

"Oh GOD!' Cordy whispered into the darkened room. Her body hummed with tension, her body reacting instantly to the erotic and highly sensual dream. "Jesus CHRIST!"

"Cordy?" Angel asked the young woman lying beside him in the large bed. He had sensed her tension instantly, and became concerned, fearing another vision. However the next instant disproved the theory of a vision, as the scent of Cordy's desire and arousal floated into the room. He immediately guessed the cause.

"Dreaming?"

"Yeah, Angel . . ." Cordy sighed heavily. "We HAVE to figure out where these things are coming from! It's too . . . hard!"

"Yeah. I know."

~@~@~@~

90 miles North of L.A. on I-17 South:

Less than 15 minutes into the drive, Willow had given up on driving, knowing that she was simply too tired to continue. Dawn had enthusiastically taken the wheel, and now Willow sat in the passenger seat, watching the cars pass them by. Slowly her mind calmed to an almost trance-like state, listening to the steady thump-thump sound of the tires over the highway, and the faint sound of Dawn and Spike's music pouring from their respective headphones. Her body gave up the ghost and she slipped into dreamland.

**Dream**

Darkness enfolded her, save for a faint greenish light, coming from nowhere in particular. Its eerie glow creeped her out, it never wavered, or grew brighter or dimmer, just cast int int illumination over her body. Willow had tried to cast a spell to see further, but nothing seemed to work. Suddenly Willow had the uneasy feeling of being watched.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Uhm . . .Here?" Willow called out into the darkness. Not a thing could be heard. Yet Willow was positive that someone was out there, watching her.

A breath of sound - - Willow spun around, expecting to find someone there, but the space was empty. Again a whisper of a breath made Willow spin to see who stood behind her, but no one was there. Willow was becoming scared, and her voice shook as she called out to the unseen presence, "Who is there? What am I doing here? What's happening?"

She flung her hands out, trying to feel for the source of her uneasiness. Her hands connected to a solid surface, and she jerked back in surprise. The person who now stood before her grasped her hands, refusing to let them go. Willow tried to see who held her hands, but all she could see were the hands that held hers. The greenish light obviously wasn't going to extend itself to glow on this person.

Suddenly the hands released hers, and moved to hover over her back, and it was in that instant that Willow realized that she was unclothed, her body naked to the eye of this . . . presence. She moved her hands to cover herself, but the mysterious hands stopped her, and as if by magic, Willow was forced to lie down upon the floor, the force also keeping her immobile.

Those mysterious hands began a strange hovering dance over her flesh, never once touching her, yet she seemed to feel them over every inch of her flesh. Kneading, caressing, invading, never stopping their sensual dance inches above her flesh. Willow's defenses melted, as this mysterious presence brought ecstasy to her body, all without ever touching her.

Her legs were spread wide, her hair a halo about her, her skin flushed nearly as deep a crimson as her hair, and she panted breathlessly. The hands never stopped, and for the first time they began dipping down and caressing her flesh, bringing even more of the glorious sensations Willow reveled in. A light touch on her mouth, as if in a kiss, a soft stroke of fingers upon her stomach, a fluttery touch on her upper thigh, and then those delightful digits were invading her most secret places. Plunging into her body deeply, before retreating, only to repeat the motions time and again, never relenting. Stroking her internally, seeking out her most fervent responses.

Willow cried out, her voice raised in joyous release . . . her eyes open yet nearly unseeing. Finally able to move she reached out to grasp the hands that brought her to such a climax, the hands did not resist, and she pulled them close to her, entwining her fingers with them, sighing happily.

"Who?" Willow didn't elaborate, unable to make herself coherent. There was no response, nothing to indicate who had brought her such pleasure. Willow pulled herself to a sitting position, never relinquishing her hold on the hands of her mysterious lover. Pulling them to her body, she tackled the body she knew to be attached to them. And found she was staring into the liquid brown depths of Cordelia Chase's eyes.

**End Dream**

Willow rushed back to consciousness, her body jerking upright. Her sudden movements startled Dawn, the car swerving slightly in response. Dawn looked at Willow curiously, but Willow simply ignored the younger girl, staring out the window in disbelief.

*What the HELL? I mean - - I was questioning my own sexual orientation not two hours ago, cause I have feelings for Spike, and I mean I was having some weird thoughts about Cordelia in some of the other dreams . . . But still! * Willow babbled to herself. *How the HELL am I supposed to look at Cordelia in the face now? *

Meanwhile . . .

In the back-seat of the car, ensconced in the little tent of canvass he had set up for himself, Spike smelt the evidence of Red's desire, and knew that whatever she had just dreamt was on par with his own erotic coupling with his Grand-sire. Whatever else these dreams were meant to do, they were making the old feelings he had repressed for Angelus reemerge, in a vicious way. And having worked so hard to repress them, he was more than a little disconcerted with how easily the dreams were working to destroy his carefully built walls. And more than a little frustrated.

*The hell of it is that I would give anything to have that closeness back, but the grand-poof has destroyed that. He left us, me, when he got his soul the first time, and when he had lost it before, he ignored me in favor of destroying my relationship with Dru. He thought nothing of me, he didn't look my way in that special way at all, disregarded all our time together, all the years we spent killing, fucking, loving . . . Why the hell should I give a damn about him now? * But Spike didn't have the answer for that, and he was seriously afraid of what the answer might end up being.
- 6
- 7
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When the Morning Star Sings