Willow yawned deeply and arched her back off the mattress, reminding Buffy of a cat she had owned for two weeks when she was five. Buffy rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with her curled fists in a childlike manner, sitting up reluctantly and surveying the room with half-closed eyes. Buffy let out a loud yawn and scowled at her friend from across the room.

"Damn you and your contagious yawns," she scolded Willow.

Willow's bright eyes flicked over towards her, and she grinned innocently. "Hey, it's not my fault, I just opened my mouth and -poof- there it was. Besides, I think it's unhealthy to keep those things in."

"This coming from the resident health expert," Buffy said with humour, pulling the comforter closer to her nightgown-clad body.

After a few minutes of sitting in her bed with the covers raised to her neck, Willow spoke up. "I think we should probably get up."

Buffy gave a small high-pitched girlish whine. "But it's Saturday," she moaned, pulling the sheets over her head, "It's too early to get up and I - I didn't sleep well and I think I'm coming down with something."

Willow gave a small snort. "I'm totally up with the bad sleep excuse, but Buffy, it's nearly noon." She paused and glanced over at the mess of springs and plastic on the floor. "If that alarm is any indication. Or, ex-alarm, rather."

Snuggling into her matress even harder, Buffy wished that she could just sink into the foam and springs and forget all about her troubles. Unfortunately for her, the dreams that had been plaguing her for the past few weeks would probably follow her to the ends of the earth, determined to get the point -whatever that point was- across to her. 'Damn dreams,' she thought, 'Damn prophetic Slayerness.'

"Buffy," Willow chided softly, and the Slayer pulled the covers back down, wincing at sudden flood of light greeting her eyes.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting up. See?" she said, pulling one leg from out of the bed and placing the foot gingerly on the floor.

"I meant up as in the general sense of up-ness. You know, usually involving getting out of bed?"

She groaned again, sincerely wishing that she was back at her Mom's house, where her only roommate was a bratty teenage sister that slept longer than she did. "You go, Willow," she said, sighing, "This doesn't really feel like and up kinda day."

"Well then it's a down kinda day," Willow pressed, "Meaning get your bad self, uh, down," she finished embarrassedly, "and outta bed."

"It's not a down kinda day, either," Buffy answered, "It's a 'comatose lie in bed all afternoon' kinda day. Besides, what would I do, besides tell Giles that I keep having the same boring nightmare? You can do that just fine . . . and you'd probably put it in better words, too."

"Fine then, don't get up. Let Riley fall for some other rough-and-tumble commando cutie. Just say I didn't warn you . . ." Willow ended with a grin.

Buffy rolled her eyes, shoving the sheets off the bed and dropping to her feet. "I've got no choice, do I?" she asked.

Willow smiled, mimicking her friend's actions. "Nope."

Both girls began to dress, choosing their clothing for the day carefully, wanting to look their best for their current romantic interests. Buffy found her mind wandering, and she couldn't help but bring her thoughts back to the dream that she had had the previous night. It felt like a Slayer dream, prophecies and all, but . . . more important, in a sense. She was positive that it must be, for she had been dreaming the same events over and over for weeks. 'Apocolypse big?' she wondered, frowning.

Yes, it was a prophecy, no doubt, but what kind? Whatever the dream meant, Spike was definitely involved . . . and that was never a good sign.

'Maybe it's an apocolypse, after all . . .'

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TBC . . .