SPOILER WARNING: Everything up to Becoming.
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: This part happens roughly two and half years after Becoming. Melinda and I wrote this story in an alternating style. I wrote the odd numbered parts(past) and she wrote the even(present). Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy & Co. Joss Whedon and the WB do. No copyright infringement intended.

Angel fell to his knees, gripping his stomach. Pain. Intense waves of pain radiated from his center. He threw back his head, gasping for a breath he didn't need. The pain. It was ripping him apart. Angel doubled over, his eyes flooding with tears. As suddenly as the pain started, it vanished. Supporting himself with one hand, Angel took a second to gather himself. He didn't understand what was happening to him.

Angel's eyes focused on feet. Why was he on the floor? He pushed himself back up, seeking the owner of those feet. His love was standing over him, a sword in her hands. "Buffy?" he questioned, a sob escaping his lips. He focused on her face. She looked at him with eyes cold as steel. "What's going on?" he asked, bewildered. Buffy would know. She would explain everything to him.

Buffy looked down at him, bewildered. She didn't seem to recognize him, that confused him even more. Angel glanced around, then got to his feet. "Where are we?" he asked, searching her face. "I-I don't remember," he confessed. Could it be that she didn't remember either? Angel felt that something was terribly wrong. He wracked his brain, desperately trying to recall what had happened.

Buffy lowered the sword, her eyes losing their hardness. "Angel?" she stated softly, her voice rife with disbelief. She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his face.

Confused, Angel watched as Buffy finally lowered her weapon. His gaze was drawn to a cut on her arm. Had they been in a fight? "You're hurt," he said, gently taking her arm in his hand. Much to his relief, she wasn't hurt badly. The cut was only superficial. Angel gathered Buffy against him, embracing her tightly. She was safe.

"Oh, Buffy... God," he breathed the words. "I... I feel like I haven't seen you in months." Buffy sighed and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, my God. Everything's so muddled. I..." Angel murmured, pulling her closer.

He didn't understand, but as long as they had each other it didn't matter. She was his life. Angel squeezed her harder, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. "Oh, Buffy..." he breathed softly. She returned his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. Why couldn't he remember?

Buffy stepped back, slipping from his arms. Angel let her go. "What's happening?" he asked, frightened by her sudden withdrawal.

She pressed her fingers to his lips. "Shhh. Don't worry about it," she said gently. Her fingers moved to brush his cheek. Angel closed his eyes as she kissed him softly. He returned her kiss, deepening it. His eyes popped open when she pulled back again. She looked up at him, her eyes piercing his.

"I love you," she whispered, her eyes shining with tears.

"I love you," he whispered back, his heart in his eyes.

Buffy touched her fingers to his lips again. Her touch was gentle and loving. "Close your eyes," she instructed, nodding reassuringly.

Angel closed his eyes as she bid. He felt her fingers lift from his face, her presence draw away from him. What was she doing? His curiosity was ripped in two by a searing pain in his chest. Angel's eyes popped open, surprise chiseled on his face. He reached for her, but his eyes were drawn down to a glowing sword protruding from his chest. The same sword she'd been holding.

Why? His shock and anguish at her betrayal hurt beyond belief; he barely even felt the sword. He didn't understand. Angel looked up at Buffy, his eyes imploring her to help him. She stood transfixed, her eyes never leaving the sword. Why had she done this to him?

"Buffy..." he gasped, reaching for her. He felt a force pulling him, taking him away from his love. As he felt himself tear away from her, Angel opened his mouth and screamed...

Abruptly, everything shifted and Angel found himself back in Hell. The nightmare began again, for the thousandth time...

Pain... He closed his eyes, fighting the pain. Black, evil, feral beasts held him to the ground. Like bits of shadow they blended in with the eternal darkness, their glowing eyes the only things he could make out. They held him still. Their razor sharp claws digging into his flesh like meat hooks. He gritted his teeth against the pain as they ripped into his flesh. Screaming didn't help; It only amused them more and made them crueler.

A large form, glowing with a faint red light, stepped out of the impenetrable darkness. The form of a grotesque demon moved to stand over him. Its red glow illuminating the twisted visages of the beasts that held him.

"Acathla," Angel mouthed, staring up at the demon as it squatted over him. It reached out one enormous clawed hand. With the tenderness of a lover, it caressed Angel's face. He shuddered under its gentle touch.

"You failed me," Acathla accused. Its voice was a horrific combination of grating gravel and the tortured sound of twisted metal. Angel shook, partly from reaction to that voice, partly from fear. He knew what was coming next. It was his eternal hell... Every day they tortured him, left him bleeding and dying. He would fall into a fevered sleep, praying for death. Death never came. When he awoke, he was whole. Untouched. Unmarked. He tried to escape, running blindly through the darkness. No matter how fast or how far he ran, they always found him...

"The price of failure is eternal!" the demon roared. Its clawed hand slowly trailed down his chest to rest over his stomach. Angel tensed. Every muscle in his body straining to break free from his captors. They were always stronger than him. "You..." the demon hissed, its nails digging into the soft flesh over his stomach. Angel ground his teeth together, determined not to give the demon the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Dark red blood welled up, coating the claws. "Failed..." The demon's claws ripped downward, slicing through his flesh like a knife through hot butter. The force lifted his body off the ground. Unable to hold it in anymore, he screamed...

Angel sat bolt upright in bed. His own terrified scream filled his ears. Head back, Angel howled with remembered pain. His mind was still caught in the nightmare, held thrall in its terror. Like a helpless fly in a sticky web, he thrashed, struggling to get free from his dreams. Gentle hands held his face. A soft voice, barely heard over his terrified scream, insinuated itself into his mind.

"Angel, it's just a nightmare," Willow said, reassuring him. She cradled his face in her small hands, hoping her touch would calm him. Gently she turned him to face her. Abruptly, his scream stopped and he blinked. The dim glow from a night light, illuminated his face. He stared back at her, confused. "Angel, it's just a dream..." she said, her voice soothing and calm.

"I failed," he whispered, the demon's words echoing through his mind. Failed... That was the key that unlocked the memories he hadn't been able to recall. Memories of Angelus flooded his mind. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide, shining with new terror. "Oh God, Willow," Angel sobbed, his hands coming up to cover his face. "BUFFY," he howled into his hands. Angel sagged, falling toward her. Willow caught him, cradling him in her arms. He curled against her like a small, frightened boy. "What have I done?" he sobbed wretchedly.

"I didn't want to hurt her," he stated, turning to look up at her. "I didn't want to hurt anyone," he confessed, tears ran in crystalline rivers down his cheeks. Willow coaxed him to lay his head back down. She stroked his dark hair and pulled him closer. "I remember-" his voice faltered and he began to tremble under her hands. "I remember everything," he managed to spit out this time.

"Shhh," Willow shushed him, stroking his hair. "Everything will be all right."

Angel stiffened in her arms. "No it won't," he contested, almost growling. "After what I've done. It will never be all right." He tried to pull away from her, but she held him firmly. She struggled to hold up his weight, but he was too heavy. Carefully, Willow scooted behind him. She pulled him against her as she leaned on the headboard. Angel stopped fighting and went into her arms, curling against her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his head against her stomach.

"She must hate me," he sobbed. "I tried to kill her. I killed so many..." His words broke down into unintelligible gibberish as he bawled. Willow caught some of his words as he confessed all his crimes. Eventually, he quieted, crying silently in her arms. Suddenly he looked up at her. "I'm s-sorry, W-Willow," he said brokenly. "I tried to kill you too..."

He had gleefully tormented all of them. He remembered the feel of his hands wrapped around Willow's throat. The feeling of her body shaking in fear. The exhilarating rush when he inhaled the scent of her terror. He remembered his own glee when he held her, knowing that he had no intention of letting her live. He remembered being a killer and loving it.

Angel curled up, retreating from her embrace. "Why?" he screamed, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "Why did you bring me out of Hell after all I did?" He wrenched himself away from her, throwing himself toward the end of the bed. Willow scrambled after him, fearing he would fall. Angel collapsed, face down on the bed. He was too weak to go farther.

Willow knelt behind him, watching him as he cried. Gently she touched his shoulder, softly stroking over the healing bruises. Angel tried to shrug her hand off, but he was too weak. "Don't touch me," he snarled. "I wanted to kill you..." he sobbed, trying to crawl away. "I'm a monster."

Willow reached down, her body covering his. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him down. One around his chest the other around his neck, forcing contact. He needed comfort and reassurance. Angel tried to pull her hands off, but was too upset to dislodge her hold. "I'm not letting you go," she breathed softly in his ear. He continued to struggle, but she held him easily.

"Don't you get it?" he demanded. He scrubbed at his eyes with one hand. "I tried to kill you."

"Angel you didn't try to kill me," she said calmly, her hold on him loosening as he stopped fighting her. "That was the demon," she informed him. "Not you... Angelus." Her tone implied that her words were the only truth. One hand moved to gently stroke his dark head.

Angelus... That name brought with it a flood of memories, he didn't want to remember. He didn't want to feel. All his memories led to Buffy and how he'd hurt her, how he'd been obsessed with destroying her. Buffy... Angel shook his head, trying to clear it of the images of the beautiful Slayer. She haunted his dreams, his every waking moment.

Angel was quiet for a long moment, when he spoke Willow could hardly hear him. "I don't want to live without her," he whispered. He curled up, his anguish a physical pain. "Buffy... I drove her away didn't I?" he asked, his voice trembling. "That's why she's not here, 'cause she hates me."

"Shhh," Willow soothed him. "That's not why she left." Her hand stroked his cheek, wiping away tears. "But, now that you're back, she'll return," she stated firmly.

Willow lay behind Angel, leaning against his back. Neither spoke into the quiet. Both were lost in their own thoughts. She stroked his head, like a mother comforting her child. Her gentle touch lulled him. He felt his eyelids slide shut as sleep threatened to overtake him. Suddenly, he struggled upright, pulling free of Willow's grasp.

Willow watched him closely, but he didn't try to get off the bed. "You should get some sleep," she said softly, rising from the bed. Absently, Willow wished that her lover was here. He'd had to go away on business and she missed him desperately. She needed his strength now more than ever.

Angel turned, his hand snaking out to grab her arm. Willow stopped, tethered by his surprisingly strong grip. She looked down at him, searching for an explanation. "I-" he stammered, struggling for words. "Don't go... Please," he asked gently. "I don't want... the nightmares..." he mumbled. He let go of her arm, his hand falling to the bed. He didn't want to sleep, that's when the nightmares came.

Willow settled gingerly on the edge of the bed. "Why don't you lay back down?" she suggested, smiling down at him with understanding and compassion . "And I'll tell you what's been happening while you were gone." Willow understood his need to escape the nightmares.

Angel hesitated before sinking wearily onto the bed. Once he was situated, Willow settled down next to him, leaning back against the headboard. "Where should I start?" she asked thoughtfully, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

Angel turned to look up at her. "Willow?" he asked. She looked down at him, her eyebrows raised in silent query. "Where is everyone?" He needed to know. He felt responsible for driving them all apart. Angel saw a deep sadness in Willow's eyes when she looked back up.

"Giles is here," she informed him, her hand rubbed absently at his shoulder. "He's been helping me while Whistler's away."

Angel started to sit up, struggling to turn and face her. Her hand clamped down on his shoulder and held him down. "Whistler?" he asked, twisting to face her. "He's here?"

"He won't be back for a week or two..." she offered helpfully. "Why?" Angel gave her an indecipherable look, then turned away without answering. Why was Whistler here? "Whistler is the one who taught me how to bring you back," she stated, watching him curiously.

Angel's head whipped back toward her. "What?" he mouthed, his eyes wide. Whistler had taught Willow?

"Let me start from the beginning," Willow began, crossing her arms.

CONTINUE