Disclaimer- Joss Whedon owns all..most all.

Summary- Nightmares begin to plague Angel's sleep, but are they just nightmares? Or something more?

Rating- NC-17, unfortunately. It's gonna get ugly.

Time line- I've no clue.

Spoilers- None.

AN- It is based off of Rain; the characters, the setting. But, the rest of it is purely elsewhere. This has NOTHING to do with Rain, so anything you read here has no effect with what is going on there.

When the Sun Sleeps

Prologue

Europe: 1890

"Angelus," purred a soft voice from behind him. "Dig in. I picked them out especially for you."

He smirked at his sire and looked down at the children in front of him, huddled together, shaking in fear. Their parents were already dead in the next room, courtesy of Darla and Drusilla. They both wanted their childe's to feast and torture the babies. Angelus turned his attention to Spike, who was staring, fangs bared, at the little girl, who couldn't have been more then seven years old.

"Aye, William my boy. She'll be mine."

He glared at his sire, but let it go, since he knew it wouldn't do any good to fight him. Angelus smirked, and before he could make a movement, Darla grabbed his shirt from behind, and ripped it in two. He looked back at her and then at his shirt.

"Put on a good show for us, Darling boy."

His eyes shifted over to Drusilla, who was already naked and sitting by the fireplace; masturbating ferociously.

"She couldn't wait."

Darla giggled and walked over to the other female, intending on helping her once the show began. Angelus glanced over to Spike once more, knowing that he wasn't the only one in this so called show.

"Do you want'a start? Or shall I?"

"Oi, I think I will."

Angelus gave a nod and backed away, watching as Spike grabbed, what seemed to be the youngest boy out of the three children and tugged him away from the others. The oldest boy tried to get to them, but Angelus kept him back with a swift kick in the stomach. The fear and hatred in his eyes did not go unnoticed. Angelus drank it in happily.

Spike took the boy, who was about four or five, and took him to the center of the family room, where he had an extreme amount of space. He turned the crying boy away from him and tore his slacks from his body.

"Gonna be tough since we're both a dry as a bone."

Darla snickered softly as Drusilla continued, reaching her third climax.

"He's like his parents now."

Angelus smirked and continued to watch.

The little boys screams of pain and Spikes grunts of pleasure echoed in Angelus' ears, exciting him further.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Angel woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat. He laid in bed for a few moments, trying to calm himself down enough to realize that it was just a dream. There was no boy screaming, there was no boy screaming...

Not anymore.

Letting out a deep breath that he didn't need, he looked over at the right side of the bed, where his mate lay sleeping peacefully. He smiled softly and reached a hand over to stroke her hair. She crooned and smiled in her sleep, unconsciously moving closer to him. Gently, he kissed her forehead, and then quietly climbed out of bed.

The hotel was always quiet at nighttime, and that's what he absolutely loved about it. Taking in the sounds of silence, he made his way out of his and his mate's bedroom and down the hall, towards yet, another room. Opening the door to the brightly colored room, he tiptoed over to the turtle themed toddler bed and peeked in on his four year old daughter. He smiled softly seeing her sleeping form curled up around her mothers old pillow and surrounded by stuffed animals. Silently tucking her in, he kissed her goodnight, and once again headed out into the quiet hallways of the Hyperion.

There was no doubt that he needed some air. His recent nightmares were taking a toll on him, and everyone seemed to be noticing. Buffy was worried, Cordelia was worried in her own special way, and Lorne had even stopped calling him pastries; it was that serious. Sighing, he made his way downstairs and out by the gardens, where he usually went to clear his thoughts.

He looked up at the night sky and sighed. Why was he being plagued with nightmares now? Was it a sign of some kind? And if it was, couldn't have come in a slightly nicer form?

No, of course not. He had done those things, he didn't deserve anything less.

"Hey," a soft voice said from behind him.

He didn't need to turn around, he knew it was his blonde beauty–the one he didn't deserve.

"Are you okay?"

He let out a quiet puff of breath, like a huff, and closed his eyes tightly. He knew he wouldn't be able to get away with a lie, especially with her, so he had to just tell her flat out.

"No."

Finally! She breathed, relieved that he finally admitted he needed help. She had been trying to for the longest time to get him to admit that he wasn't okay, that he needed her, even if just to listen, but he just wouldn't come out and say it. He would just change the subject and she'd just let it drop.

"Tá eagla orm, Ionúin. Tá eagla orm."

Oh no. It sounded as if he was sobbing. His voice was cracking and his back was hunched up; she couldn't see his face. Not only that, but now, she didn't understand what he was saying. He had taught her some Gaelic, but this, he had not. The only word she understood was 'Ionúin' and that was how she knew he was talking to her, and not just talking to himself.

She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his back. She knew that now, above all else, he just needed her support. Whatever was going on with him, she knew was bad, so now all she could do was be there for him.

"Mo bhean chéile...a ghŕa..."

He sobbed, calling out for her as if she wasn't there. Or maybe he just wanted her to know that she was needed.

"I'm here, I'm here."

She whispered to him as she felt the hot tears start to pour down her face. She had never heard him in so much emotional pain, she didn't even know where to begin in helping him. She figured...from the start.

"Please, Angel, tell me what's wrong. Please?"

She was sobbing herself now, knowing that in this particular situation, she was completely helpless. She could feel him shaking his head in defiance, and she pressed her body closer to his, knowing he could feel her tears and her heartbeat; he'd feel how upset she was.

He didn't want to tell her about his current nightmares. Every night he'd relive a different part of that same night, and that was one night he wanted to forget and never wanted her to know. If she ever found out the things he did that night...god knows what she'd do to him.

"Please, please," she begged softly, her breath hitching as she cried out to him. "Please, M'fhear céile. Tá grá agam duit!"

At her trembling voice, she could feel his body relaxing–he was listening to her. She heard him take a few breaths, most likely just to calm down and clear his mind, and then felt him shake his head again.

"I can't, Buffy. I can't bring myself to tell you."

She felt defeated. If he didn't open up to her, she couldn't do anything.

"Baby, I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong. Please, don't push me away."

They waited in silence, neither of them having anything to say. She felt him moving under her arms, and heard another sigh.

"Suns coming up," he whispered, changing the subject swiftly.

She sighed to herself. She failed once again.

Sorry most of it is in Gaelic. I thought it would give an insight to just how connected Buffy and Angel became.

Tá eagla orm- I am afraid.

Ionúin - Beloved

Mo bhean chéile - My wife

A ghŕa - My love

M'fhear céile - My Husband

Tá grá agam duit - I love you