…

He was in the cave again, the rumbling was deafening as the cavern's stone walls were wretched and split from the tremors shaking up from the birthing Hellmouth. The ground was warping, chunks falling away in huge sections, being swallowed by the molten rock bubbling and turning below.

Hell itself in all it's raging glory.

It was a sight he not only read about as a young catholic boy, but had experienced personally.

It wasn't a memory he treasured.

The stench of sulfur was burning his nose, the constant sting making his eyes water. The wetness was an equal mix of good and bad. The good being his tears were helping wash some of the debris out of his burning eyes, but the bad being the wetness made even more of the dust stick to his face, especially around his constantly blinking lids.

His mouth was parched and lips were cracking, as if he's spent the last week chewing cotton balls. The taste of blood lingered whenever he tried to lick his lips, the broken skin rubbing against an equally dry tongue.

His throat was aching, every time he swallowed; it aggravated the bruised flesh around his trachea, where the stone demon's hands had dug in mercilessly. Not that swallowing helped; he had no spit to lubricate the motion, adding further unease.

Out of the chaos surrounding him, a sound pierced his senses like a knife, a voice. 'Buffy'

She was yelling out his name, a desperate tone that retched at his heart. He could hear the fear, anger and worry all mixing within the decibels of her tone.

He opened his mouth to call back, but soon discovered that wasn't a viable option, his voice wouldn't come.

Gritting his teeth, he listened hard and moved as fast as he could towards the sound, constantly praying she kept calling out so he could pinpoint her location. Once he was close enough, her heartbeat became a homing beacon, the fast rhythm drumming out a Morse code message directly to his brain, saying 'come to me'.

After what felt like hours, he was close enough to see her ghostly form moving just out of reach, the thick dust filling the cavern casting a Buffy sized silhouette before him.

Just before he reached out to grasp her hand, a powerful shock rolled the ground from under them, loosening the section Buffy was standing on.

He heard her scream echoing in his mind as he rushed forwards, reaching out to grasp for her before she could fall.

His hand closed on empty air.

Another scream, this one far away, too far, and it cut out as if a door had slammed shut.

'No'. He thought numbly, crawling forwards on his belly since he'd tripped over an up jutting rock when he'd dove for her hand and fallen to the rough ground.

His face burned as he forced himself to look down over the edge, where the floor Buffy had been standing a second before had been. Magma bubbled up from a few hundred feet below, the bright orange glow blinding in the dark cave. A chunk of the fallen floor was sinking into the liquid rock.

He tore his eyes off the mesmerizing kaleidoscope of yellows, oranges and reds mixing below and listened for signs of Buffy moving around on the remaining ledge.

He heard nothing, nothing save for the constant grind of stone and earth as the forces below fought for life.

'No.' He thought again, his mind refused to believe she could have fallen, that the last scream he'd heard… 'No.'

Then it hit him, he'd failed to catch her, she had fallen, his Buffy was dead.

"NO!" Angel sat up as a raw scream tore from his throat.

The darkness was suffocating, pulling and tugging at his mind as the nightmare consumed him.

Buffy was gone, he'd failed, he'd lost her. His hands reached out but clutched nothing but empty space.

He tried to stand, but his legs were numb with horror, pins and needles washed over his nerves, weakening him and making his movements clumsy and stuttered.

He fell to the floor, barely able to move on his hands and knees, crawling, searching for his wife.

His blind eyes darted around frantically, his nose and ears straining to detect anything outside of the void his world had become.

'Katie' The thought entered his mind and he looked up, the Hellmouth Guardians were holding her above the pulsing hole in the ground, her blood and soul to be consumed to create the seal.

"No!" He yelled out, but it was too late, the knife had already pierced her as she'd yelled for her Daddy to save her. Her blood dripped down from her small form, the toddler's life fluid mixing with another's, a previously sacrificed child….a little blond boy with wide glazed hazel-green eyes.

Hitting the wall, he collapsed against it as the images in his mind assaulted him; his beautiful, strong Buffy, swallowed by the liquid rock. His children sacrificed to the darkness.

They'd been yelling to him for help, but he'd unable to move fast enough.

They were gone.

He was alone.

He was useless.

He was a failure.

They were gone.

"No!" He screamed against the visions, but his voice caught in his throat, choking off much of his needed breath.

His heart was pounding, slamming against his ribs in a painful uneven rhythm, unable to compensate for the rush of grief and horror.

…

"Angel!" Buffy yelled as she ran out of Katie's room, the little girl still clutched at her chest, and ran down the hall to the master bedroom.

Bursting inside and flipping on the light switch, she stopped cold. Her gut clenched painfully at the image of her lover balled against the bedroom wall, panting and shaking, his face once against bright red with blood.

Quickly she lowered her daughter to the floor, unwilling to let the little girl see her father in such a condition.

Normally, Buffy wouldn't have thought twice about the kids helping her with Angel, but under uncertain circumstances such as this, Buffy knew his mind might not be fully accessible, she worried he might lash out on accident and the little ones could get hurt.

"Wait here." Buffy spoke quickly, placing Katie just outside the room and rushing to grab a wet facecloth as she had before.

It the two seconds it took her to find and wet a cloth, she exited the bathroom and found herself watching in slow motion as Katie, completely ignoring her, walked directly up to a writhing with nightmare Angel.

"No!" Buffy snapped out of fright, terrified in his obviously panicked state, Angel would hurt their daughter.

"Daddy?" Katie placed her hands on Angel's right shoulder, wanting to comfort her daddy. He was very scared and she wanted to help him be not scared like he always did for her.

At the contact, he jumped; a startled gasp escaped his tight throat.

This close, she could see he was shaking badly, his breaths coming in short strained gasps, blood seeped into his grey wife beater as it flowed freely down his cheeks and chin from eyes, nose and ears.

"It's OK daddy, I'm here." She spoke like he would to her and crawled against him, wrapping her small arms around his neck and hugging him close.

Buffy was beside them in an instant, her eyes wide as she watched his every move like a hawk.

He was borderline convulsing, his lips were tinted blue due to his breaths coming and going in such small rapid gasps he wasn't absorbing enough oxygen. His red streaming wide open eyes were staring blankly ahead, his body stiff and rigid even as Katie held him, like he didn't even know she was there.

He was seeing something, but it wasn't something visual outside of his mind, and it was terrifying him. To be honest, she really thought he was going to have a heart attack right there on their bedroom floor.

"Angel?" She whispered, knowing he couldn't hear but unable to stop herself, and knelt beside him. She knew if she didn't calm him down fast, he'd pass out really soon from lack of oxygen, and worse from there.

Seeing he was fixed in place and wasn't going to attack Katie, she pulled him into her arms, laying his head and shoulders against her chest as Katie moved to hug around his waist.

He was shaking in her arms, she could feel his tense muscles as he fought with whatever was playing out in his mind. She gently ran the cloth along his face to duly try to rouse him with the cool water and keep him from bleeding on their daughter. It only took a few moments, and when the worst of the blood was gone, he still hadn't shown any signs of being conscious of them touching him.

She ran her hands along his jaw and her fingers combed through his hair, moving her thumb to all the key places that usually made Angel melt in her hands in an effort to reach him, to calm him and get him breathing deeper.

Yelling at him would only fall on deaf ears.

As her fingers brushed his pulse, she couldn't help but grimace at how fast it was. 'It's not working, he's too far away.' The thought teased at her from the bowels of her subconscious, 'He's really is going to have a heart attack right here in front of me.'

His skin was cold and clammy yet still sweating profusely, his breathing hadn't improved much and the blue tint was darkening on his lips, his eyes were beginning to cloud as unconsciousness threatened to snare him into its grimy claws.

'No, you're not.' Buffy thought to herself as she grabbed his face and slammed her lips against his. She figured she'd try a positive approach before she slapped him hard across the face to snap him out of it, which if kissing didn't work, would be happening next. When it came to keeping her husband alive, there were no limits to what she would do.

Nothing. No response from him at all.

'Shit, I'm going to have to slap him...and what if that doesn't work?' She thought desperately, but then, his lips moved slightly.

Quickly she pulled back and looked deep into his eyes, searching for a sign he was coming around. When she witnessed nothing tangible, she leaned back down and kissed him again. This time she knew she felt him respond. It was hard to tell at first, because he was still shaking and panting, but she was reaching him.

"Daddy?" Liam spoke from the doorway of his parent's bedroom, watching his mother and sister holding his father.

Buffy broke the kiss and risked looking up as the little boy walked over, his hazel-green eyes wide with a fear of their own.

Without a word, he walked over to them and curled up beside his sister, rubbing his small hand over Angel's leg, "No scared daddy." He whispered softly as he laid his head down on Angel's thigh.

At the new contact, her husband had stiffened again, his breath catching in his throat, but then, very slowly, she began to feel him relax.

It wasn't instant, but slowly his nightmare seemed to be ending and he was growing more aware of the world around him.

Relieve washed over her as the tremors lessened and his breathing deepen slightly, his heart rate began to steady.

'Thank you.' She whispered to anyone and anything that cared, pulling her lover tighter and kissing his temple and forehead and cheek, anything to keep contact. Her hands were rubbing his arms and under his neck, making sure he could feel she was still there.

It wasn't long before his vitals were calming back to normal levels, the shaking had stopped and his body was relaxing.

She gazed down at her love laying against her chest, his eyes were closed and his features tranquil. Glancing lower, she noted Katie and Liam were sound asleep as well.

Now that Angel was no longer actively bleeding, at risk for heart failure or suffering from asphyxiation, she took a few minutes to wipe away the blood that was now beginning to dry on his face.

When he was as clean as a damp facecloth could provide, she sat back and watched him sleep for a few minutes, slowly tracing her fingers though his hair as she finally letting her anxiety go.

Seeing he was now at rest, she hugging her husband tighter against her and closed her own eyes.

...

Angel's eyes slid open, but there was no distinction, open or closed looked exactly the same.

He felt a throbbing in his lower back, the result of the unforgiving floor digging mercilessly into his already-bruised-from-falling-down-the-stairs tailbone.

It seemed being human and actually needed to deal with aging was both a blessing and a curse.

His chest felt heavy, but it only took a second for his mind to register the weight belong to his children, the two small bodies blanketing him with warmth and comfort.

He adjusted his arms to better hold them in their position against him and he forced himself to sit up, instantly feeling the loss of heat and security from Buffy's from behind him, not to mention a stab of pain from his back.

He was more asleep still than awake, his body was exhausted but he didn't know why, nor did he care to. He needed to move to ease his discomfort from sitting on the floor, that information was all he processed. His mind looked no further than easing relief.

At the loss of his heavy body heat from her chest, Buffy woke and found herself staring at Angel's grey shirted broad back. He was sitting up but not moving, their children draped still sound asleep in his arms.

Alarm welled up for a moment, not being able to see his face or judge what he was thinking. 'Is the nightmare back?' She thought worriedly.

Quickly she sat up and tentatively touched his shoulder, glad when he didn't tense or pull away from her fingers. She moved so she could look at his face, which was easily visible in the bright bedroom light she'd never switched off.

His eyes were open, but heavily lidded, giving her an idea he was more like sleepwalking that really awake. She lifted her hand and ran it lightly along his cheek, watching his reaction.

He leaned into her touch, and turned his face to face roughly where hers was. His mouth opened and a single word was forced out with a rough but quiet voice, "Bed."

She realized he likely didn't know exactly where he was at the moment and with the burden of the children in his arms, he didn't want to fumble around blindly, which was all he could do under current circumstances.

Kissing his cheek in a 'yes' reply, she quickly stood and helped him up on slightly unsteady legs, since he was off balance holding the kids and couldn't use his arms to stand.

Once upright, her own backside was throbbing out an angry decree at her for forcing it to endure hours on a hard floor, she imagined his was doing the same, which was what likely woke him to begin with.

Unable to resist a peak, she pulled his shirt up and took a quick glance at his back, she didn't like the dark bruises along his pant-seam that were still lingering from his earlier fall.

Letting the shirt fall back into place, she guided him on the few steps back to the bed. He wouldn't let go of the kids, so she helped him settle before moving away only long enough to shut the bedroom light switch before climbing in behind him.

Seeing as Katie and Liam were occupying her usual resting spot against his chest, she figured she'd snuggle herself against his back, to both help keep pressure off the bruised area and to keep as much body contact with him as possible. The last thing she wanted was for that nightmare to make a re-run, but her touch usually kept them safely at bay.

He didn't resist in the slightest, letting himself be positioned and leaned back against her with his head on her shoulder, practically asleep again before she was able to flip the lights off.

Buffy planted a kiss on his cheek before resting her head against the plush pillow-top under her back, finding herself so much comfier now there was a mattress under her and her family safely snuggled together.

...

The kids woke before their parents, but the adults soon followed as their little bodies began to shift and move restlessly over them.

Buffy brought the toddlers to the joined bathroom as Angel sat up and rubbed his crusty sightless eyes. He still felt heavy and sore, and he was slightly disorientated and confused about his dream, but otherwise functional.

When Buffy exited the bathroom, the two little ones darted off to head downstairs to play. She looked over at her spouse as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking melancholy. "Never a good sign." She muttered to herself, knowing he couldn't hear, and sat down beside him. Watching him a moment, she raised her hand and laid it gently on the back of his neck and along his tense shoulder muscles. When he didn't pull away, she climbed onto the bed behind him and kneaded her fingers into the tight cords, messaging away the tension.

He exhaled a pleasurable groan and leaned into her touch, enjoying the feel of her hands on his shoulders and the way she worked the knots out of his upper body.

When he felt sufficiently relaxed, she leaned against him with her arm wrapping around his neck to run her thumb along his cheek and kissed the opposite one.

His hand wrapped around the one she had draped across his neck and he held her there a moment, her chest pressed up against his back felt good, despite the healing bruises. He turned his face and pressed his forehead against her cheek, his voice was still a little raw but he managed, "Thank you."

He couldn't hear her reply, but he felt it, her lips pressing against his. Her warm lips, sweet taste and soft caress were all he needed at the moment.

Reluctantly she pulled away, grasping his hand in hers, she kept close contact between them as she guided him downstairs to where the kids were currently playing unsupervised.

She was grateful he seemed to understand this time that the only reason she wasn't stripping him naked and making love to him right now where the fact the two children couldn't be left unattended.

Once downstairs, the kids stole there father from her for some sort of game and Buffy escaped into the kitchen to throw breakfast together and more importantly, get the coffee started.

Cereal was the extent of Buffy's willingness to cook that morning, so once she poured the milk in the bowls, she called for the kids to bring daddy into the kitchen. While the kids enjoyed their Cheerios, Buffy pressed a hot pop-tart and steaming mug of coffee into her husband's hands as she spooned granola into a cup of yogurt for herself.

The rest of the day went by similarly, Buffy had wished to go outside for some sun and fresh air, but being the end January meant only cold and snow. Shoveling was not high on her list of wants at the moment.

Despite the smile she witnessed over her lover's lips, she knew that same mirth wasn't reflected in his sightless eyes. She caught him looking broody a time or six, in the downtime between being a human trampoline or a tickle machine. When the kids were actively occupying his attention he seemed normal, but when he was alone, that frown returned.

There was still something bothering him and not for the first time she wished they could communicate. She wasn't even sure what he remembered about last night, if he even knew about the nightmare that had nearly given him a cardiac arrest in their bedroom. It wasn't like she could ask him, her questions would fall on deaf ears.

That night when she finished tucking the kids into bed, Angel was again turned away from her in their bed, which was unusually and not a good sign.

Tonight, she'd really wanted to sleep wrapped in his arms like always, especially since he was obviously still feeling useless and depressed and likely a hundred other complexes just waiting to be named.

Not that she wanted Angel to think she only found him useful as a pillow in his current condition, but that she took great comfort in his presence, whether or not he could talk to her or even look at her. She just wanted him, any way she could have him.

She slipped under the covers and slid up behind him, his eyes were shut but she knew he was awake.

Since touch was their only real means of communicating, she lifted her hand and laid it on his arm, letting him know she was there and wanted his attention.

He didn't move.

'Ok, I've got Stubborn Angel tonight.' Buffy thought with a note of annoyance, still wondering why he'd been moody all day. The ups and down were making her head spin. Besides, she needed her spouse a little more receptive for what she was planning.

Feeling the muscles in his shoulder tense, instead of trying to roll him over she quickly scooted over him so she was laying facing him.

Despite the darkness coating their bedroom she could practically see him frown.

Ignoring it, she placed her hand on his cheek and gently ran her hand down his face.

Unlike his willingness this morning, to her displeasure, he rolled onto his back and turned his face away from her.

He almost opened his mouth, but at the last minute kept it shut. He didn't want to upset her right now, not when she was trying to comfort him. 'Please Buffy, just leave me alone.' He thought to himself, wanting to just go to sleep.

All day he'd had a cloud hovering over him, that broody mist was getting comfortable by now and he just wanted to let it linger. His nightmare was still flowing though his mind and although he knew his family was alive and safe, that worthless feeling was still strong in his mind.

He didn't feel deserving of love right now.

Not one to allow her husband to spend the night brooding and self depreciating if she had a choice in the matter, Buffy climbed on top of him and pressed her lips to his. She was letting him know in clear unspoken language that no matter what, he was loved and excepted as he was...no matter how much he tried to fight it.

Even thought she may have to press the issue and show him some 'tough love', she knew no matter how much of a funk that he was in at the moment, he couldn't resist her lips for long.

As she expected, his resistance became less resisting after a few kisses, instead growing more demanding as his hunger for his wife grew.

That worthless cloud was being chipped away as his wife's lips took control, easing him away from that lost and hopeless depression and giving his mind and body both something to focus on.

She smiled to herself at the victory as he rolled atop her, kissing down her neck and making himself right at home against her body.

He didn't need to see or hear or smell or speak in order to kiss her, to love her, and he was doing a mighty fine job of it.

Angel slid lower down his lovers body, enjoying the feel of her skin against his lips and the taste of her in his mouth. As he slipped a nipple into his mouth and began to suck and lick the steadily stiffening bud, he realized how much her body spoke to him.

He could feel her muscles as she twitched and squirmed with pleasure under his hands and mouth, her own roaming digits confirmed her growing enthusiasm for his actions as they squeezed and pulled at his shoulder and hair, he could sense her reaching out to him with her very soul.

Despite her obvious joy, he greatly missed seeing her beautiful face as it contorted in pleasure, he wanted to hear her soft moans as he slid a finger into her hot center and ran his thumb along her most sensitive spot, he wanted to smell her arousal as she clenched around his fingers in orgasm.

His sense of loss vanished as her hand wrapped around his hardening flesh and stroked him to full attention.

As his attention was drawn more and more into his wife's desires, those mocking feelings that had plagued him all day of being useless and a burden dissolved. Pleasure bumped the shadow of the nightmares he's been cycling over right of his mind, he was feeling far too loved at the moment to be distracted by brooding thoughts.

Any conscious thoughts outside of making love to his wife disappeared as he slid inside of her, finding everything else in the world suddenly didn't matter anymore.

Everything he wanted and needed was pulling his mouth against hers.

He was home, and everything was good.