Um Hi again! I should really start with an apology. Life's been a bit hectic at the moment, and the USB on which I store all my stories is well... pretty much dead. I'm sorry to have been gone so long, and I really hope that it won't happen again. Also, I'm about to go into year 11 at school so life will be even more hectic than before as I'm determined to become like Hermione or Willow, and actually study.

Thank you for the favourites and alerts you guys gave Ex Abyssus. Special thanks goes out to the people that reviewed- you guys receive a life-size Angel Cardboard cut out as prize! This chapter follows the events of Beauty and the Beasts. I think this will be the last really cannon one (because I adore the scene at the end of it) so forgive me if I just reiterate the episode into a shorter version.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Buffy, but sadly I don't. I am merely a teenager that has too much free time on her hands.

Buffy blinked for a second, and the meadow was gone, as was Angel. She felt tears sting her eyes as she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. The slayer could have sworn it was real— it felt so real. Buffy raised a trembling hand to her lips, it had felt like the past months had all been a bad dream, that Angelus had never been set free and it was just herself and Angel.

The slayer closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. Why hadn't she had a vision of Angel being tortured as she had done every single night since sending him to hell? She frowned, trying to think of any possible explanation for the odd dream. But she had never been the brains of the Scooby gang— she was the slayer, all with the physical stuff like fighting and such. Could she ask Giles? Buffy bit her lip, she had yet to tell him and the rest of the gang that she was having these visions of Angel.

But how would they react if she did tell them? She could imagine Giles cleaning his glasses over and over as he tried to think of what to say, "Are you sure these are visions? I must consult some past watcher diaries to see if this has ever occurred before…"

Willow would be similar, "Giles is right, we probably should see if any other slayers had trouble with this sort of thing before. Not that it's a trouble! I mean… we just want to help you get better… but not like in the way that we think you're going insane or anything… somebody should stop me now…"

Xander's reaction would be more vocal: "visions of dead boy? You sure you're not just eating a banana or something before bed? Cos I once did that and I dreamt that I was forced to tap dance in front of an audience of clowns…"

Yeah, that would definitely not be the best idea for the moment. But the question haunted her, what did her dream mean?

†

Buffy was stuck with patrol for the evening as Faith had opted for Oz duty. The night before, when Xander had fallen asleep on his shift, a boy had been brutally attacked. The window to Oz's makeshift cage had been pushed open, so there was a possibility that it could have been a werewolf attack. Buffy shuddered and felt a stab of sympathy for her stoic friend.

She rounded the bushes and was harshly knocked to the side by a blurred figure. Buffy rolled and looked up to her assailant. Her heart stopped. Everything stopped.

He looked different than he had in her visions, and yet still the same. Was that even possible? Buffy didn't know, all she could focus on was the man before her. He was snapping and snarling, half naked and wild looking. There was a yellow glint to his eye that was reminiscent of the beast that lay within him.

She was pulled from her reverie as he lunged for her with an animalistic ferocity. Using her slayer reflexes, she rolled out of his way just in time. Buffy scrambled to her feet and sent a punch into her ex-lover's face, knocking him out cold. She stared at him for a few moments before crouching down and gripping his arm. There would be time to think about this later, for now she just had to get him out of here.

†

He was back, the thought repeated over and over in her brain. He's back. He's back. He's back.

He was heavy in her arms, even with her slayer strength. She hauled him towards the wall, spotting a loop that would be perfect to lace some chains through. Her work was almost clinical as she left him for a few moments raiding chests for what she was looking for. There, in a dusty chest amongst porcelain dolls, was a set of chains and manacles.

She grabbed them and hurried back to the unconscious Angel. As quickly and gently as she could, she threw the chain through the metal loop embedded in the wall before binding his hands in the manacles.

Her lip curled in slight disgust at the sight—reminded of the chains that had bound him in hell, in her visions.

The sweet mantra that filled her mind, continued to grow louder, trying to convince her that it was real. Her heart felt light, beating so fast that it was almost reminiscent of a hummingbird's wings. Her moss coloured eyes swiveled towards him. He was still knocked out cold, but she was sure that that wouldn't last for long.

She took a step back, her eyes refusing to leave his form. Convinced that if she took her sight off him for a second— or even blinked —he would disappear, leaving her all alone again. Her eyes caught the fraction of movement in his left hand. Her heart jumped.

Angel's eyelids flickered for a moment, before they snapped open. In one second, his yellow tinged eyes assessed the situation he was in. He leapt up, the chains clinking. They held him there as he tried in vain to free himself. Buffy watched in fascination at the sight of him. A predator, an animal. His teeth were bared.

A low rumbling echoed throughout the almost empty space. It took Buffy a second to realise that the sound was coming from Angel. He was growling, his yellowish eyes trained on her. She took a step forward, then another.

He made another startling movement though. He was up, moving as close to her as he possibly could with his chains. He snapped and snarled at her, baring his fangs. She leapt back from him. She had never been afraid of a vampire before, not like this, and certainly not by Angel. Then, as suddenly as it had happened, he was crouched back to the wall—shrouding his face from her.

What time was it anyway? She had school in the morning. As soon as the thought entered her head though, she knew she would not be able to sleep. Buffy sighed and decided to head to the library; one of Giles' musty old books had to explain this. Besides, she could take the reins from Faith on Oz watch.

With one last look at the cowering Angel, she left.

†

She awoke as a hand shook her shoulder.

"Buffy?"

"Giles what are you doing in my—Oh," she remembered where she was, just as the thick book on her lap fell to the floor with a dull thud.

"I guess those books were a sure way to cure my insomnia," she gave a laugh of embarrassment. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, highlighting the dust specks that filled the air.

Giles gave a small worried smile and bent to pick up the book that had fallen to the carpeted floor, also coming across a second book that must have fallen off Buffy's lap while she slept. His brow puckered as he read the titles.

"The History of Acathla? Exploring Demon Dimensions?"

Buffy began to panic. She couldn't tell him; no way would he be the understanding father figure she had come to know him as. Not when it came to Angel. The urge to protect him welled up inside of her and Buffy's mind went into a frenzy to come up with some excuse.

"I've been having these… dreams lately of Angel," she said, not meeting his eyes.

Giles sighed and sat down on the carpeted floor beside her, "But they are just dreams."

"Very realistic dreams. This was vivid. Really vivid. Three-dimensional, sensurround,
the hills are alive," she amended.

"A slayer dream?"

The blonde slayer shook her head and looked down at her hands, "Is… is it possible for… him to come back?"

Even though she wasn't looking and him, she knew Giles was now cleaning his glasses.

"Buffy…" he began, "Even if Angel were to come back, he would be different. Time passes differently in Hell than it does here. Any being who manages to return from that would surely have become a monster, if it could be done at all. It would take someone of extraordinary character to retain any semblance of oneself… "

Well that explained the whole growly thing…

He sighed, "In my experience, there are two types of monster. The first can be redeemed, or more importantly, wants to be redeemed."

"And the second type?" questioned Buffy

"The second is void of humanity... cannot respond to reason or love."

"But if there was a way—"

He cut her off, "Buffy no matter how realistic dreams can be, they are still just that, dreams."

They were interrupted as Willow arrived to tell them that her investigation was not conclusive.

Was it possible…?

No, she reasoned weakly with herself, Angel wouldn't do something like that.

'He's not the man you knew,' whispered a voice in her head, 'he's a monster now—Giles himself said so…'

She was jumpy and distracted for the first part of her day and by lunch she was resolved. She had to see Angel. Buffy made up some flimsy excuse about seeing Mr. Platt (the school counselor that she had been forced to see.)

The blonde slayer hurried out of the school and ran all the way to the mansion.

It was with some trepidation that she entered. But she bottled her fears up; she had to know that there was some semblance of the Angel she knew, the Angel that would not kill the innocent. She found him curled up in a ball, his head snapping to her as she entered. She kept her distance this time. Watching him. He watched her too, his yellow eyes distrustful. She tilted her head, and he copied, causing her to laugh. A growl escaped Angel, effectively silencing it. It appeared that he did not like being laughed at.

Buffy knew that her time was up. So it was with a heavy heart that she left the growling Angel without any proof that he was still in there. But who could really blame him after what he had to endure?

She returned to school. She needed… she needed…

What did she need?

Before she knew it, her feet had carried her to Mr. Platt's office. She knocked and entered. She found him sitting there, the top of his head only visible as he had his chair turned away from her.

"Mr. Platt? I know this is sudden and everything but I need your advice on something."

She waited for him to respond, but he didn't.

"Mr. Platt?"

She walked over to him and was shocked at what she found, or what was left of him anyway. Buffy turned and ran to the library to tell Giles. Relief coursed through her veins. It was day time! There was no way Angel could have escaped his bonds and killed poor Mr. Platt. So she was sorry that the guy was dead and everything, she had kinda liked him…

†

After coming to the conclusion that Pete was indeed the killer, the group split up. Buffy andWillowwent in search of Debbie, only to find that when they tried to talk some sense into her, Debbie began to defend Pete and his actions.

"He does love me. He does love me."

"I think we broke her," whispered Willow.

Buffy looked on at the muttering Debbie, "I think she was broken before this."

They left her and returned to the library only to find Oz in wolf form, attacking a red and veiny Pete. Buffy acted quickly and got the tranquiliser gun. She took aim at Oz but as she pulled the trigger, her arm was knocked aside. Debbie had decided to join.

The dart flew out of the gun and hit Giles, causing him to pass out behind the reception desk. Pete made his escape, but not before Oz bit him on the arm. Buffy passed the tranquiliser gun to Faith and ran after Pete.

She had lost sight of him. Damn he was fast. Her eyes searched and found their reward—a bright red liquid on the window sill next to her. She climbed through it, following the trail of blood that Pete left behind.

When she followed the trail into the supply room, she found Debbie lying on the floor. Buffy stooped to her side and checked for a pulse but found none. She was knocked off her feet and the fight began.

Buffy leapt back to her feet quickly using her slayer speed. Pete's red, distorted face yelled and screamed at her—taking wild and dangerous swipes with his long and sharp looking nails. Pete got a hit in, forcing Buffy to the ground. He lifted his arm up for another strike but before the stroke could fall, the door banged open.

Her Angel had come.

His yellow eyes took her in on the ground and then flicked to Pete, whose head had turned to the intrusion. The battle before her was a quick one, filled with roars of fury and low growls. Angel used the chain still clamped to his wrists as a sort of lasso. They wrapped around Pete's neck and with a sharp tug—there was an awful cracking sound and Pete fell to the floor, unmoving.

She stood, her gaze unwavering. His growls died, as did his fighting stance, he turned to face her. They stood across from each other for a few moments before he took a tentative step towards her.

With each step, his face was transforming. Ridged brow disappearing, fangs retracting, feral yellow eyes becoming a soft brown.

"Buffy?"

She stood stock still as he came close. He surprised her by sinking to his knees before her, wrapping his arms around her small waist.

"Buffy."

Her shirt was being stained by his tears. She gazed upwards and thanked the heavens for her dearest possession back. A tear slipped through her lashes as she closed her eyes and stood there. But standing was not enough, she had to feel, she had to know that he was truly there. Buffy unwrapped his arms from her and sank to the floor. She silently bid him to come closer to her, and he willingly obliged. He curled up on the cold floor, his head resting in her lap. Her soft hand ran through his hair, her tears mingling with his own as they landed onto his face.

"My Angel," she began whispering, fingers touching his cheek, "My Angel"

†

Willow walked the halls after getting the now tranquilised Oz back in his cage, calling out for Buffy. She saw the traces of red on the window sill leading to the outside hallway and knew that Buffy would have followed it. She took the long way around though, her being an uncoordinated climber at best. When she reached the door leading to the supply room, she could hear sobs escaping the slightly open door.

She looked and saw… no. No that was definitely not back, and gave a muffled gasp—but both parties inside did not notice. Shaking, she looked again. Sure enough, Buffy was sitting on the floor and, with his head in her lap, was Angel. Both were crying, whispering things thatWillowstrained her ears to hear.

She couldn't though, and was forced to watch the couple for a while. Her first instinct was to run and tell Giles, Angelus is back. But looking at him now, she realized that it wasn't him. It was Angel. Angelus would never subject himself to a weak state—even if it was an act.

No, the curse had worked and she knew it. She moved away from the door, away from the not to inform Giles. Angel was no danger, and it would be a betrayal to Buffy if she tattled on her.

Willow walked the deserted hallways and knew she had made the right decision.

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