DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy or Angel, they belong to Joss and other parties. But I don't know why Joss owns them, because with Felicity and Serena we'd be just fine without him! But, I have to give him some credit 'cause he made them and everything..
DISTRIBUTION: Just ask and I'll give:)
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated! Flames will be used to burn the pot roast:)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Takes place after Becoming, Angel's experience in Hell.
WARNING: Angst

Hell.

It wasn't what he expected it to be. No little demons scurrying around his feet, making fun of his anguish and laughing at his pain. No unbearable, scorching heat and fire emanating from deep lava pits engraved into the ground. No fiery red walls illuminated by the flickering candlelights surrounding the dome-shaped atmosphere.

No. It was much worse.

His own personal demons tortured him endlessly, feeding on every wonderful, pure thought that happened to be in his mind. He was surrounded by blackness, but he could see beyond it. He saw his love, Buffy, only it wasn't a pleasant sight. All of his worst fears came true in the images the demons sent him. Buffy getting killed, Buffy telling him flat out that she didn't love him the way he loved her, or worse, Buffy kissing and groping with a random guy - although, sometimes that random guy was Alexander Harris.

There was no blocking out the images. They were there in front of him when he opened his eyes, and were implanted into his eyelids when he closed them. They were in his dreams, which should be considered nightmares, if you thought about it.

That is, when he slept.

Hell wasn't exactly a place for rest and relaxation. Eternal torment wasn't like that. Eternal torment was living with the images every day of your life, or rather, un-life.

The images again flooded into his mind and cluttered against his conscious thoughts, moving him into one of his more lethal stages. He slipped into his game face, which didn't go unnoticed by the greater ones, who laughed gleefully at his obvious pain.

He growled deep in his throat and thrashed at the invisible bonds that kept him in this unbearable place of torture, but found that as usual, he wasn't able to break them. He was stuck here, stuck to entertain the miserable creeps that sent him to this place.

He didn't blame Buffy. He could never blame her. Although he questioned her actions at first, he forgave her the minute she thrust the sword into his abdomen. No questions asked. He knew now that she had done it to save the world. He had always admired her bravery.

He smiled at the thought of his lover, and knew he had made a mistake when the greater ones frowned upon him and his innocent smile, and he felt himself drifting.

He instantly knew what was happening, and felt himself become saddened as they watched his spectral venture into her hotel room.

He felt the darkness outside more than he saw it and knew it was nighttime, so he looked over to where his lover was, curled up on the bed.

He walked over to her and sat down beside her small form, then gazed upon her tearstained cheeks. He grazed his hand down her smooth, pale face, knowing that his touch was like a gentle wind across the Slayer's cheek.

He heard her whimper and knew that she must have been having yet another recollection of that night in her dreams, the night where she had damned him to Hell and to eternal torment.

Yet he did not blame her. He wished he could let her know, let her see that it wasn't her fault. But he knew that it was impossible. He had tried telling her before, but the greater ones knew when he was about to call out to her, and pulled him back. He wouldn't make that mistake again. Every moment spent with his lover was one to cherish, and he wanted as many as he was able to have.

He heard her call out his name in her sleep, her pleas to her supposedly unexistant love coming out in such a strangled cry that Angel reached out for her and spoke her name.

Buffy instantly shot up, and he called her name again, more soothingly, trying to calm her down. She froze, then looked around the room in fear, and confusion. "Angel?" She whispered.

He was about to respond, when he felt himself being pulled back, being ripped away from this dimension. He struggled to move back to her, where she sat, looking so lonely and afraid and innocent, but could not do anything of the kind. He watched her helplessly, knowing that she must have thought she was dreaming as she buried her head into her pillow and silently cried.

He felt his own hot tears burning his cheeks as he knew that he couldn't go to her, he couldn't calm her or soothe her. He felt anger towards the greater ones who stood there above him, laughing at him and at his lover, and knowing there was nothing he could do.

Hell.

It wasn't with the fire and the heat implanting itself against your skin, forming scars that would take forever and an eternity to heal.

It was so much worse

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