Hello, Fingersfallingupwards here, posting another project for reasons of 4 AM logic. I love this crossover so much it hurts. But where are all the stories? This is the crossover I wish I could have read. (Any recs?)

The pairing is undecided.

I promise this will be the most original, in-depth, epic fic of Bones and Angel I can make. Grammar and Spelling? Not so big on the promising in that category. Sorry.

DISCLAIMER: I own neither 'Bones' nor 'Angel' nor any affiliated creations.

Chapter One: Torn Seams and Frayed Ends

The lights were falling around his head.

Blinding whiteness filled his eyes and it seemed as though he had been floating for a lifetime.

—Angel—

Memories conflicted, mixing and meshing in a mis-matched web of colors and lives.

Booth, you—

His eyes parted. The white of the room was overwhelming for a moment and his eyes fluttered before falling shut once more. After a few seconds of adjusting, he looked around the blinding unfamiliar space.

Light, he hadn't known real light in hundreds of years. Though he'd been swimming in the bright sun a few days ago. His mind twitched painfully. There were so many mixed feelings and ideas swirling around his head all at once.

Champion of the hopeless—

He couldn't understand. He squeezed his eyes shut.

—you're my partn—

Why was this so painful? Who was he? What was—

—When I look into the future all I see is you—

"Booth." The voice was gentle, and feminine. There was a hand on his arm, warm and alive.

He opened his eyes and looked towards her. Concerned blue eyes rested below thick brown hair.

His eyelids fluttered as a cavalcade of hundreds and thousands of brunette women he'd never known and remembered so well, began pouring through his head. Composed of all ages and eras of dress, they tread through the white space of his mind. Blood covered their body more often than not, and he knew instinctively that he had been the one to kill them. But every so often, there was one smiling towards him, alive and pure.

It was too much. "Who am I?" He asked breathing heavily. It was an unnecessary habit, but he also knew it wasn't. The burn in his lungs felt real. It felt human. Was that what he was? What else would he be, another part of himself asked?

"I— I," The woman jumped to her feel trembling.

"Who are you?" The features blurred together for a moment and all at once she was every brunette woman who marched through his head.

"'Me darlin' Kathy?" He asked, sitting up. He reached his hand out towards her.

She shook her head numbly.

Blood poured down her throat.

Liam's hand fell, landing limply on his lap, shiny and coated with red liquid.

No, his mind supplied slowly. She was from another lifetime. She knew Liam. Was he Liam? No, he wasn't not any more. Not since Kathy died. He knew that.

He groped mentally. "Drusilla?" He asked after a moment of silence.

Her tinkling, off-key laughter echoed in his ears and dread and nausea filled his stomach. Angelus groaned aloud and doubled over.

The woman approached him with a gentle, though shaking touch.

No, gentility contrasted so greatly with the messy image of the woman in his mind. The beautiful, terrible mess that he had made. She was Angelus' doing, but he didn't do things like that. He stopped making them bleed. He wasn't like that anymore.

"Cordelia?" He tried again.

The image of a bright young woman with pain in her eyes and an incisive smile on her face settled into Angel's mind. He smiled now.

Angel. That sounded closer. Angel was good. Could he be that person?

"No— I'm not any of those . . ." Not-Cordelia said, pain lacing her voice. The images in his head shifted fiercely rearranging themselves so quickly he thought he was going to throw up. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a beautiful intelligent woman. Her face was ashen and anguished.

"Bones?" He queried.

"Yes," She said, giving a watery smile, Tears began flooding down her face. He didn't want her to cry.

"Why are you crying?" He asked.

"I don't know!" She exclaimed. He wanted her to be better, to be happy. "Do—" She cleared her throat. "Do you remember who you are?"

He reached out towards her face, ignoring the slight twitch. "This is who I am." He spoke simply as he carefully wiped the tears from her cheeks.

His hand rested on her cheek a moment more until a small smile spread over her face.

"Oh!" He exclaimed softly. Suddenly he knew who he was. He cared about Bones. Booth was the one who cared about Bones.

"Booth," He said. "I'm Booth."

Her eyes widened as surprise filled her expression. It startled a chuckle out of him.

"Getting all teary over me Bones," He teased, feeling warm in his heart, "You're lucky Sweets isn't here to psychoanalyze this. He'd never let this go."

She laughed lightly.

"Are you sure you're okay Booth?" Bones eventually looked at him again, concern filling her blue eyes. "You didn't remember your name or mine at first."

He nodded as the specifics of what was going on filtered back into his mind. "It was just a bit scrambled, what with the whole cutting into my brain thing," He said flippantly. "The doctor said it might be like this after the surgery for a little while."

Bones nodded slowly. She had committed the doctor's words to memory. So far, it had gone better than he'd said it could have.

"Hey, everything's fine," he said, drawing back her attention. "Stop worrying or you'll get wrinkles."

She shook her head from her thoughts. "I should get the doctor," she said rising from her chair. She hesitated for a moment before she turned back to Booth. "I'm glad you're okay," she said honestly before ducking out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind her, a serious expression spread over Booth's face as he put his arms beneath his head and laid back down.

He needed to figure out why exactly he had 250+ years of memories in his head.

The doctors had come in shortly after Bones had left and examined him up and down. After they found he was physically sound, they invited Bones back in. What proceeded was round upon round of questions about what he remembered. They referred back to Bones to check his answers. He was a bit slow to answering the questions. The men in white coats waved it away as being perfectly natural after having brain surgery.

Despite their assurance, it frustrated him.

He personally blamed it on having to sort through nearly three hundred years of memories, but he kept that thought to himself. He bantered a little with Bones which made him smile and her relax a little. After being put through the ringer, they declared him to be mentally stable, and on schedule for a full recovery. They left him alone with Bones. After a little more banter, she also left, promising to bring around the squint squad to visit.

Once she was gone, the smile slowly faded from his face and a brooding countenance filled the gap.

Thoughts ran around the inside of his head madly, making it ache painfully. He was still trying to sort through all of the old-new memories he found himself suddenly saddled with. One concern elevated above the whirlwind of confusion he now found himself in, and that was the question of why it was he remembered all these new things from so long ago— from another lifetime.

Booth toyed with a few theories to explain the influx of information.

The first was that he was still crazy, and should probably tell a doctor. This was his least favorite hypothesis.

The second theory was that he had been Angel, and he fulfilled the prophecy and Shanshu-ed into a new, human life. He hesitated. This would greatly explain why it felt as though he had always been Angel, instead of feeling like another person's memories. At the same time, it seemed to be highly, highly unlikely. A vampire with a soul, who ended up having what was supposed to be an impossible kid, and taking over a law firm and facing a dragon? Was it possible for all that to happen to a person? It seemed farfetched. That wasn't even mentioning the all too important detail of considering the idea that vampires even existed.

Booth rubbed his face.

The third option was that he had been kidnapped by aliens.

He sighed heavily.

The insanity argument was looking more and more likely.

"Knock knock," Angela said from the open door, her face a brimming smile.

He let the moody expression fall from his face and turned to her with a smile, "Angela," he greeted. He spied Brennan, Sweets and the other two scientists filing in behind her but his mind blanked for a moment and he felt his face growing pale.

"Booth honey, are you alright?" Angela asked, noting his expression.

"Conner? Wesley?" He asked incredulously, a mixture of tumultuous emotions building in his chest. There was an awkward pause in the room before Bones quickly dragged the two men closer and sat them down near Booth.

"No," Bones said, a calm expression on her face, "This is Zach."

"Uhm, hello Agent Booth," the young man fidgeted awkwardly. No. Definitely not Conner.

Conner preferred brooding and glaring when he felt uncomfortable, never the kind of fidgeting he saw before him. Never awkward submissiveness. He blinked and tried to banish the image of his maybe-imaginary-son. He was grateful that when he opened his eyes, the lab tech sat in his place.

"Oh," he said after a moment, "Sorry about that." He scratched his head. "How've you been?"

"I would argue perhaps better than you seeing as you had a tumor," The young scientist said bluntly, making Booth smile.

"And this is Hodgins," Angela said catching on to what her friend was doing. Not-Wesley smiled awkwardly.

He tried to bring the appropriate image to mind. Booth felt pleased it had fallen into place sooner than the last time.

"Right. I remember."

"You're not just saying that right?" The scientist asked skeptically.

"No," He said honestly, "I remember now."

The relief in the room was palpable. From the lack of surprise on their faces, it was clear to see that Bones had talked to them before letting them in to see him.

"Hello Booth," The psychologist, Dr. Sweets said belatedly.

"Hi Sweets," Booth greeted. He knew the young doctor was scanning him and measuring his responses in a way that only someone deeply invested in the art of the human mind could. He shifted a little uncomfortably under the kind, though analytical gaze. Freud had been like that too when he'd ran into him at a cocktail party during—

"Oh, score," Hodgins said, noting the food. "Pudding!"

"Back off," Booth warned, holding the spoon threateningly. Inwardly he welcomed the reprieve from his confusing thoughts. Because he never met Freud.

. . . Right?

"Are you doing well?" Angela asked, "I mean, recovery wise."

"Yeah, I'm on track to get out of here pretty soon. Thank God." He hated hospitals. "The only good thing is the pudding." He smiled lightly, "What have you been up to? Working on anything interesting?"

The group was quick to fill him in on what they had been doing. Apparently they discovered a skeleton from a few centuries ago and Zach and Bones were avidly discussing the alignment of the knuckle bones. Angela and Hodgins added their opinions here and there and Zach and Hodgins devolved into little spats every so often. Sweets tentatively put a word forth every now and again, not having too much to do with cases where the FBI was not involved. Booth allowed himself to fade into the background and simply watch them.

This was his world. Those other places didn't exi—

Fancy Victorian hotels, sewers, the Hyperion, the mansion, the flat and CEO's office all flitted through his mind faster than he could blink voicing fierce denial of his thoughts. He fought the urge to cry out in pain at the sudden onslaught.

"Booth?" Angela asked, making him realize that they were all looking towards him with concerned faces.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," He apologized, hiding a wince "What were you saying."

"I wanted to ask, who are Connor and Wesley?" Angela repeated.

Booth struggled to answer for a few moments, trying to figure out what to say. He wanted to laugh. Booth knew he needed to lie, but not even he knew the true answer to the question. Not really.

"Old friends," He finally said at length.

"From the army?" Bones asked.

He made a slip-second decision, "No, before I went to war." There. He figured they wouldn't be able to find proof he was lying.

"I see, so your brain manifested images of your past friends as the neurons repair the pathways—" Sweets began, eyes alight with interest.

"Can we not say repair?" Booth asked wincing, "You make it sound like something's broken."

"Either way, the fact you chose those people to remember must have some significance," The psychologist continued.

"They were close friends, yeah." He spoke a little stiffly.

"And Kathy, Drusilla and Cordelia? Were they friends maybe . . . or perhaps old candles?" Bones asked after a few moments looking at him from the corner of her eye.

He choked on his pudding and gave her an utterly horrified look. The other scientists laughed. Misreading the expression on his face for embarrassment, Bones was quick to reassure him.

"It's perfectly natural, although psychology is a weak science, it would not be entirely unusual for you to have visions of those you used to have physical attachments to."

"Oh God," He said, looking nauseous again. Booth pushed his pudding away miserably. Hodgins was quick to scoop up the unopened one. "That would just be—" He frowned. Kathy was his beloved sister, the very thought was— He shuddered.

"Score!" Hodgins said with a smile. Nothing was like the pudding at the hospital. He wondered if he could buy it in bulk to bring back to his house.

"I'm guessing they aren't old loves then?" Angela said with a smile.

"No," He shook his head. "That would be just plain wrong."

Hodgins snorted into his pudding cup. "If your Cordelia looks anything like the celebrity, then I can't think of ANYTHING that could be wrong about that."

"The celebrity?" Booth asked with a curious expression.

"Come on, you know, Cordelia Chase," Hodgins said through a mouth of pudding.

"You probably know her, just don't recognize the name," Angela began, not noticing how Booth had frozen after hearing her full name. She held up a finger and began rummaging through her purse, "Hold on, I probably have a— Aha!" She said victoriously. In her hands she held a copy of People's magazine.

She flipped through the pages quickly until she found what she wanted and passed the publication over to Booth. "She's been in a lot of stuff recently, big blockbuster films, but she originally starred in daytime soaps."

Angela was talking— Booth knew she was, but he can't understand the letters and syllables. His eyes are transfixed on her all-to familiar smile.

"Teardrop Hollow is still on TV, right?" He faintly heard Sweets carrying on the conversation.

Her hair was longer than before.

"How'd you know about that, Sweets?" Bones asked curiously.

Her clothes were more expensive.

"Daisy likes to watch the soaps." The psychologist defended.

She was older, no longer the ex-cheerleader or starving actress.

"And you watch them with her?" Zack queried.

And yet . . .

"You're such a girl." Hodgins laughed.

Her smile . . . Her smile was the same.

"I think it's cute. You could pick up a tip from Sweets, Jack," Angela commented.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the beautiful woman in the photograph was his Cordelia Chase.

His best friend Cordy.

He pulled his hands to his temples as his head began to throb painfully.

"Are you alright?" Bones asked, making him notice that his friends' eyes had turned towards him with concern.

"Yeah, just tired," He said offering them a weak smile.

"Well, maybe we should go," Angela suggested as she took her magazine back and rolled it up before placing it in her purse.

"We'll visit soon," Sweets assured him.

"Okay, I'll see you then," He smiled a little half-heartedly as he watched them leave.

He set his head back and sighed as he stared at the ceiling.

There was a perfectly logical explanation for all of this. His mind had created some sort of fantasy and pulled people he'd seen in passing. A beautiful actress for example. His stomach rebelled at the thought but he ignored the feeling. It made perfect sense, but . . .

It was the small things. The little, inconsequential details that were so specific the idea of it being a delusion seemed laughable. Then there was her personality— So full of emotions and rich in character . . . it seemed impossible for him to be able to create such and intricate and fully rounded person with all the unique tics and nuances in his head.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

Crazy, he was going crazy.

But . . . He didn't feel crazy.

He groaned in frustration

If it wasn't the delusions, then all the conflicting thoughts would drive him to insanity. Hopefully this was just an aftereffect of the surgery that would fade away with time. He pointedly ignored the heavy feeling in his gut that told him it wasn't the case.

REview?

Well then, I'd love to know if someone actually read this . . . Angel has so few fans . . . Then again my LOTR Rurouni Kenshin crossover actually has readers, so maybe . . .

Next chapter next Friday, or the Friday after depending on response. It's written, just needs edits.

I think this is the shortest chapter I've ever posted . . .