Title: Little Cell Broken
TV Show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Beloved Slayer
Rating: T
Summary: A rewrite of the alternate scene that takes place between Buffy and Angel immediately after the events of Beauty and the Beasts. Despite sending him to the hell dimension, and her inner turmoil, Buffy realizes in the end that her feelings for Angel had never changed.
Author's Notes: I decided to do a rewrite of this one shot as the ending left me a little unsatisfied after reading it a couple of days ago. Hopefully it's better than the original version. And don't worry, the epilogue for Pretty In Black will be posted this weekend. Enjoy, guys!
Chapter One
She heard the sound of Pete's neck being snapped apart, startling her out of the never ending daze, her eyes shifting its focus on the freshly cold body that laid on the floor. She turned her eyes to capture those feral, animalistic, yet familiar orbs as the man standing before her strutted forward in what appeared to be relief, a sense of unanimous joy written across his soot covered face.
His face was no longer vampiric, but human. Even when the world would one day fall down on its knees, she would remember that angelic face. Even in her dreams.
Relief burned through her skin; the fire so painful that she couldn't exhale, the sensation powerful enough for her body to almost succumb to trembling; to buckling underneath her, as if the world was becoming nonexistent.
She could see the inflicted emotions dwelling deep within his chestnut eyes. She knew, somehow, that the first rows of tears would soon fill them. He spoke his first word; the first he had ever spoken since their last night together…
"Buffy?" he called out, daring not to believe what he was seeing before his eyes, the chains that bounded him rattling and bouncing from his elongated thighs. Even when he called her name, she couldn't force herself to speak. She couldn't convey the words needed to properly acknowledge him. Her mind and her thoughts were vacuumed to the final moments in the mansion, the moments when she had kissed him before forcing herself to plunge the blade into the cold flesh of his abdomen.
The last memory of his eyes gazing at her with sudden surprise seeped through her bones at that very moment. Guilt was beginning to settle once again in both her mind and her beating heart.
What was she going to do? More than anything, she wanted to cry, to scream at the universe until her lungs gave out.
She didn't want to look at him then.
The countless years of unending torture, of suffering. How could she ever bring the words to apologize for what she had done? For what she had to do? All the words in the world wouldn't be enough for forgiveness.
It wouldn't be enough. Not for all of eternity.
She sensed him coming closer, hovering over her, his scent assaulting her nostrils, but she paid no mind to the sensation as the scent brought something that she hadn't felt since her innocence was first lost: safety. She tipped her head, her eyes studying his hardened features, wanting to take the sadness and remorse away from his stricken expression.
A tear began to trickle down his cheek; carefully, lovingly, she wiped it away with a tip of her finger. He brought his lips to kiss the wetness, sending intimate tingles to course through her fiery skin.
How she desperately missed his touch, regardless of its coolness. How she had missed him, in spite of denying her feelings throughout his absence. How could she deny the person that had been a part of her? "Angel," she whimpered, her eyes brimming with those same tears, relief and emotional turbulence swimming through her. "I missed you. God, I've missed you so much. I never thought I'd see you again," she continued, circling her arms around his bare waist as she pressed a kiss to the center of his chest.
For so long, she remained strong and unbroken. Tonight, it was the complete opposite. Before him, she felt as if she was a fragile porcelain doll ready to break into pieces.
"I missed you too," he cried against the crown of her head, tightening his embrace in a protective gesture.
"I'm so sorry. For everything," she pleaded, her lips quivering as her cries deepened into that bare chest.
"You did what you had to. No one could blame you. I don't," he replied softly, his cheek now against hers before lifting her head, his cool lips touching against hers, and in that moment, there was no one in the world but the two of them.
As the kisses grew in hunger, the answer came to her in an instant.
He didn't need to forgive her. There was no need to.
For he had forgiven her the night when his eyes had signaled their last goodbye.
Fin.