A/N: After four years of desperately wanting to, I finally saw the stage production of Beauty and the Beast. It was SO beautiful, and I was very much inspired from watching it come alive before my eyes!

So when I wrote this, and when I write for the other characters (Cogsworth, Lumière, Mrs. Potts, and Belle, in that order), in my mind, I had the servants being humanoid objects slowly becoming more object-like (stiffer, colder, etc.), like in the stage musical.

I hope you enjoy!

Beast

The trio of servants stared in shock and awe at their master's words. He could barely look at them for shame.

"Y—You what?" Cogsworth stammered softly.

"How could you do that?" Lumière blurted, horrorstruck. The Beast shut his eyes at the betrayal he detected in the maître d's tone.

"I had to," he breathed almost pleadingly. It was difficult enough he had felt caught between two unbearable choices, but there had been only one that had truly been the right one, that he knew was right in his heart. It was the hardest decision he had ever had to make, the repercussion being… none of them would ever be human again.

"But… why?" Cogsworth questioned. The Beast could tell the clock was trying to grasp for the logic behind his actions, to understand, and failing.

She missed her father, he wanted to say, but couldn't gather his own voice. I wanted to reassure her and help, but… How was he to have known her father was lost in the woods, and ill? It was all my fault to begin with. I wanted to make it right. I wanted to do the right thing for once. Just once. Especially for her.

Mrs. Potts was the only one who had remained silent. If she thought he had made the wrong decision, that he had unnecessarily doomed them to a fate none of them no longer deserved… then he would feel worse than wretched.

Gathering up all of the courage he could muster, he looked to the teapot. At the maternal expression he had come to depend on, he found himself finally able to breathe.

She smiled lovingly at him, her eyes shining. "After all this time," she admired with pride, "he's finally learned to love."

"Then that is it then!" Lumière entreated eagerly, grasping at straws. "That should break the spell!"

Mrs. Potts regretfully shook her head, officially snuffing out anyone's last hope with her words. "It's not enough. She has to love him in return."

The candelabrum faltered. The Beast could see his mind racing to explain, to contradict what was obviously their last chance at deliverance, but he was speechless.

"And now it's too late," Cogsworth concluded with a finality that made everything seem the more real.

This was the end. They would all be inanimate objects by midnight, and he… Would he become a true beast? Would all of the humanity be stripped of him too, and he would be just this… animal?

He gripped the edges of the bench, his claws digging into the stone as he listened to the servants' footsteps clink and clank from the balcony back into the castle.

He couldn't imagine what would be worse: living with the fact that his servants—who in better or worse had stayed loyal to him, who had been as close to a family as he could remember—would be frozen in their forms, and that he would be aware of all his losses; or forgetting about everything that made him a man, forgetting about Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, Lumière, Chip, forgetting about Belle… for good, and potentially becoming the raging monster that fit his exterior.

Would the servants be aware while they're immobile? Would their souls be imprisoned, unable to move on? Were they even free to die as he was? Was their fate to watch dust collect and rust accumulate for years, for centuries?

The Beast pulled at his mane, his nails tearing at his skull. I don't know… I just don't know!

Regret welled in his chest. Why hadn't he thought of this before he had let Belle go? He should have tried harder for them. He had an entire household he could have freed, and now she was gone. She was GONE.

Snatching at the bannister tightly beneath his paws, the animal in him howled in pain. Birds flew from their perches in the trees and scattered away from the noise. He could hear the echo of his roar extend to the farthest reaches of the forest. And yet he was sure no one could hear him…

Except maybe Belle. She was probably still galloping on her horse to find her father, but she wasn't going to return. Her father came first. Why would she choose the beast who incarcerated both of them over her own flesh and blood? Even her father was ill because of him. The Beast could understand her choice. He could.

And he had made his.

Belle.

He couldn't hope for her to come back, especially not knowing what he would be after midnight. He would never want her to see him become this creature, unthinking, unfeeling, unable to recognize her as a friend, as the girl he loved. With his humanity gone for good, he could hurt her, as easily as the wolves, and there would be no one able to rescue her from harm.

No. She can't ever return.

But why would she? Surely this place harbored bad memories, memories she would never want to relive. He had kept her there against her will. She deserved a choice, she deserved freedom.

And that was exactly what he had given her. More than anyone, Belle deserved a life that she was free to make on her own. She was smart, kind, witty, generous, understanding, passionate—She was beautiful in every possible way. She deserved everything she wished for.

He had wanted to be the one that provided everything for her, the one that made her wishes come true. But without the curse broken, he was limited. He could only provide what he already had. And in his mind, that wasn't enough. It couldn't ever be enough.

The curse wouldn't have broken if he hadn't let her go. He was sure she only loved him as a friend. What could the mere hours left have done to change her feelings? He couldn't believe he had almost fooled himself otherwise.

Having returned to the West Wing, the last petal of the enchanted rose dangled feebly from its stem. Outside, rain began to shower, but it was steadily growing heavier. He hoped Belle had found her father and made it home in time, that she was safe and warm.

He stared morosely at the rose, its glow having dulled dramatically. Now all that was left was the waiting. The waiting for the end, however that would be.

The Beast released a slow breath, wishing it could be his last. Let it be done…