Title: On the Night Side of Eden

TV Show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Author: Beloved Slayer

Rating: T

Summary: On Christmas day, Angel returns from the hell dimension an entirely different being. Can the lonely Slayer convince him that the love she has for him is real and not merely a lie? One-shot.

Author's Notes: Most of season three never happened in regards to Buffy and Angel's relationship. This is a unique rewrite of when Buffy entered the mansion to leave the claddagh ring because I didn't particularly enjoyed the scene, heh. Despite the holiday cheer going around, this is not a super fluffy story. All feedback is appreciated, and don't worry, my other stories will be updated after the Christmas holiday. Happy Christmas, Chrimbo, Kwanzaa, Yule, etc, other holidays you celebrate guys. Enjoy!

Chapter One

On the outskirts of town, the mansion remains boarded, abandoned, close to dilapidation. It is lifeless, cold, and empty; beyond restoring, the exteriors covered in various markings of graffiti, warning passersby of rumored ghosts lingering. For the hundredth time in weeks' past, it didn't prevent her from approaching its heartbreaking state of decay.

The apartment he had once occupied was no longer there, and the mansion became the sole resting place of the memories it held within its unstable grasp.

The memories of herself and that lost love were still buried within the shattered stone walls. Without hesitation, she enters through the double doors, ready to break apart from the loose hinges at any given moment.

The air smelled strongly of residue; a dank scent wafting around her. Her nose crinkled in response, her body fighting to remain neutral, emotionless. But she knew better than to contain herself. It wouldn't be long before she felt the wetness in her eyes blurring her vision as she carefully entered the living room. Pale curtains billowed around her, breaking the quietness that enveloped as the room filled itself with the brutality of the cold wind, sending shivers to course through her body. It didn't prevent her from wanting to speak.

Anything was better than silence. It was better than the alternative.

"Angel, it's me again. I know, I should stop coming here, right? I think it's my billionth time already, but I couldn't help myself. I didn't want to be alone. Especially with this being Christmas and everyone not being here besides myself," she hesitated before continuing, her lips curling. "I dreamt that one day, you and I could spend our first holiday together. I dreamt of it not too long after when we first met actually." She began to pace back and forth, her eyes glancing at where Acathla had once stood. She sobered almost immediately, forcing the memory away.

"I guess you know what happened. Not a happy ending it turned out to be after all, huh? You were right. This wasn't a fairy tale. And I didn't listen."

She inhaled through her nose, a strange sensation overcoming her. She was on the brink of coming apart. "Anyways, I wanted to let you know…I wanted to let you know that I miss you. I can't describe it exactly; it's too damn hard to put it in words because it's never enough. I think about you every morning, and I think about you every night. I hate that it still hurts. That you can still hurt me even when you're gone." She clawed a hair through her hair, eyes focusing on the unlit fireplace before her.

"I wanted to let you know that…that…I love you. I always will. But I have to try to put all of this behind me. I'll see you again, someday. Wherever you are." She stopped, her lips quivering as she swept a tear from her eye in a furious motion, splashing on the hard floor below her.

She steadied herself, preparing to leave as she whirled towards the double doors when she sensed that she was no longer alone. "Hello?" Nothing. Turning once more to the living room, caution rose her Slayer senses to full alert.

A shuffling in the near darkened corner startled her. A scuffling of feet signaled that the presence was human. "Hello? Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." She raised her hand towards the being, the upper body covered in a sack that was flitted with rope. When she approached it, the body cowered away from her in fear.

"Stay away," the familiar male voice warned, his voice a low growl.

Could it be…?

"I won't hurt you," the Slayer bellowed, crouching to her knees, her eyes penetrating the shadowed form as her hand reached out towards i. It felt as if eternity had passed before it abruptly took her hand, it's head leaning against the warm palm in a soothing motion, the face revealing itself under a direct beam of moonlight that entered through the garden's broken doors.

"Angel," she whispered in both surprise and horror, studying his gaunt expression; the injuries, dried blood, and markings that encased his worn down body, the despair and cautious joy brimming in his chestnut eyes as he carefully crawled towards her, his eyes counteracting with suspicion. Protectiveness and anger rose within her for what had been done to him.

She took him into her lap, her hand caressing his features as their eyes locked into one another. "You're not gonna hurt me, are you?" He asked warily, his eyes narrowing into slits as he attempted to distance himself from her. "Why would you think that?" Buffy didn't pretend that she wasn't taken aback by the insinuation.

What the hell did that dimension do to him? she wondered precariously in thought.

'I…they told me that you sent me there…that you killed me, and that you didn't care about me as long as the world was saved. They told me that you never loved me," he stated, but not without anger as he pushed himself away from her as quickly as it had come.

"How could you even think that I never loved you? You're the only thing in the world that makes sense to me. Angel, that's never gonna change."

"Angel? Is that my name? I don't remember." He recoiled even further, confusion written across his face. "You don't remember your name? Do you remember me? Do you remember us? What we had?" Buffy pressed, an eyebrow raised in conjunction.

"How could I forget? But they convinced me that your love was not real; that it was a lie planted in my head. And I fell for it." This time, he began to cry, his body shuddering, vulnerable, as if he was a child and not merely a man who had endured years of endless suffering at the hand of his torturers.

Something else was tugging at the ends of the Slayer's mind, but more important matters were at hand that needed to be discussed. "Shhh. Come here," she ordered in a gentle manner, patting her thigh, her eyes full of love for him. "You won't hurt me?" He questioned once more, wrapping his bruised arms around his legs.

"How could you even think that? I love you so much. Now please, come here. I won't bite. I promise." After a moment's silence, he reluctantly nodded his head, returning to the only place where he had felt slightly safe in more than a hundred years' time: in her arms. Quickly, she began to slide her hand down his cheek, accessing the minor cuts, not hesitating to place a small kiss to the tip of his forehead, silently vowing that whoever had brought him pain and misery would soon regret it at the hands of the Slayer.

To her sudden surprise, his skin felt warm to her. Almost as if he were alive, and not merely the cold vampire she had come to know and love.

"How did you escape?" Out of curiosity, she wanted to know.

"Somehow, I was able to break free, when they weren't looking," he answered weakly, his head nestling into her right arm. She circled her arms around his lower waist, bringing him closer to her embrace.

He held on to her as if he didn't want never to let go.

"Care to tell me why you feel so warm?" she continued with an impish smile.

"They wanted to make up for what shouldn't had happened," he replied with a cough.

"They?"

"Fate themselves. The Powers That Be."

"So, this is real? My hands feeling your warmth, the way your pulse is beating?" Buffy's voice rose an octave.

"Everything. Buffy, I've always loved you. Even when I was imprisoned, my love for you never stopped. Not for anything. Not even the demons could take it away, no matter what they did to me. The passing nights and days, my thoughts would always drift back to you. You were the only thing that was keeping me alive," Angel confessed, rising to his knees as his eyes captured her gaze, despite the inflicting pain.

"As was me. There was never a moment when I didn't think about you. I felt so guilty for what I did…." She focused her attention elsewhere, the guilt that she had buried rising to the surface.

Angel pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't be. You had to do what had to be done." Before she could deny his answer, he silenced her with a kiss, the blood drenched across the soft pink flesh tasting of supple copper to her tongue, but she didn't paid it no mind.

He was alive; heart beating, pulse pumping, protected in her arms.

Nothing else in the world mattered. And if this was a small token from the Powers for the sacrifices she had made in an attempt to protect the world from evil, then so be it. Against the perils of the demonic world, she would no longer be alone in the battle as the world's sole savior.

"Tell me this is not a dream," she pleaded between passionate kisses, the tips of her fingers pressing softly against his warm flesh. It had felt like ages since that last fateful kiss, the kiss that she would rather repressed.

"No. Not at all," he muttered, pressing her against him. "Do you want to stay? We can go somewhere else," he offered, the love in his eyes returning.

"There's no where else I rather be. I wanna be here with you." She nuzzled herself against his neck, her hand against his chest as she felt his heart beat.

It was a beautiful sound.

"Welcome home, Angel."

Fin.