A/N This chapter was pain in the ass. It took five times of rewriting, lots of cursing and a half-eaten donut to complete this. :D I hope you find this worth of your time.

Disclaimer: No I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, I'm very sorry.

Fairest in Death

An old and abandoned apartment block was located in the outskirts of the city. Nobody had lived there for years. It was depressingly gray and tall building. Glasses of the first floor were all broken and the doors were kicked in. Doings of the bored kids, supposedly. Every single apartment was small, and few of them were burned too. Doings of the bored kids again, maybe?

The room was located in the second floor.

Room was dark and covered with dust. There were nothing in this room, no furniture, not a single thing. It was empty and lifeless room, long forgotten. Shadows on the walls were only memories left of people, who once have lived here. Only light in the room came through the dusty window.

Bakura stood in front of window, back turned to light.

His figure was tall and proud. His angry eyes were half lidded, focused to darkness. But his anger seemed forced and behind it you could see his sad aura, his fairer self, a fallen angel.

Since this angel had fallen, it was no longer immortal. Now it could be hurt. It could bleed. It could weep. It could show weaknesses. It was no longer perfect, defects could be seen in it. It could hate. It was allowed to hate, allowed to feel emotions. It could drown in it's own hatred and it could die. It could be killed. But it also could be saved. If someone wanted to save the angel, that's it.

Someone didn't want to save the angel. It wanted to hurt the angel. And so angel was being hurt.

Bakura's pierced clothes were painted in bloody red. There were few drops of blood shining in his white hair too. Millennium Ring had lost it's shiny golden color, now it was more like rusty red as it hang on his chest, on his wounds. Bakura's lips were slightly parted and painted dark red with blood. His hands were soaked in it and they hung limply on his sides. Bakura's breathing was fast, almost like panting, but he was silent and stood still, not planning to move. Not a single word escaped his lips. Not single sign of pain was seen, though he was soaked in salty red liquid.

Blood was thick and warm as it pushed from his wounds and traveled down his body leaving red tracks as it went.

Hatred was slowly washed away by blood. It tripped from his fingertips and onto the floor. Bakura was becoming pure. Pure, like an angel he might once have been. Pure and fair, and unbelievably beautiful.

They always said that white was purest of the colors. But they were wrong. Now it could be seen, it really was this bloody red that was the purest. Blood of an angel was the purest. It was so pure it made other things pure too, like Bakura.

When every single drop of hatred was gone from his body, he was pure. His eyes shone with new, sad light. His aura of sadness, normally only seen while asleep, could now be clearly seen. He was beautiful. Wings of an angel appeared on his back. Wings that could fly no more. Once pure and white were the feathers, now soaked in blood. Not a single feather was fully white anymore. Somehow that just added the beauty.

In the pool of blood and hatred stood the fallen angel. Not moving, he waited.

What he waited, came:

Bang!

Bullet pierced through his wings. Wings turned into bloody feathers. They slowly fell to the floor. Wings were gone, and so was his changes of escaping. Now Bakura was really trapped, no way to get out, standing in blood and feathers. Betrayal and disbelief shone from his eyes.

Bang!

Bullet hit his heart. Unwillingly he took a step backwards. One drop of blood rolled from the corner of slightly parted lips and down his cheek.

Time stood still.

One salty tear was shed, to show the weakness of this creature, to show perfection, to show that it had fallen. The tear dried halfway down his cheek. It was gone, leaving nothing but a mere memory. It was only tear ever shed by fallen angel.

And then...

Light disappeared from Bakura's eyes and lifeless body fell to the floor.

On the bed of blood and feathers, eyes closed and heart stopped, lied the fallen angel, fairest in death.

Yami put the gun down.

The End

A/N I think I killed Bakura... *Gives the gun to reader* Feel free to shoot something, or someone, if you want.