In her dreams, the Ancients spoke to Aerith. This was not unusual; the Ancients offered Aerith guidance and hope on many occasions. On this occasion however, she was having trouble deciphering their message.
"Save who?" She spoke aloud, walking down a path, the path she had walked before her death. This time, the sky was gray and the trees were black and weary. The skies and air was still. "Tell me! I can't help unless I know who it is who is in danger! Please!" The Sleeping Forest seemed to lean in toward her, moaning in the breeze. The voices faded to nothing, and Aerith lost contact with the Ancients and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Vincent's dreams were completely different. In his dreams he watched Aerith get stabbed over and over, watching the blood pour out of her chest as her heart was pierced. Over and over he was powerless to stop Sephiroth; over and over he stood there, mouth ajar, fighting the emotions running through him. Over and over, he watched himself transform into the monster, letting his rage overtake his shattered soul. Over and over, he couldn't save her. Rage built up in his sleeping human body, but he subconsciously pushed it away. He couldn't transform; his love wouldn't let him. He wouldn't let Aerith see him as a rampant monster. He wouldn't hurt her in his rage. In the battles they fought together, he never transformed into any of his beasts; terrified of harming her or scaring her with his monstrous form. And now, with her back to stay, he had to keep control. He didn't want her to think he was a cold-blooded monster, even though Vincent knew he truly was. The sins he must atone for were the reason for Aerith's death in the first place.

The repeat of Aerith's death stopped, and he was back in Nibelheim, reliving the past. Vincent's hair was short, and he wore the suit of the Turks – the suit of a sinner. He was alone, armed only with his trusty Peacemaker. He casually walked to a small home on the left, banging on the door with the butt of his gun. There was no answer. Pursing his lips, he kicked the door three times, knocking it off its hinges, and entered.
"I know you're here. Come out." He spoke coldly, devoid of all emotion that a normal human should have. His sensitive ears picked up a sharp intake of breath, and he turned to face it. A middle-aged man and his son were huddled together in the corner. The man stood shakily, pushing the child behind him.
"What do you want with me? I'm just a simple man." Vincent pulled out his pistol and cocked it. The man winced at the sound, and the small child began to weep.
"I have been ordered to kill you."
"No. . .I swear I've done nothing wrong!" Vincent kept an emotionless gaze.
"All I know is I have orders to terminate you." He pointed the pistol directly at the man's head.
"No. . . not here, not in front of my son. . .he's only four. . .please. . .please, my son!" Vincent shot only once, killing the man instantly, ignoring his pleas. Blood spurted from the man's head as his body crumpled to the wooden floor, eyes looking upwards, glassy. Vincent left the home, listening to the young Takamine boy sob and scream for his dead father.

Vincent awoke; sweat pouring down his face as though his was crying. Lifting a hand to his face, he realized he was crying. He marveled at his own tears. He hadn't seen them since...since that day. He immediately wiped his face, but not before a groggy Aerith lifted her head from sleep to look and see what was wrong.
"Vincent, are you alright?" She always was perceptive. Vincent nodded, knowing it wouldn't fool her. He stared at his feet, willing his face to dry. Aerith scooted closer, lifting a hand to rub his naked back softly.
"Vincent." Vincent felt her slight touch and tensed. Yet, he felt at ease when she was near, and calm when she gently touched him. Warmth flooded through him when she spoke to him. There was no way he could deny his feelings, as much as he wanted to. Emotions ran deep within him, conflicting.
"Aerith . . . I know that I care for you, very, very much . . ." He sat quietly, contemplating his own words. He didn't want to hurt her. He felt Aerith's hand stop on his bare back, resting lightly against his muscles. He took a sharp intake of breath, steeling himself to tell her everything. "But...I am powerless. I am a weak monster. I could not save you then, I can not save you now. I let you die, and then I let my emotions control me. I am a beast. I am not fit to be with you." He finished, taking in a deep, shaking breath. He continued to look at the ground. He was mildly surprised when Aerith's hand began its soothing rub again.
"Vincent...it doesn't matter. None of that matters. You are not a monster." Vincent shook his head. She had never seen him transform. She couldn't understand.
"Aerith...you do not know what you are..." She cut him off angrily. He was surprised at her tone – Aerith angry was something he had never seen.
"Of course I do! Did you think I wasn't watching everyone from the Planet? Watching you save everyone? Killing Sephiroth? I saw everything...from Lifestream." Vincent's heart stopped cold. She had seen him. She knew. She knew what a monster he was; she had seen Chaos. He rose curtly to leave before he could do anything more to hurt her.
"You...are not a monster." She said softly to his back. Vincent turned around, his crimson eyes gleaming with rage. Aerith stood her ground, glaring back at him with her sharp emerald ones.
"How can you say that? You saw The Beast! You know my past! I am a monster, screaming for blood! I have no control; I am a murdering monster!" He yelled at her, coming closer, eyes still flashing with anger. Aerith didn't flinch.
"Do you think that what Hojo did to you makes you a monster?" She questioned him. He stopped, pondering. He nodded once, silently, his heart wrenching. "Then, you're wrong." She stated this bluntly, stubbornly. He blinked at her.
"A monster would not have come to save me. A monster would not have been so kind to me during our journey. A monster would not have kissed me so gently. And a monster...would not have cried at my death." Vincent looked away, embarrassed. So, she had seen that too.
"Aerith...I can not assure that you will be safe around me..." Aerith laughed, arching her back and covering her mouth with one hand. Vincent was taken aback at her response.
"Vincent...I feel safest around you, always. I love you." She stated to his face, looking into his crimson eyes. Vincent gazed into her emerald ones. Could he really do this? Was he strong enough to say...
"I love you..." Vincent whispered. Wait, he said it out loud? He heard Aerith sigh happily before throwing her body against his chest, wrapping her arms around him tight. He held her back, gently curving his claw around her body.
"I love you too. I always have." She pulled away to look into his face. "Vincent, believe in yourself. And...believe in me too." Vincent looked into her green eyes, words passing through the air without them speaking. Vincent felt his heart throbbing in his chest. Emotions were overcoming him, joy, relief, lust, love, and more. Here she was - his lost love - here in front of him. He hadn't lost her after all. She was here. She was here with her beautiful smiles to chase away the clouds, here with her innocent eyes to make him smile, here with her quiet knowledge and understanding. She was here, and she wanted him, a dark cloud in the night sky, a demon in a human's body, a ghost among the living. A grin broke out his face. Aerith giggled and reached for him again. Vincent took her slim body in his arms, hugging her close, nuzzling her smooth neck. He used his claw to gently tip her head up. He closed his eyes and leaned in. Lips touched and they kissed passionately, making up for years of separation. Vincent felt something burst from his chest as he recalled fireworks and balloons. He ended the kiss and look down at Aerith. Her eyes were wide with shock, wavering with water.
"Vincent. . ." She pointed at him with a slender finger.
"What is it?" He looked behind him, at his arms, legs. Vincent panicked. He must be transforming, the emotions too strong, too out of control for him to manage. The wings must be sprouting, or maybe the horns…he made to run away, to escape quickly so Aerith would not see the monster within. Aerith forcefully grabbed his hand with her own two, pulling back with all her might. Vincent stumbled to the ground, looking up at Aerith pitifully.
"Come with me." She grasped his hand tightly. He followed her warily until they reached the clear pool, ready to escape once she released him. He must have transformed - the emotional outburst fit, and the way she looked at him explained something was wrong. But why, if he had transformed, was his mind still in control? Why hadn't she run? Why wasn't he on a rampage, looking to kill anything that moved? He pondered this as Aerith brought him to the edge and pointed down at his reflection. He looked down, ready to run if indeed Chaos was emerging. Instead, he looked himself. His raven hair was tied back carelessly. His red eyes looked back at him, wavering in the ripples of the pool. His chest was still white, bare and pale. Only one thing was different...white feathered wings had emerged from his back.
"What the hell..." Vincent's eyes were wide and he reached up an arm to touch the wing. The feathers were smooth and soft. He stroked it, unbelieving. He flexed his back and the wings flapped, creating a gust of wind that rippled the water. Aerith smiled as his expression turned from surprise to confusion.
"Vincent - now you'll believe. You were never a monster. You're an angel." She paused, absently reaching out to stroke his wing. The sensation was beautiful; Vincent reveled in the new sensation. "I saw you that day. When you transformed. While I was going to the Lifestream, I saw you fight for me. Vincent, you're not a monster. I love you, and I always will." She hugged him, maneuvering around his newfound wings carefully. Vincent smiled, realizing her words. He swore to himself that he would always protect her. She wouldn't leave his side this time. Gently kissing her forehead, Vincent lifted her up, cradling her smaller body to his chest. He looked up into the stars, smiling, before he moved his wings gracefully and took them for a flight.