The Holy Dark
by Beth C.

In darkness, he truly loved her.

Once the lights were out, and only the lovely mix of moonlight with the city shone through the windows, they would kiss. They could only come together once the sun had faded from the sky.

He called her Lily, stroked her hair, and allowed her to crumble in his arms.

She called him Wesley in a soft voice, and let his tears soak her silk-covered shoulders.

In the light, things changed. He could see himself, he could see the truth. She'd sneer, he'd yell at her, they'd fight in the glare of daylight. Then they'd turn off the lights, turn the mirrors, and they didn't have to see themselves.

Now that there is no light, he wants to cry out to her.

In the sewer, she begged for him to help her. In the dark hours of the day, he wishes he could beg the same.

They move like shadows under a sunless sky, learning over and over again how easy it is to ignore the light in their lives.

Fred found the body. They left Wes to dispose of it.

She's white and bloody, eyes wide in surprise.

She didn't want to be defeated by emotion. He didn't want to be the weak one.

She wasn't going to ask him to be hers. He wasn't going to ask her to change.

He wants to cry but it feels wrong to cry without her arms around him. Besides, she wouldn't want him to cry about her fall.

Even lying on the floor, not yet cold but motionless, she still doesn't seem defeated. She wouldn't give Death the satisfaction. Lilah chose to never let herself go.

Except for Wes. Lilah gave herself to him in the dark.

Maybe that's why he loved her. He was the only one who felt her bend to him.

Maybe that's why he could never tell her. She would stop letting go if she knew.

He shuts her eyes.

He can't say it with her looking.

"I loved you Lilah."


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