She was gone. Everything that had made her Fred was lost.
It was something he fought against accepting, because if he accepted it, then it would be true, and he couldn't handle the truth.
So, he sat in the dark and drank straight from the bottle until he could sleep without dreams, without memories of her. But that kind of dreamless sleep rarely came, and, instead, he faced her death again and again. Held her in his arms as she slipped away. Watched helplessly as her body convulsed, her soul shattered, dissipated...
"Does this drink make you feel better?"
The voice so stilted, so familiar, shook Wesley from his tormented reverie and he swallowed another slug of whisky before letting the empty bottle slip from his fingers and bounce off the carpeting.
"Go away." His voice was hoarse, gravely, full of anguish and loss.
"Your companions are concerned that you will drink until you die."
"I'm not that lucky," Wesley muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head back into the crook of the winged back chair. "What do you want, Illyria?"
"To understand."
"You'll find none of that here."
"But you were the closest to this shell, this Fred. You were her lover."
A groaning sob broke from him and he clenched his hands into fists around the arms of the chair. "We never had a chance to be lovers. You destroyed her before..." Emotion choked him and he shook his head angrily.
"But, wouldn't it be harder if you had shared that pleasure? That intimacy would have bound you as one, wouldn't it?"
"You come to me for answers about intimacy?" he charged, suddenly angry. "You who are dead inside, with no ability to feel emotion, to care."
"You don't know that. I don't know that. I need to learn, to explore. I am trapped in this body, for now at least, and I must adapt."
"I don't care."
"I could make you," Illyria whispered, as Wesley finally succumbed to the drink and slid into darkness.
Music playing softly, seductively, brought him renewed awareness, and Wesley forced his eyes opened, ignoring the ache behind the lids and in his temples.
"Hey sleepy head."
He was on the bed--her bed--wearing only a pair of trousers. She was curled against him, her fingers lightly dancing across his chest, her long, brown hair curling over her naked shoulders. A flimsy silk chemise rode high on her hip, and his hand slid down to that patch of warm, lightly tanned skin.
"Fred," he breathed, then turned to catch her lips with his. As he rolled her onto her back, slid between her legs, kissed and caressed her, she giggled and stroked him and kissed him back.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
"Oh, Fred."
"Wes, my Wes," she sighed against his lips, her fingers tangling in his hair, massaging his scalp.
She broke your throne,
she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
He found himself on his back, Fred rising over him, rocking against him, making him throb with desire. She pinned his hands over his head and their clothes disappeared.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
They moved together, slowly at first, Fred taking him inside her with one gentle thrust of her hips, but their passion soon took control. They rolled again, turned so her back was to him, and he kissed her over her shoulder as she gripped the headboard and shuddered. His hands caressed her eager flesh, his mouth touched her everywhere he could reach, and he trembled as her cries of pleasure filled his ears.
Remember when I moved in you?
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah
They reached the peak together, crying into each other's mouths as they toppled over the edge, and sunlight filled the room, warming their already heated bodies. Entwined, they collapsed, and as Fred sobbed in joy, Wesley felt his own tears prick his eyes. Their kiss was tender, sweet...
The darkness returned and with it the pounding in his skull. Somewhere the music still played, more ominously, and Wesley lay where he was, unmoving, listening to the words that should be rapturous but instead were empty and cold.
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
"Where did you go?" Illyria whispered. "Where did you go that I can feel such joy from you, and now, such sorrow?"
Wesley forced his eyes opened and found himself on his own bed, fully dressed. His body ached with longing and his fingers instinctively reached for Fred before drawing back into fists against his sides. "Why won't you leave me alone?"
There was a time you'd let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me do you?
Illyria didn't answer, simply stood beside the bed staring down at him, never blinking those unnatural blue-gold eyes. The tears returned to Wesley's eyes and he turned away from her, not wanting her to see his inability to control his emotions. He hated these dreams the most--the ones that taunted him with what might have been, the love they could have shared, the pleasures of her touch.
"I can be her."
Startled, Wesley turned back to her, the tears gone, replaced by shock. His heart pounded in his chest as the possibilities flitted through his alcohol dulled brain, and something tightened in the pit of his stomach.
Pleasure, disgust, some combination of the two, and he was so very tempted.
"You would sleep, then, a normal, restive sleep, and I would understand...something."
"It would be wrong." But the answer seemed forced and the twist of desire grew.
"Wrong, right, these are distinctions beneath me. They can be beneath you as well." She held out a hand and it changed, grew apricot pink and warm, the nails blunt, but painted a light pink.
The tears sprang into his eyes again, but he didn't know why he was crying. For Fred, for the loss of her and what might have been, for himself and this sudden lust and need and fear. In disgust, in horror, in...want.
He closed his eyes and the music washed over him, and he felt like he was falling for eternity.
"I'll catch you."
Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
End