prodigalwatcher: (All Alone in the Night - 10000pixels)
It is one of the more curious truths about human psychology that for most people, there is rarely anything so intriguing or enticing as the forbidden. That which we are not allowed-- whether it be by social mores, religious proscription or simply accidents of situation-- is almost invariably that which we desire the most.

I was not, truth be told, a hero; only, perhaps, capable of a few heroic deeds on occasion, but she was undoubtedly a villain.

Lilah Morgan. Beautiful and sharply intelligent. Ruthless, vicious, conniving and as deadly as a viper. She was a woman who had beheaded her superior at Wolfram & Hart, and had attempted to cause, if not always the demise, then surely the defeat, of Angel and all of us at the firm more than once, and all with as much remorse as one would feel stepping on an ant. The phrase "cold-hearted bitch" was bandied about often, and as I understood, by her colleagues as well as her enemies.

Is it any wonder that when my life had taken its worst turn, when I'd been made pariah by the very people I called family, that Lilah's appearance had piqued more than just my professional interest?

At my proverbial rock bottom, Lilah had intended to use my newfound lonely bitterness to the advantage of her firm-- to recruit me into the fold of Wolfram & Hart, away from those who'd abandoned me. My first reaction had been all the revulsion for the idea I could summon. As it turned out, that wasn't very much at all. At least, not for the offer.

For the messenger, though, I found myself feeling quite a bit of anger and resentment at the very idea I would debase myself by working for the firm. At the same time, I remember thinking, I had only a little further left to fall, and no reason to not. I don't recall now what had finally sparked my interest in that which was supposed to be bad and wrong, nor what had similarly pushed her into wanting to literally sleep with the enemy, but it wasn't long between that bar and my bed.

Good relationships, I am told, are meant to provide a kind of cycle of affection and support; one partner gives to another so they might prosper and then return that gift. Lilah and I together were more a case of Mutually-Assured Destruction, a cycle of self-loathing and resentment.

That, though, was the part of the relationship that I could handle. It wasn't until I started caring that things grew truly dangerous.

That was when I started to imagine that there was a person beneath the designer suits and icy façade. That was when I began to wonder if that person was worth turning from an evil path, and whether I could do so. It made me try, and that could have cost me my very soul.

Lilah was not love, not in the sense I want it to mean. Love shouldn't allow me to also hate-- hate what she did, hate what she represented, hate what she made me think. Love shouldn't be an extension of a man's want to live in the gray areas, between right and wrong, and shouldn't be a self-inflicted punishment for straying too close to the latter. But I did want her to live, did want to save her.

I couldn't, because in the end, Lilah didn't want to be saved.

But I wanted to, which means I cared.

And I've learned there is nothing more dangerous than that.


prodigalwatcher: (Default)
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

February 2014

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