He hated himself. He hated himself because he couldn't help her. because she was dying and he couldn't do a damn thing to help her.

Except what she asked of him.

He knew it would come to this when his Grace couldn't heal her, when every attempt to save her failed. He just could't do it. How could he? He loved her too much to let her go this way. But the infection had taken her.

She wasn't strong enough to fight it, but somehow she managed to hang on longer than the other demons that had been affected. But when the pain became too much she had asked the impossible of him.

She asked him to kill her.

And how could he when he'd lost her so many times before? How could she make him do this? He was angry. He was hurt. He was tired.

He just waned her to be safe.

When her moans of pain became too much he decided it was for the best, that he loved her and to hear her suffer was destroying him more than letting her go would. Which was why he spent time with her, cradling her dying vessel in his arms and pressing his head against hers, saying nothing but holding her.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, shaking from the shock of what he was about to do. "I'm so sorry…"

"Not your fault," she coughed, burning hot hand resting against his cheek, thumb brushing the scruff on his face and he stuttered out a breath, unable to keep up that angelic emotionless wall. He never could with her.

"I love you," the words were so pained, never had she heard the angel so broken, so defeated, as if to him she was worth more than all of heaven and earth combined. That he had so much love for her that it reduced him to shambles.

"I know Clarence," she whispered back, feeling so weak and useless. "I wanna sleep," she rolled in his arms. "Too tired."

"I'll let you sleep," he whispered against her forehead. "I promise. I'll let you sleep."

She muttered something too garbled for him to hear and he summoned his sword, feeling the grace-made weapon hum in his hands.

"Time to sleep," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead before before driving the weapon into her, feeling tears swell his eyes as he did the unthinkable. "I'm so sorry."

Her glow was remarkable.

She shined like an angel, bright, blinding. Beautiful. She didn't scream, just made a noise as she died out, Burning out in a stunning glow of light and darkness before it just vanished, her husk collapsing in his arms, and them nothing.

And he lost control.

Never had the angel lost something like this, never had he felt such loss and emptiness.

It took a few moments for shock to settle in, before he realized she wouldn't open her eyes, stair at him with her opaque jewels and ask him why the fuck he was being such a human about this. He imagined her shoving his face away, calling him an idiot and saying he worried too much, that she'd be fine and all would be well.

But she just laid there, empty, smoke pouring from the body's ears and he felt himself heave, realizing what he'd done and that she was gone.

And then he screamed. Screamed so loud that his true voice escaped and shook the entire bunker to its core, glasses shattering from the force of it.

He didn't care.

How was he supposed to care?

"I'm so sorry," he cried against her body, burying his nose against her cooling neck. "I'm so sorry."

Never before had he loved a creature that much. And never would he again.