Okay, so this is a first. After 3, Cordy's POV, this another first. Wesley's POV. I hope it worked. I don't think it's all bad, but Wes is difficult to write - at least for me. Wesley is a complicated character with a lot more layers than those we've seen so far. So, be kind. Hope you like it, and tell me what you think. Oh, and thanks to all of you for your great feedback and reviews. It's appreciated immensely. You cannot know what feedback means to a writer … well, if you're a writer yourself you probably do. It's like a shot for an addict. And it gives you the courage and the spirit to go on. So thanks again. You are wonderful!
Disclaimer: oh please, as if I even want to own them these days
Category: Angst/Drama
Pairing: B/A, mention of C/A, D/A, B/R, B/S
Rating: PG-13
Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), ffnet, several lists including BA_Fluff, if you have any of my stuff, just take it, anybody else please tell me where it goes
Spoilers: the whole Buffy-Angel-Saga, I have, however, not seen the latest episodes (I didn't want to be spoiled for another story I was writing), but it doesn't really matter for the story (I've heard rumours though), and you should read the first stories in the series called "Empty", "Frozen", "Dawn", "Cold", and "Breath".
Summary: Wesley's thoughts and some more talking, Wesley's POV
Timeline: a month after Connor disappeared
Feedback: oh yes, please!!!
Dedication: This is for all of you who sent feedback for the previous parts of the series, and who still believe in Buffy and Angel, the way I do. You are the best.
Author's Note: I am a B/A-shipper, and in my book there's only one person who could help Angel in a situation like this. So if you are C/A or B/S, then just turn away now. You've been warned. And if you still want to send flames - send them on - I will forward them directly to Marti Noxon, David Greenwalt, and Joss Wheadon for what they're taking us through with this season.
Author's Note 2: I won't go into detail, but you still might get spoiled for season 6/3
Author's Note 3: For this story, Connor has disappeared and although the fang-gang has tried finding a way to get him back, all has been in vain.
And once more with the author's notes: Don't worry, I will continue all the other stories I'm currently writing. I promise. But I have the sudden urge to write this. I can't help it. It just pours out of me and so all I can do is go with the flow. < g >
Author's Note 5: I have neither seen the episode, nor read the transcript of the last Angel-episodes. I know Connor has been abducted, but I haven't read the details. And I only heard rumors about Cordy's vacation with Groo. Any faults because of it are mine, but as this story is mine, too, well … you get the point. I hope you'll enjoy nevertheless

I watch Buffy climb up the stairs, my heart heavy, my eyes tired from lack of sleep. Will she be able to help Angel, I wonder? Can anyone help? Some years ago I would've said it was possible. They were close once, tight even. But time has passed and I'm not so sure anymore. Is their connection still there?

When I came to Sunnydale and discovered that the Slayer I had come to supervise was in love with a vampire, I was shocked, to put it mildly. When I realised her former watcher had been silently accepting the affair, I was speechless. It went against everything I'd been brought up to believe, against everything I'd been taught. I called the watcher's council immediately, but all they told me was that they were aware of the situation, they were even tolerating it, for the sake of the world, they put it.

My world came tumbling down.

Only when I got to know Buffy, and later when I was able to get closer to Angel, I realised how arrogant my behaviour was. Pompous and ignorant I only saw what could be seen on the surface, never tried to look beyond. It was so much easier to hold onto my prejudices, than to question my behaviour and change my ways. It's no consolation that my behaviour was very human, that a lot of people act that way, every hour, every day. If anything it makes me feel worse. For once because the world's not going to get any better that way, and then … I've always wanted to be better than the rest of them. I've failed - in so many ways - and a vampire, a creature of the darkness, a demon, has shown me all my shortcomings.

Sighing I give the stairs a last, long look, then walk over to the counter where Cordy is stilly busy with papers. Or trying to look that way. While I'm watching she shuffles them from left to right, and barely finished she moves them back to their initial position. I glance at Gunn who is watching her, too. "You think she's ever going to stop?" he asks, smiling at Fred who is standing near by. I'm still not quite able to grasp the concept of those two being a couple. But somehow - strange as it might be - they fit. They both came a long, rough path to where they are. They were both lost in a way I just begin to understand, and it has drawn them to each other, has bridged all their differences.

Before I can respond, Codelia's head comes up and she glares - first at him, then at me. I'm not even aware why I'm included, but then, I've long stopped trying to understand her motives. That's not to say that I haven't seen the changes in her, and most of them for the better. I was fascinated by her when I came to Sunnydale, too full of myself to see her faults, too arrogant to see that she was desperately trying to hide behind a shell, behind the façade of the superficial, rich girl she never really was.

Of course that isn't really true. She was a rich girl, born to more money a person can count, but also to a loveless home, to parents who gave her everything except what she craved most. As a result she learned early to hide her feelings, to act as if everything was perfectly normal. I know all about it. I've been there myself. And I've come a long way, too.

Suddenly aware of the directions my thoughts have taken, I quickly look away, feeling heat creeping up my spine. No way I want anyone to know that I'm still attracted to Cordelia, certainly not right now where everything around here is in turmoil. Besides, I don't have a right to think that way. Thanks to a sudden lapse into my former arrogance I've caused Angel to lose what he treasured like nothing else on this planet, something he never dreamed to have. Thanks to me he had a glimpse, only to have all that happiness ripped away from him.

A few years ago I wouldn't have cared, how should the pain of a vampire concern me, but now Angel is my friend, and the knowledge that I caused him all that pain is tearing me apart.

I wish I could talk to him, wish he would listen, wish he'd let me explain, but know at the same time that this is just the selfish wish of my tortured conscience. I don't think about Angel when I have the urge to talk to him, but of me, of my own pain, my own grief. I want his forgiveness because the guilt is killing me. It keeps me awake night after night, it makes me look the other way whenever Angel is near. If I could I would give my life to change what has happened, but unfortunately nothing can reverse time. Nothing will bring Connor back, nothing will give Angel back his son. An I'm afraid nothing will ever give me back the peace of my soul.

"Where are you going?"

I look up, realise that Cordelia is looking at me from the counter, and only now I realise that I've been unconsciously moving towards the stairs. I blink at her, trying to focus. "I … I," I gaze up, then back at her, shrug, "I'm not really sure." Why am I standing near the stairs? Has my unconscious been pulling me here? Is it guilt?

For a moment her eyes are full of compassion, and she gives me a glimpse of the woman she is underneath, but then they grow stern, and her chin comes up, "Wes, this has to stop." Her voice is firm, but I can still see a hint of concern in her expression.

I don't know what to say to her. Don't know what they want me to do. So I simply shrug again, averting my eyes. What could I say, anyway? There is no hope in words. Certainly no forgiveness. Angel taught me that - like so many other things. I wonder if there is forgiveness at all? Is that how Angel feels sometimes? That however hard he tries, it'll never be enough? How is he able to live like that?

I can hear someone walking around the counter, towards me, - Cordelia, then - at a little distance, but still too close - she stops. "You two have to talk."

God, yes, I want to talk to him. More than anything, I want to talk to him. And I want him to talk to me. I want him to look at me, and want to be able to look right back. Without shame, without guilt. I suddenly realise what it costs Angel to get through every day in his long life. My guilt is nothing compared to what he's been carrying around for over a hundred years. He might not have been the one committing the crimes of his demon. But can remember them. And his body is still the same body.

In sudden horror I look at my hands, turn them around, gaze at my palms.

"Stop it, right now!"

Cordelia's voice is so sharp my head comes up with an almost audible snap. "Wha- what?" I stammer. I know that tone in her voice, but she hasn't used it for a while and it surprises me to hear it now. That doesn't sound like Cordelia she is these days. Not as a rule anyway.

"I know you feel guilty for what has happened to Connor. And yeah," she sighs, then runs a hand through her hair. For the first time I realise it's blond these days. Almost the same colour than Buffy's. If I wasn't so preoccupied with other things, I would've realised it earlier, because it's actually quite disturbing. But it looks great, too. Like the rest of her. There is an awful lot I like about Cordelia, I realise, a lot more than I found attractive when I met her first, and I feel deeply disturbed by the sudden revelation.

"You changed your hair." The words just tumble out of my mouth, and she stares at me as if I'd gone mad. And maybe I have. I haven't slept for weeks, it wouldn't be a surprise. My mouth suddenly goes dry, just looking at her. Being near her. If that isn't madness …

She blinks, then slightly shakes her head. "Yeah, I have. So what? Don't you like it?" Instantly she holds up a hand, "No, I don't even want to know. Groo likes it. He thinks it's a royal colour, but that's not the point here…"

A royal colour? Can a guy get any weirder. What in bloody hell does she see in that overgrown pack of muscles and pea brain? Okay so he has a gorgeous body, even I have to admit that, but what are you going to talk with a man like Groo? Well, probably they don't talk a lot, I think nastily, and hate the idea of her being intimate with a Schwarzenegger miniature. No, screw that. I hate thinking of her with any man.

"… are you even listening?"

The words, spoken in a steadily rising voice, bring me back to reality. "What?"

She glares, her beautiful eyes filled with annoyance, throws her hands in the air. "Why do I even bother? This can't go on, Wes. I know you feel guilty, and it's okay. I mean, I would feel guilty, too. But at a certain point it's enough. You have to talk to Angel." She glances at the stairs, "Just not right now."

"I just … wanted to see if they are alright," I admit, realise at the same moment that I'm helplessly in love with Cordelia, and the confusion of my thoughts almost brings me to my knees. How am I going to deal with this sudden insight on top of everything else?

I desperately try to think about something. Anything. But she's so close, right in front of me, the heat from her body touching my skin like a sweet caress. I feel my pulse quicken.

"I know," she replies, and I need a moment to get back to our conversation. Or was it a conversation? And what the bloody hell am I doing? Fantasising about Cordelia while my friend is not able to deal with the grief of losing his son. A grief I am responsible for.

That brings me back on track faster than anything else. My pulse slows down instantly, my skin cools, my mind shuts down. Connor. Will I ever be able to think about that name and not feel chilled to the bone?

"I know," she repeats, gesturing at the stairs, "but Buffy's with him right now.

Maybe it's for the best." She sighs wearily, and for the first time I see the dark shadows beneath her eyes. For a moment a little voice in my head taunts me with new images of Cordelia and Groo, but they subside quickly, and without the jealousy I'm able to see the deep concern. And something else, "Who called her?"

"I did," she says without hesitation. "We all tried…," another weary sigh, and a shrug, "and it was for nothing. So I thought … I hoped…" Her final sigh shows all the worry she's obviously been storing inside. It shows more than anything that there isn't a lot left of the old superficial Cordelia with the flippant remarks, the hurting insults.

"I see," I nod, not seeing anything at all, but slowly beginning to understand. It must have cost her a lot to call Buffy, to push all her pride aside, and admit that there was nothing we could do. And how wise she acted in calling the little blond Slayer. Buffy has seen Angel at his worst. He never talks about it, but he couldn't have been a pretty sight coming straight back from Hell. She's been there then, and she's here now. Maybe that's exactly what he needs.

There was always that special trust between them. I've seen him suffer after the disaster with Faith, when she turned her back on him and left, when they exchanged hurtful words, when he stood there with his soul bare in his eyes. I've seen the raw pain, and the urge to go after her, to take her in his arms. A lot has happened since then. There was Darla, then Connor, but I'd be a fool if I doubted even for a moment that there's still something between them. That kind of love doesn't die easily.

And it has been special. That I've been an arrogant bastard didn't mean I haven't seen it. That special connection they shared, and maybe - hopefully - still share. The intimacy they had, the sort that goes far beyond the physical, something they weren't allowed to live anyway. No, it had been something deep, profound. An understanding. Between warriors, between friends, and lovers. It didn't matter that they couldn't show their love by acts of physical intimacy.

And it was that deep knowledge that they shared, something nobody else could understand. The darkness that was, and still is, so much part of their lives.

They might be both surrounded by friends, but in the end being a warrior is exceptionally lonely. For a short while were able to shake off that loneliness by being together. Torn apart by a cruel curse, they were again condemned to live that loneliness. But that didn't mean their connection would ever break. And it hadn't. Not if the look in Buffy's eyes only moments ago is any indication.

And maybe that love, that connection, is going to save him. Maybe he can open up to her, trust her, in a way he obviously isn't able to trust us. And again it hits me how much Cordelia has grown, being the one to call Buffy. She was able to act while I was too wrapped up in my own grief and guilt to see anything but myself. I cannot lay any blame on Gunn or Fred, neither of them know Buffy, have seen the love between the Slayer and the vampire. But it should have been me, I should have thought about a way to help Angel, and yet it was Cordelia.

Did I really once refer of myself as Angel's friend? I certainly didn't act like one lately.

As if punched in the gut, I suck in my breath. It's time I remember that. Remember that Angel is my friend, and that I am his. God, unlike Cordy I've been so blind, so ignorant. Such a stupid idiot. I just went on watching Angel suffer, without trying to find a way to help. Cordelia, at least, picked up the phone and called the one person who has a chance to get through to him.

My eyes fall upon the closed door of my office, and my thoughts wander to the books behind it. A lot of books, old books, holding knowledge as old as mankind. Books of demons, of people, of Slayers. Books of prophecies, and books of spells.

I feel my pulse quicken again when it suddenly hits me. My gaze whirls back to Cordelia, and without contemplating it, I reach out and take her hand, pulling her with me, while walking towards my office, ignoring her protests. "I just found a way to help Angel," I announce, and see Gunn and Fred looking in my direction with interest.

"I just told you, Wes," Cordy protests, without luck trying to get her hand free from my grasp, "Buffy is going to help him. Or at least I hope she is."

"Yes, I know," I reply, opening the door, "That's not what I mean. I'm talking about the long run. Real help. We've all been so blind. Such idiots. We can help him. Really help him. Why didn't we think about this earlier?"

"What?" she asks, her voice rising. I finally release her hand, and she rubs her wrist, but I'm too excited to feel sorry for probably causing a bruise on her flesh.

"Don't stand there. You, too," I address Gunn and Fred. "We'll need to do this together. It's of the utmost importance."

"Are we going to find a way to get Connor back?" Fred asks with new hope in her eyes.

I pause, close my eyes for a moment. No, I won't fall back into despair. This isn't about me. It's about Angel. I forgot about it for far too long already. "No," I tell her sadly. "We tried everything, remember. But maybe … maybe we can give Angel something else." I pause, and in turning my head I see them watching me. "Maybe we'll be able to give him hope. And … love."

"Love?" Cordy's left eyebrow rises, and suddenly understanding dawns in her orbs. "You mean-" She stops, her voice a bit breathless, and I see true delight in her eyes. And I know without doubt that I've never loved anyone the way I love her this very moment.

"Yes. At least we can try. We never did, did we?" I give her a smile and she smiles right back.

"Did, what?" Gunn tilts his head, confusion evident in his expression.

"We're searching curses. And soul spells," Cordy replies, already scanning the shelves. "And gypsies. Romanis especially." After a moment's hesitation Gunn nods and he and Fred start to rummage through books as well. I turn to my own section of the shelves, glad that nobody can see the moisture in my eyes. Maybe I just found a way - not to ease Angel's grief, because I can't bring Connor back - but maybe to make his life less lonely.

Maybe this is a way to prove I'm still his friend.

Thanks for reading! Now - what do you think? Is it all bad??? Or - hopefully - not? Please tell me. Please send feedback.

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