Lilah sat at her desk, silently fuming, as she tapped a French-manicured nail upon the oak finish.

Everything had been going perfectly. Wesley had fallen for her charms, and he had been inching closer and closer to her side of the playing field. She had had him right where she wanted him. It wouldn't have been long before he finally joined Wolfram and Hart. He had no reason not to. His friends had abandoned him in his darkest hour, leaving him to wallow alone in his own guilt. Then, she had stepped in and offered him a deal he could not refuse.

Of course, he refused it, but for only so long. Lilah could see him caving with each of their meetings. And after their last encounter, Lilah was quite sure that she had broken him but now….

Now the rules of the game had changed.

Lilah had worked diligently to strip every last bit of humanity out of the man, every last piece of human dignity that remained. Now all her work had apparently been for nothing.

The man still held strong to his principles. She had to give him proper credit for that, but it still irritated her more than anything in the world. She couldn't successfully turn him into a proper Wolfram and Hart insider if he kept acting all noble.

Taking in the woman who had tortured him. What the hell kind of nonsense was that? Lilah wasn't sure exactly what Wesley's plan was, but whatever it was, it was working. She could tell the other night.

Every other night when she had visited him, he had been different. He had been moody, and that had not changed last night, but he had also been a man on the edge. The edge of despair. He was at his breaking point; Lilah could see it in his eyes. Not last night, though. Last night had changed. The despair was gone. He had had the nerve to have some sense of hope. Teaming up with that psychotic bitch had brought the man hope of some sort.

"Bullshit," Lilah fumed quietly under her breath.

She was not going to lose another project. Especially a project that she had been so close to finalizing. No, she would not give the Senior Partners the joy of seeing her fail yet again.

God only knew what another failure would bring her way. She had seen it too many times with her own eyes. An associate would fail, and they would pay gravely in return. Failure meant eating your own liver. Failure meant waking up and finding your family slain. Failure meant never waking up again.

Lilah could not fail again.

"If he doesn't want to play by the rules anymore," she spoke aloud to herself as she reached for her phone, "then I'll just change the game."

**********

Wesley stumbled into the kitchen, his navy robe tied loosely around his waist. He still felt slightly nauseous, as if his stomach was infested with millions of butterflies fighting for their freedom.

He had spent the majority of the night awake, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about the bile that continued to rise up periodically into his throat. He had been awake long enough to hear Faith finally disappear into slumber. She had been up for a while, laughing at a television program, before finally cutting off the TV and relaxing. He had thought about her as he laid in the overwhelming silence of his own apartment. About her apology.

It had surprised him, to say the least. He had thought that the chance had passed. They had danced around what she had done to him during each of their conversations, but never had she made the move to utter those two words— I'm sorry. For a while, he thought she never would. And it wouldn't have surprised him if she hadn't. That was just the way his life worked. He spent almost every second of his life apologizing for some mistake, some misstep, but no one ever did the same for him….

Wesley stopped in the doorway of the kitchen as he watched Faith fuss with his coffeemaker, uttering a few curses in its direction as she fought to get it to work. Taking notice that she was still wearing the midriff tank and low-rise jeans that she had had on the previous day, Wesley quietly slipped out of the kitchen.

When he returned, Faith had finally gotten the coffee machine to work for her. He cleared his throat to announce his presence, and Faith turned to greet him with a smile.

"Hey, it's my favorite Watcher."

"Good morning to you as well."

He approached her, handing her the sixty dollars he had retrieved from his wallet. She raised an eyebrow at him before taking the money in her own hands.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Well, us civilized people prefer to have more than one pair of jeans in our possession."

Faith handed the money back with a slight frown. "Thanks, man, but no thanks. I mean, I appreciate it and all, but I don't do charity."

"Don't think of it as charity," Wesley countered, holding the money up for her. "Think of it as… as a loan. Sooner or later, you'll pay me back."

Faith hesitated a moment before taking the money from his hands yet again. "I guess I could always use a new pair of leather pants," she smirked.

"Couldn't we all," Wesley grinned. He nodded towards the coffee machine as he said, "I see you were able to get the coffeemaker to work for you."

Faith shrugged, shoving the money in her jeans pocket. "Yeah, but I warn you now that there may be a few grounds in your drink. I think your machine is out to get me."

"You believe everyone is out to get you, Faith," Wesley replied, reaching into a cabinet and fetching two coffee mugs. "Care to join me?"

Faith glanced down at her watch before shaking her head. "No thanks. I think I'll just head over to the mall and pick up some new duds. If I go now, I can avoid all the crowds."

Wesley nodded, placing the extra mug on the counter.

"I'll see you after a while," she said before turning and walking out of the kitchen.

Faith hesitated at the apartment door, her fingertips lingering on the cool doorknob, as she listened to Wesley fixing himself a cup of coffee. She glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen doorway, thinking about how Wesley seemed to surprise her time and time again. Offering her a place to sleep, a place to feel safe. Hanging out and sharing drinks with her. Accepting her apology without hesitation, and now, offering her a "loan." How the annoying Watcher who had seemed to care less about anyone but himself had changed into this man, she wasn't sure. She smiled to herself, realizing that she could learn to thoroughly enjoy the company of the new-and-improved Wesley.

Sighing gently, Faith opened the apartment door in time to be greeted by Cordelia, who had her hand raised to knock. Both women stared at each other in silence, each taken aback by the other's presence.

"Faith!" Cordelia exclaimed, her hand never lowering.

"Cordelia!"

"You're out of jail!"

"You're… blonde."

Cordelia unconsciously moved her hand to smooth down her hair. The two women continued to stand in the doorway, silently watching each other.

"Well, I need to get going," Faith finally said, walking around Cordelia and disappearing down the hallway.

Cordelia stood there for a moment as everything began to fall into place quickly. Faith had been the skanky woman that Fred had seen the other day, the woman with whom Wesley was drowning his guilt. She wasn't sure what upset her more—seeing Wesley or seeing Wesley with her.

After a moment, she stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind herself.

"Wesley?" she called out.

Wesley stepped out of the kitchen, tightening the tie on his robe. "Hello, Cordelia."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Cordelia replied, "Hello, Cordelia? That's all you can say?"

"How have you been?" he asked with a shrug.

"Don't, Wesley," Cordelia grumbled, her eyes darkened with anger.

Wesley crossed his arms over his chest with a tilt of his head. "Don't what?"

"Don't get all snide and sarcastic with me. You have absolutely no right." Placing a hand to her chest, she added bitterly, "I'm not the bad guy here."

Wesley chuckled harshly. "So I guess that makes me the bad guy."

Mimicking his stance, casually crossing her arms over her chest, she frowned, "You tell me."

Wesley shook his head slightly with a roll of his eyes. "Why are you even here, Cordelia? What purpose does this little visit of yours serve? Did you all draw straws to see who would be the lucky one to bitch at me this week?"

"I came here because I want answers. Because I deserve them."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Wesley replied darkly. "Because I don't. You had your chance…."

"No, my chance is now, and I demand answers," Cordelia declared without hesitation. "Like why the hell I'm greeted at your apartment door by Faith of all people. You remember what she did to us, right? What she did to you?"

Wesley nodded. "I remember quite well. I used to have nightmares about what she did."

Glancing at the blanket and pillow on his couch, she fumed, "And yet you've decided to be roomies with her."

"Yes, well, I have forgiven Faith for her mistakes," Wesley replied, stepping back into his kitchen.

Cordelia stormed after him, stopping at the end of the dining room table. Wesley sat opposite of her, drinking from his mug.

"I can't believe you had the balls to play that card," she growled, her hands flat against the table as she leaned angrily towards him. "You cannot lay a guilt trip on me about something you did. You brought this on yourself. We could have helped you, but you had to be a damn hero and save the day. We were a team, Wesley. That means that we depend on each other. We just don't go around making rash decisions for everyone."

Cordelia frowned, the disgust evident on her face, as she took a step away from the table. Wesley simply watched her as she declared, "I don't even know who you are anymore, Wesley."

And she didn't. Looking at him, she couldn't grasp who this man was anymore. When she had left for her vacation, he had been Wesley. Her co-worker. Her best friend. Her big brother. He had been the reasonable one. The one she could always depend on to think rationally before jumping into action. He was the one who pulled Angel and Gunn back, their anchor that kept them grounded, but now… She had returned home to find that everything had changed, and apparently Wesley had been no exception.

Her eyes trailing over his darkened eyes and tired face, she wondered what happened to the Wesley she had known and loved….

Sipping from his cup, Wesley replied simply, "I could say the same of you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I thought you were my friend," Wesley replied, placing his mug upon the table. His hand clutched tightly to the body of the cup as he continued. "As I laid in the hospital, I wanted to see your face, hear your voice. I just knew you'd come because we had come so far together. I knew that even if Gunn and Fred both abandoned me, you wouldn't. We had been through too much in Sunnydale and here in LA for you to simply turn away from me.…"

"I'm sorry that I didn't come to your bedside," Cordelia said angrily, "but I was kinda busy comforting my other good friend whose child had just been taken away from him." Cordelia sighed, frustrated, as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "This is wrong. I don't even know why I'm here. I told Fred that it wasn't time yet."

Wesley stood with a bitter laugh, returning to his coffeemaker. "Fred sent you, huh? And here I was thinking that you came on your own free will."

His back to her, Wesley slowly fixed himself a fresh cup of coffee as Cordelia spat, "Wesley, you stole Angel's child."

"I did not steal Connor. I was trying to protect him."

"Protect him? Protect him from what? Fred told me about the prophecy, Wesley. It was fake. Angel was never going to kill Connor."

"Yes, Fred was kind enough to inform me in the hospital," he replied, slowly stirring sugar into his coffee.

Cordelia crossed her arms in response. "You're the one who jumped to the conclusion. You're the one who thought it was a great idea to steal your best friend's child. You know, I have lots of reasons to hate the Powers That Be. I mean, I could make you one hell of a list, but this is one thing that I cannot blame on them. This is all your fault, Wesley."

Wesley gently tapped his spoon on the edge of his cup as her last words stung him. "Isn't it always?" he mumbled. "I have always been the perfect scapegoat."

"You know, any other time, I would be the first one at your defense. I'd be the first one to have your back, but… But right now…" Cordelia paused as she felt her frustration begin to rise within her. "But right now, I hate you…"

Wesley closed his eyes at those words, biting his lower lip.

"I hate what you've done to Angel, to all of us. You've broken so many hearts with one little action, crushed so many spirits." Cordelia held her arms even closer to her body. "I just… I just want to strangle you. Just shake you and ask why…"

Wesley turned his eyes towards the ceiling as he continued to listen in silence.

"I just can't understand, Wesley," Cordelia sighed, finally dropping her arms to her side. "Why would you do this to us? Why would you willingly hand Connor over to a man who could care less whether Angel lives or dies?"

Wesley finally turned to her, the anger evident in his eyes. "Is that what you believe? That I just handed Connor over to that vile bastard?"

Cordelia hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly. "Yes, that's what I believe."

Wesley scoffed in response, shaking his head. "Then I believe that you do not know me as well as you think."

"Then tell me I'm wrong, Wesley," she replied. "Tell me that you didn't visit Holtz behind our backs. Lorne read you the night it happened, and he saw it."

"I did visit Holtz, but not for the reasons you believe. I went to him to tell him to let go of his vendetta against Angel. To tell him that innocent people were going to die if he didn't give up this crusade of his."

"And that's the only reason?"

Wesley simply nodded.

"Then what happened, Wesley? If the big plan wasn't to give Connor to Holtz, then what was it?"

His fresh cup of coffee in his hands, Wesley returned to his seat with a heavy sigh. Following his lead, Cordelia sat down across from him.