Disclaimer: No, I don't any of these characters, unfortunately. Joss Whedon does.

Summary: This basically takes place after End of Days, but it's reflecting back on the whole Connor incident. This was written from Wesley's POV on everything, so enjoy! Read and review, please!

They betrayed me. It's funny now, because you'd think I would have gotten over it a long time ago. I don't get over things, though. Not when they have to do with my friends.

Those words sound so painful now, much more so than when I had to say them over and over again the very first night alone. I was a wreck then, so I suppose right now, the state I'm in is beyond comprehension. Then again, I've been there before, hence there's nothing new.

The hardest thing, however, is the guilt -- the bloody, stupid guilt that has seeped into my black soul and has begun to eat away at it piece by piece. You can't ignore guilt. Oh no. Guilt is one of those pesky emotions that won't go away with the wave of a hand or a good night's rest. A hangover won't even do with its regretful absence from your life.

I've dealt with guilt before, believe me. I've had more failures than I can count, and have always been able to deal with the shame of them. Faith became a horrible killer and went to jail (on Angel's watch, mind you); I was fired from the Council; I betrayed the only people that ever really did care about me.

I do admit that I betrayed them, senselessly. I saw Angel's expression when he found that I had taken his child and I remember how he told me to never come back. Why? All because of a young boy who would later grow up to be…well...I should say, crudely, a mini-Angel. It's a pity the boy couldn't have grown up in a nunnery -- that would've done the world some good.

Connor was always a smart lad. Even when he was no more than a week old, I could see the reflection of intelligence in his eyes. It made me wish with all of my heart that I would one day be as lucky as Angel. Of course, then I screwed the Powers That Be, or maybe they were the ones screwing me. Lately, I've been letting Lilah do that instead.

It makes me sick to think how my life has de-evolved. That's really what has happened, anyway. Instead of living the existence I had longed for, I'm no better than a common thief. In fact, I'm worse than a common thief. Thieves steal money; I steal people's lives.

Angel is almost admirable, in a hateful sort of way. Thinking of him makes my stomach turn as it always bring up that memory of that night. For hours I'll lay awake, still, and turn everything over in my mind -- what went wrong, what mistakes I made, who I hurt.

I hurt Fred. She came into my hospital room and told me how much of a bastard I was. Nasty, annoying, filthy—ahem.  Bitch. I would have loved to have told her off, had I been able to talk. How could I betray you, Fred? How could I have not cared? Love, you are so innocent in the ways of the world. I didn't betray you, and I did care. In fact, all I did was care! I didn't want Angel to die of shame and torment from having killed his son, and you banished me for that. If you had half the brains I had, you would've done the same thing. Hell, you probably would've done worse, all of you.

So why the hell am I the one in pain? The one with guilt? The one who has to sleep with a fucking lawyer to get away from all of that pain for one single second? I'll tell you why. It was a tight-knit group when I entered, and it was even tighter when I left. Life is unfair, and I've learned to deal. Everyone else, on the other hand, hasn't.

Sure, Angel was a soulless monster for a couple of centuries; Cordy lost an Irish bastard and got visions that gave her headaches; Gun was out on the streets for a while; Fred lived in Pylea and didn't leave her room for a month -- did any of them see the darker side of humanity? There's always an exception with Angel, but that exception was destroyed when I found that he fell in love with Cordy. Love changes everything.

I love her, too. I let her yell at me and think of me as a complete jackass because that was what she wanted. She wanted to see me as an evil, corrupt man , while Gun and Angel were the knights in shining armor, the heroes of her world—of her mind. I admit, I've always had a soft spot for that girl, and suddenly I've found that it has grown into love. Denial was always a specialty of mine, so why couldn't it have worked now?

Every time I look at her, I feel like me heart is about to break and I have a hard time holding back the tears. Maybe that's why I'm not "smiley-Wesley" anymore. Or perhaps it is because I have been separated from everyone else because of one mistake that seems miniature to the problem at hand. No one here can let go of anything.

So I've betrayed my friends, lost the girl of my dreams, and even the slut who gave me five minutes of her time. Well, Wesley, you've done very well with your life. Good job, old boy. Bravo. I can just see the ratings now, chap.

It doesn't matter to me, however. After everything I've been through, it just doesn't matter. Pain has become a bit of a daily exercise for me, and I can just drink it away with my coffee. It's quite funny how life turns out. I suppose I'd laugh more if it hadn't been my life.

Then again, looking back on it, I just can't see how this was ever my life in the first place.