It hadn’t failed to strike Wesley that Fred was understanding and honest and good. Even as Cordelia said the words, Wesley knew they did him few favors, other than to confirm what he had already attempted to tell himself; that he hadn’t been wrong. He also had the benefit of knowing that even if he hadn’t specifically done something wrong or set out intending to hurt someone, that it didn’t stop them from being hurt anyway. Loneliness was a killing drug, destroying slowly over time, plucking at confidence and self-satisfaction until little remained but an empty shell. Shell. Fucking god, he hated that word. He wished it were a physical thing that he could crush under fist, throwing it a way so that it might never be uttered again, by him or anyone else.
"…And even if she wasn’t, I’m telling you right now, you had no way of knowing she was going to be back."
Nope. No way of knowing at all, but he might have believed. He could have believed. He hadn’t had to shut himself down like a shop on Christmas Day. Wesley knew the truth of why he had, why even when Angel had been attempting to contact Willow to seek her help in restoring Fred’s soul, Wesley had merely said that she was gone and followed the path of revenge instead. Better to hope for nothing and be proven wrong than to hope for something and be proven right. “No,” he agreed dully, “but it seems to be a given for members of our group, doesn’t it? You, Angel, Fred, Spike, Buffy… me. Back from the dead. Or hell. Or heaven. It wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility. I told myself it was, so I could survive.” That wasn’t a bad thing. It was human nature, to create an armor for yourself, coping mechanisms that allowed you to live and move in the world. He couldn’t wait. It was beyond what was expected of him, and yet, there was guilt, rearing its ugly head, whispering doubts in his ear.
“Don’t blame yourself for any of this, okay? None of this is your fault. You thought—hell, we all thought Fred was gone for good. By waiting for her you would have missed out on a great woman like Penelope. And I know I can speak for Fred when I say that she wouldn’t have wanted you to wait around forever for something that was most likely not going to happen. She would have wanted you to move on with your life, and to find happiness again.”
People chatted at other tables, a door swung open and closed, noodles and rice and meats sizzled in woks in the kitchen area behind them, people clinked their glasses together in celebration, and yet, for Wesley, Cordelia was the only thing that existed in the room. As she spoke, she drowned out all other occurances, begging his attention be dedicated solely to her. She spoke in a way that told Wesley to listen, and listen good. Her voice was soft and meaningful yet behind it was the quiet insistence that she was right, and if he argued otherwise, she would smack him upside the head. “I know,” he said, finally. “I still wish it were easier, for all of us, but I suppose that’s unavoidable now.”
Wesley had never seen evidence of an almighty God. In fact, what he had seen was the contrary. He had seen evidence of several, from different dimensions and times, with different motivations, but in spite of the bastarding things the Powers That Be did sometimes, he thanked them sincerely Cordelia Chase and her next words proved why.
"We’re only human. And that’s very noble of you, Wes. A lot of guys would probably just give up and go with the other woman. You’re one of the good ones. Either of them would be lucky to have you, whomever it is that you end up with.”
Nobility wasn’t a quality he often accused himself of possessing, nor was being ‘one of the good ones’. The hard truth was he didn’t think he was worthy of either of them, but for whatever reason, Penelope wanted to be with him. She wasn’t in second place. She wasn’t a consolation prize. She was someone who had graced his life, and who he was bloody lucky to have. There was a big difference between being noble and knowing when you were onto a good thing. “I’ll try and remember that.” His smile was small, but sincere as the words left his lips. “You’re not that bad either.” He knew her well enough to know she’d understand what he really meant, but just in case, he clarified anyway, his tone ringing with quiet truth. “I’m glad you’re back.”
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