Title: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Author: Jeanny

Feedback: Please. jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Distribution: I don't mind, just credit me and let me know where it's going.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Season 3 Through Benediction

Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing, especially the characters in this story. I think they belong to a David...Green-something. And a Josh...no, Joss...I'm drawing a blank. And of course I'm kidding.

Summary: Despite her own misgivings, Cordelia pays Wesley a visit. (takes place after A New World and during Benediction but is AU)

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He'd never realized it before, but Wesley knew her knock.

He sighed, setting aside both his book and the impulse to pretend he wasn't home. It wouldn't work, that much was certain. If Cordelia Chase wanted an audience with him, she'd pound like that on his door for hours until she got it.

"Wesley? I know you're in there."

Even muffled through the door, he could hear it in her voice. The anticipated anger...and something else. Something he hadn't expected. It was that something that made him open the door and let her in.

"Cordelia," was all the greeting he gave her. She strode into the apartment with her shoulders hunched, and he recognized that posture. Guilt. "Angel doesn't know you're here, I take it?"

"No. This has nothing to do with Angel...though I have to tell you, what you did, it's still ripping him-"

"I've heard all about the effects of my misdeeds from my other erstwhile friends, Cordelia. If that's all you've got to say, please leave now." Cordelia settled herself on the couch and looked at him expectantly. With an aggrieved sigh, Wesley closed the door and leaned against it, folding his arms.

"I told you. That's not why I'm here," Cordelia said absently, her sharp eyes taking in her surroundings. Wesley had the uncomfortable impression she was looking for something in particular, and he didn't like it. Not at all.

"Why are you here then? And please, make it quick, I'm terribly busy," he snapped. Cordelia's nose crinkled in exasperation.

"No, you're not. You're not doing anything, unless you consider self-pity a to-do thing. But you will be soon if you don't-"

"Don't what?" he asked in clipped, bitter tones. "What is it that you would have me do?"

She couldn't have shocked him more with her answer if she'd told him to climb trees in Timbuktu.

"Forgive yourself."

"I'm sorry," Wesley said, his manner conveying not guilt but confusion.

"Forgive. Yourself. You've got to, Wes. You made a mistake. It was a big one, and there's no denying it's affected a lot of lives-"

He tried to cut her off loudly, "And we're back to the part where I ask you to leave-"

"But it was a mistake," she finished, her eyes shining with feeling. "You didn't mean for any of that...with Connor...to happen."

"No," he said, his eyes closed against the memory of Justine, the knife, of Angel telling him...

"You thought you were doing the right thing. You thought Angel would kill his son. Why wouldn't you have? You had the prophecy...the Loa even gave you the signs that indicated it was true."

"How do you know that?" Wesley demanded, stunned. Cordelia continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"Why do you suppose that was? Why do you suppose you got nothing to indicate that you were wrong, and so many things to indicate you were right?"

"The prophecy was false," Wesley said, not in answer to her question but because he needed her to understand that, as far as he was concerned, "It doesn't matter what I thought. I was wrong, and the child will suffer the consequences."

"No, he won't," Cordelia said with utter certainty.

"You can't know that!" Wesley said harshly.

"He won't, because he already has, Wes. Connor's back from Quortoth, all grown up." She considered her statement, then amended, "Well, he's a teenager, that's close enough to grown up."

"Good Lord," was all Wesley could manage. Cordelia leaned forward, her whole posture demanding him to listen and understand.

"Don't you see? The Powers wanted this. This was their plan all along, and you were just a pawn in it. They knew you...they knew you'd try to save the baby...and they knew you were arrogant, and you'd keep it to yourself."

"You're saying I was played?" Wesley asked, his voice cracking with emotion. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, pure rage swirled in their depths. "Why thank you, Cordelia, I feel ever so much better. Is that all?"

Cordelia ignored his sarcasm, standing and walking towards him. He stepped back and away in confusion until he found his back literally up against the wall, but she kept striding towards him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, as she stopped within arm`s length and just stood there, looking at him so strangely, it made him feel...he wasn't really sure what it made him feel. "I think you should go now," he said shakily.

"You did what you were meant to do, Wes," she said again, compassionately. "No one wants you to suffer, not like this."

"You're wrong. Everyone does. Angel does," he protested. She shook her head, and he found all of a sudden he couldn't look directly at her without squinting slightly. *My God, is Cordelia...glowing?* he thought in disbelief.

"Not even Angel, Wes. Not anymore."

"I don't understand. What...what are you doing? Cordelia?" Wesley's voice rose in pitch and he let out a cry as reached for him, pulling his body against hers and wrapping her arms around him tight. It felt like she was touching him...everywhere, all at once, not in a sexually arousing way but in the way of comfort, not just his skin but underneath, all the way down to his soul. It felt like a return to the womb, only even more primal, and Wesley's knees gave way but she held him up, she held him, and he felt like something was being pulled off of him, slowly and painfully, like a scab off a wound that covered his entire body. He heard a harsh grating sound and realized it was his own breath, hitching with sobs. And all the time he could hear Cordelia, not just with his ears but with something deep inside him, telling him over and over that it was going to be alright. And he couldn't help but believe her, because the truth resonated within him as all great truths always did.

Then at once it was over. Wesley felt unaccustomedly raw, vulnerable...and infinitely better. Cordelia released him but kept her hands at his sides, and she looked at him questioningly as he eyed her with red-rimmed eyes.

"Feeling better?" she asked softly.

He gulped shakily, trying to get his bearing back.

"What did you do?"

"Lorne says it's like some kind of spiritual high colonic," Cordelia shrugged, blushing modestly. To Wesley, that might be the most shocking event of the day. She wiped some tears from his cheek gently and smiled. "Did it work? Do you feel better?" This time he nodded in response to the question.

"Quite a lot better, actually...but I still don't understand."

"I'm not really sure I do either. When I got my demon vision upgrade, it apparently came with some other perks. I didn't know I could do anything like that until Connor...Steven, he wants to be called Steven now...tried to kill me."

"He did what?" Wes asked sharply, but Cordelia seemed not to hear him, frowning in memory.

"He was so filled with rage and pain...that was all I could see in him, so I wasn't afraid...I just...I just wanted to hug him, make it all better...and I did." She shook her head in wonder, then grinned. "Just like I did with you. And just like I did with Angel before I came here."

"So now Angel..."

"He's still angry, but he wants you to come home. We all want you to come back to us, Wes. It's time we move on from this...I mean, we've still gotta work through some issues here, trust and sharing and taking things or people that don't belong to us...but I can promise you that he won't try to kill you. And Connor, Steven, he's still so lost in so many ways...I think he's going to need all of us."

Part of Wesley was overcome with joy. He wanted to scream that yes, of course, he would go with her, back to Angel, back to his life. He was surprised when he heard different words coming out of his mouth.

"I have to think about this. So much has happened...even though I don't feel as...overwhelmed, as I was, I'm still not sure that Angel Investigations is right for me anymore."

Cordelia nodded, placing an understanding hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I can't force you to come back, and I won't try," she said, her eyes finding the book that he'd been reading before she came. Dante's Inferno. She looked at him again and he knew she knew before she said it. "I know Lilah's been here. Wolfram and Hart want you to join their team. They've been trying to lure you from the good side, and it was hard for you. Because the path you used to be on wasn't clear. I hope...I hope it's clear now."

"I have no interest in Lilah or Wolfram and Hart, I can assure you," Wesley said emphatically.

"Good," Cordelia said with a little giggle. "Great, even. Then, I guess, I'll see you around. Don't be a stranger, Wes." She turned away and headed back for the door, and he felt a lump in his throat. He knew without thinking that the room would be unbearably dark and cold the second she left it.

"I...Cordelia..."

She turned and smiled expectantly.

"Yes?"

He hesitated for just a moment, just staring at her, uncertain where to begin.

"I do like what you've done with your hair," he blurted out, coloring when he realized what he'd said. She seemed both pleased and a bit disappointed, and he understood why she would be.

"Thanks," she said simply, then turned towards the door again.

"Cordelia, wait," he started again.

"Okay," she said, more patiently than he would have remembered. He could feel himself smiling, the first real smile he could remember having for the longest time. It felt so good he wanted to shout. He unexpectedly started to laugh, and she did too, even though neither of them had said or done anything particularly amusing. This felt amazingly good, too. Finally their laughter trailed off.

"Cordelia," he began again, struggling to normalize his breathing after the fit of laughter, as cleansing in its own way as Cordelia's high-powered hug had been. She held up her hand, not to silence him but in invitation.

"I can wait," she said simply. And he realized that she would. As long as it took.

"Thank you," he said, meaning so many things. "I won't be long."

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