Wasted Today, They're Wasted Tomorrow
It's quite interesting, I think, that some people, upon being introduced to you, think that they suddenly know you. Not just the exterior mannerisms and idiosyncrasies, but your real self. In some ways I wish it was true, and that by merely walking up to some stranger, and telling them that my name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, they could know me so intimately that they would know my deepest self.
Then they could perhaps introduce me to myself. It would certainly make introspection less necessary, and probably have saved me a lot of time. Then again, I'm not sure knowing sooner, beginning the torture of knowing what I want, without being able to have it, would be particularly good, so perhaps I was better off finding things out the long way.
I suppose there had been various signs before, little crushes and the like which I assumed were unimportant. Perhaps they were. Regardless, the first time I really noticed was when the Watcher's Council wanted me to help them capture Faith. Or rather, a few weeks later, bandaged up in hospital, whilst thinking about all that had happened, in those last few busy months, I realized why I had behaved with them the way I did: I loved Angel.
Almost as soon as the thought occurred, I tried to come up with alternate explanations. I was quite good at it. But some where inside, I still knew the truth.
I tried to prove to myself that it wasn't the case. After all, there were many women who I found sexually attractive. Or at least some. But I didn't dream about them; somehow, that made it all right to be with them. It didn't matter if I slept with the blonde girl from the bar, or dated Virginia, because those weren't really real: the relationship I dreamed of having with Angel was what was real. Of course, it sounds quite ludicrous now, when I actually try to put into words what I was thinking, but it seemed perfectly reasonable at the time.
A bit after we returned from Pylea, I saw how unreasonable it was to continue trying to grasp what I could never have: I knew Angel would never want me that way. But I could still love him. So when Connor came along, he became my primary concern, because he was Angel's primary concern. In order to save my love pain, I had to protect Connor. That's why I had to make the deal with Holtz. That's why I had to hurt Angel so badly: because as much as I knew he would hate me if he discovered what I did, I also knew he would hate himself even more if the prophecies came true.
So when Justine slit my throat, I felt relieved in some ways. The feel of the blade as it cut into me certainly wasn't pleasant, but it meant that I wouldn't have to deal with Angel's hatred, or sorrow. And yet, I still ended up in a hospital room, with him trying to suffocate me. Knowing that no matter what happened, he would always hate me. I'd thought I had accepted this possibility, prepared myself for it. I hadn't.
I got good and depressed, and tried to lose myself in the fight against evil with my new companions, and in fucking Lilah. Having sex with someone almost as completely unlike Angel as possible seemed like a good way to try to forget about him.
Yet when he disappeared, I had to search for him. And I found him, and then he drank my blood. Feeling my life flowing out of me, into him, was the most sublime experience of my life. The feeling of connection, emotional and physical, from the combination of what I was giving, and what that gave him, was incredibly powerful and deep. And I'd like to think he felt it too. Because if he did, then someday, perhaps he'll remember, and come to love me, and we can be happy.
Some hope is better than none.