This is absolutely amazing, darling. I love the intricacy of it, the way you weave phrases and motifs through each section to build a consistent tapestry of Wes's character. His longing for family (sisters, mothers, brothers); his fear of judgemental fathers (Giles, Angel, Roger); the abuse he suffered as a child, and the empathy he feels with other abused children (Virginia, Connor, Justine, Faith); and how, no matter how much he tries, he can never dig himself out of that well.

I love this decription of Cordelia:

she was something from inside naughty magazines, something shoved inside the crack between mattress and bed-boards of boys

and the way you echo it later with Angelus. I love the way you echo "Father Christmas doesn't get shot" with "Fathers don't get shot." And can I just say that this is one of THE best uses of "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" that I've ever read anywhere? Brilliant.

This part threw me a little: "Memories of childhood are as fake as Connor’s non-childhood," because at the point in canon where Wes shot his father ("Lineage"), he still didn't have his memories back. But that's just a niggling thing.

This line practically ripped my guts out:

Mentored him next in torture, as if he hadn’t learned that in the lap with pat-a-cake.

Oh. GOD. In that one sentence, you conjure up a whole childhood full of pain. I could quote other phrases, but I'd be practically quoting the whole thing. Beautifully done.