Lessons learned

"Experience is a hard teacher. She gives the test first and the lessons afterward." - Anonymous

I was a shy kid growing up. A good student who loved reading and preferred a small circle of friends to a bursting rolodex of who’s who in high school. My day wasn’t exactly packed with extracurricular activities, unless you define writing stories sequestered in a bedroom with the head phones on extracurricular.

I thought life was more fulfilling for the outgoing and the funny. The social butterfly whose day was stuffed with hobbies and whose calendar was full to excess.

When I became a mother, I wished that experience for my kids. I thought that led the way to teenage harmony. . . wait - that’s an oxymoron, isn’t it?

Well, I got my wish. Our sunny, freckled-face, blue-eyed daughter is the picture of a social panorama. She makes friends everywhere: at school, at dance, at home, at church. Even on a plane. An impressive and alien skill.

My husband, also a card-carrying member of introverts anonymous, is as bewildered as I. How did two social misfits create this loquacious, people-seeking miracle? We shake our heads, mystified. A beautiful anomaly.

When I was weaving dreams of peer acceptance and social accord, I didn’t consider the dark side. Something’s got to give, right? Always a ying for a yang. And guess what that is? Academics.

A girl that feeds on social stimulation doesn’t get the same charge from hitting the books. Making the grade. Doing the chores. She’d much rather be out with her friends, chatting it up, soaking in the rays, putting off the chores. As long as humanly possible. Who knew?

She gives me some of the brightest moments in life, a bona fide chatterbox aglow with daily high points and female profundities. Her teachers have only one, consistent complaint: she talks too much. And not to the adult in the room. Big surprise.

If that’s the worst teenage tribulation we have to face, I’ll color myself lucky and do the hokey-pokey in public. But it’s also a fine example of one tried and true human experience. Good intentions sometimes have unexpected consequences.

The coolest thing a writer can do is give the hero exactly what he wants then watch it blow up in his face. Holy print run! Fans love this stuff. Nothing like a deepening dilemma to keep the reader turning the pages.

This heart-wrenching element played out in an episode of Angel entitled, ‘Origin’. Wesley, Team Angel’s resident demon expert - whose moral compass occasionally spins out of control - senses all is not right at Wolfram & Hart, their new home office.

The team’s mission has been compromised by this change of address. The firm was their arch enemy for several years and now they run the place. But they don’t have unconditional control. And, as it turns out, no one but Angel knows the true contract terms of their relocation package.

A family approaches Wesley on behalf of their son, Connor. While Connor was out getting the mail, someone deliberately ran him down. Wesley assumes they want help finding the people responsible for this horrific crime. He’s only half right.

Connor emerged from the incident without a scratch. His parents are understandably upset but are equally startled he walked away unmarked. How is that possible? Wolfram & Hart specializes in paranormal oddities. Is there something they should know about their son? Can Angel and company help?

Wesley’s immediate response is, “of course”, but when Angel sees the parents – more specifically, their son - he refuses the case with a vehemence out of line to the situation.

Wesley’s shocked. They’ve dealt with their share of ethically ambiguous cases before, but this boy hardly seems worthy of antagonism. Wesley’s natural curiosity and suspicion compel him to solve the mystery. For which he will be very, very sorry.

Wesley started his fictional life on Buffy the Vampire Slayer as a single-minded, somewhat cowardly, watcher (a slayer trainer). His pretentious fumbling hid an endearing identity crisis, but he made some bad calls – with the best intentions – and was fired. He slinks off and pops up near the end of Angel’s rookie season as a ‘rogue demon hunter.’

This laughable self-proclamation proves to be a brilliant bit of ironic foreshadowing. Over the course of the show, Wes is subjected to a series of physical and psychological trials that transform him into a proficient warrior. At one point, he’s banished from the team and goes solo.

However, Wesley’s lone wolf side trip has been wiped from his memory, along with the betrayal that initiated his expulsion. Why? Because the consequences of good intentions, agonizing choices, and the terms of Team Angel’s contract with Wolfram & Hart collide.

As demon expert, Wesley translates ancient texts concerning the coming apocalypse. While deciphering a recovered scroll, Wes stumbles upon a series of prophecies concerning Angel. Recently a new father, it predicts he will kill his son and doom humanity.

Wesley tries desperately to disprove it, but all signs point to the inevitable. To save Angel the torment of murdering his own son, Wesley kidnaps Connor. But he walks into a trap and Connor is taken by Holtz, a man with a centuries-old vendetta against Angel. Holtz, in turn, escapes into a hell dimension with Connor.

Wesley’s misery is compounded when he learns the prophecy was fabricated to dislodge the wheel that Wesley unwittingly set in motion. He was duped, a victim of his own unyielding sense of right, losing everyone and everything he holds dear. His rogue days are upon him.

Connor is eventually recovered, but time passes swiftly in a hell dimension. He’s a seventeen year old boy who hit puberty in hell with a man who hates Angel’s guts. Suffice it to say, Connor is not the poster child for mental health. He secretly yearns for family and connection but does everything in his power to self-destruct. And he loathes Angel with a ferocity that is both poignant and psychotic.

To save Connor, Angel accepts Wolfram & Hart’s offer to head the L.A. branch in exchange for two things: one, Connor is given the family and life he always wanted, and two, reality is altered so Connor’s memories - and every else’s - reflect this change. Angel gives up his son to save him. And Angel is the only one who will know.

Wesley’s deceit, exile, and anguish are extinguished. Until Connor shows up with his new family in tow. Angel’s reaction is that of a protective father, but Wes doesn’t know that. He doesn’t recall it. He’s learned his memories are tainted but has no idea why. And fears Angel has sold them out to Wolfram & Hart.

Wes tracks the demon, Vail, responsible for running Connor down and learns Vail also changed the timeline. Vail has summoned Connor out of ‘retirement’ b/c he is the only one who can kill Sahjahn, the demon who monkeyed with the scroll that started this whole mess.

The original prophecy foretold Connor as Sahjahn's destroyer, so Sahjahn reconfigured events to delete Connor from the equation. Sahjahn is a threat to Vail, so Vail recalls Connor. Vail possesses a vessel that still holds Connor’s origin, so if Angel can’t get Connor to kill Sahjahn, Vail will release Connor’s nightmare childhood memories.

Agonizing choices. When Wes finds them, he sees Connor being forced to fight a demon and fears the worst. Angel begs Wes to trust him, but Wes can’t. “Not anymore.” Wes breaks the vessel, unleashing Connor’s true origin and what he finds…well, you know the rest.

The mystery of Connor is solved but Wesley must relive one of the most painful, questionable calls of his life. But he adapts, as he has all along. The fabricated memories were created for a reason - to push the harsh reality of life out of his mind. Not to hide from it so much as endure it. He finds solace, however small, in that.

Connor defeats Sahjahn. He is returned to his family and seems to suffer no ill effects of the memory spell. Not because he doesn’t remember. Because he learned something, too.

“You gotta do what you can to protect your family. I learned that from my father.”*

He acknowledges the sacrifice Angel made by giving him up, giving him what he always wanted. The bitterness and hatred Connor once harbored are erased by Angel's selfless act of love, but he chooses his new family over his real one. Not the perfect ending for Angel, but an acceptable one.

Choices. Consequences. Lessons. When you put a character through his paces, don’t forget the vital wrap up of a lesson learned. Readers require closure, deserve to see the hero learn something vital, especially if they’ve hung in there for the rollercoaster ride.

Wesley began almost a caricature of a man - untested, earnest, and entrenched in a belief system where the line between right and wrong was solidly drawn. As he grew in skill and confidence, that line did not waver so much as shift. And every decision he made was a direct result of that belief system.

Growth born out of character is essential in the hero's journey. And Wesley’s is a humbling, heartbreaking march down the deep end of human nature.

What lesson did I learn from my social dissertation with my daughter? Going from one extreme to another is not always the path to success. A balance should be struck between school and friendship, academics and living life. And it’s not just my lesson to learn. It’s hers, too.

*Dialogue from Angel episode, ‘Origin”, by Drew Goddard