"Any luck?" Cordy said from her position at Wesley's desk, as Angel entered the hotel.

"You could call it that. I saw a guy stealing a book from Wesley's apartment, tried to follow him, but he turned a corner and disappeared."

"Ooh! A shape-shifting book thief who can make himself disappear. I think I have that cross-referenced somewhere."

"Really?"

"No, I'm kidding."

"Oh, any word on Gunn?"

"Still unconscious, but Lorne said his vitals are stabilizing."

"That's good, I guess. Any luck on your end?"

"Well, you know when we had to dig into Giles personal files to fight that Eeyghon guy, how under the surface Giles had that whole alter ego?"

 "Yeah."

            "Well, with Wesley, there's just more surface. I swear this man had the most dull teenage existence anyone could conceive of." Cordelia said, tossing down a leather-bound book with gold-lettering on it.

            "Terrence Academy." Angel read on the cover of the book.

            "Apparently, that's the school for watchers that Wesley attended before he came to Sunnydale. Our Wesley was quite the little academian, if that's any surprise, 2nd in his class."

            "Who beat him? Stephen Hawking?" Angel said leafing through the book.

            "Didn't say. Some of the files were censored I guess. Imagine that, your high school memories blacked out by some big bureaucra—" 

            "This is the guy." Angel said looking down at the book.

"What?"

"The book thief. That's him. John Beckham."

"Looks normal enough to me. Kinda cute." Cordy said looking at the picture. "So we have a suspect. I'd call that progress. Think that's the asswipe who shot Gunn?"

"Yeah. Let's find this guy. Check the usual. Hotels, etc."

"What are you going to do?"

"Ask around. Obviously, this guy's got some connection to magic or demons, so chances are someone's gonna notice a new face in town."

For once, Wesley was glad that he had Lindsey as his lawyer. Lindsey had wowed the judge with his legalese and convinced her that Wesley was Martin Luther King Jr., Oscar Romero, and FDR all rolled into one. He was a free man, or at least a man free on bail. His father had pulled together the 10 thousand to get him out. Wesley had called Angel as soon as he got out, but he didn't get an answer at the hotel or from his cell, so after a quick stop at his apartment, Wesley was headed to the Hyperion.

He found Cordelia in his usual position at his desk, asleep.

"So I'm gone for 2 days and you're already trying to take my job?" Wesley joked, waking Cordelia from her slumber.

"Wesley. You got out." She said getting up to hug him.

"Legally?" Cordy asked half-jokingly, breaking the embrace.

 "Yes, of course. I'm out on bail until the trial, but I'm hoping it won't come to that. How is he?

"The last time I got an update he was still unconscious, but his vitals were getting stronger. So we think we got a possible suspect on the person who put him there. You know this guy?" Cordelia said handing him a photocopied picture of John Beckham.

For a second, the face was entirely foreign to him, but as if being shot, again, he recognized it. Wesley felt the wind being knocked out of him as the memories came flooding back to him. He sat down from the sheer weight. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. Cordelia looked at him trying to discern what had caused such a change.

"What?"

"It can't be." Wesley managed to croak out. "Where did you get this?"

"Well, it's the funniest thing, we were looking into shape-shifting demons and there was this book at the bottom of a pile—"

"Cordelia."

"We went through your personal files. Angel saw this guy coming out of your apartment. He stole one of your books. Angel tried to follow him and he sort of disappeared around a corner. Then Angel saw him in your yearbook for—"

"Terrence Academy. We were schoolmates, friends." Wesley said staring at the picture once again.

"And….?"

"Any luck on finding him so far?" Wesley said, evading that line of questioning.

"Wesley. Spill it."

"I met John my first year at Terrence. My uncle was a watcher and after his only son, my cousin died, a position was available. My uncle had always understood my desire to get away from my father and for an intellectual challenge so he arranged for me to take his son's place. John, on the other hand, had come into Terrence, by his own merits. He was an experiment for the academy in that he hadn't inherited the position. I immediately recognized John as my competition. Academically."

"So he was the guy that beat you out for first place."

"Yes, but it's more complicated than that. John and I became friends even as we fought each other for the coveted first place position. My father practically adopted him, as he had no family of his own. We were roommates in our last year at Terrence, at that point competition was especially fierce as it became evident that whoever finished at the top of the class would be sent to replace Faith's deceased watcher. Nearing the end of the term, after a disappointing term paper grade it became obvious to me that John would win, but I kept trying.

One night before a final, I was translating an incantation for exposing a demon's true visage. It was an especially difficult passage written in several different demonic languages, peppered with some proto-Sumerian. You knew you got the answer right when the spell actually worked, so I finally got it and did the incantation. I could feel the spell working and that's when it worked a little too well. I looked over at my roommate, sleeping, and he was a demon. A Yersai, to be specific. They're shape shifters. Although because it is a physical transformation and not an illusion, they're shapeshifting powers are limited. It usually takes a normal Yersai several weeks to master shifting into a specific persona, although even then, the telltale is the eyes, which for some reason a Yersai cannot change the color of. A well-disciplined Yersai can even go invisible for short periods of time, although that greatly limits their movements. Because of their shape-shifting abilities, physical accounts are sketchy, but the demon in its natural visage is approximately 5 feet tall, with a humanoid figure and green mottled skin. It's natural feeding grounds—"

"Wesley, as much as I'm enjoying this lecture on the Yersai's feeding grounds as much as my last root canal. What happened next? Did he attack you?"

"No, he just kept on sleeping, after about 10 minutes the spell wore off, and I went to bed. In the morning, I reported him to the Council and they expelled him. He was gone before the day was over. Never heard from him from again and I went to the States a month later. Where's Angel?", Wesley shifted his tone, desperate to change the subject.

"Visiting Gunn, which is where I should be too, but I got stuck baby-sitting. Angel should really hire a nanny service or something, this is not in my job description. He tried pumping some of his sources for info on this guy, but got zilch. So what's with these Yershi? How do we kill them?"

"Yersai." Wesley corrected Cordelia's usual colorful reinterpretation of a demon's proper name. "Oh, well although they are naturally strong, standard slice-and-dice should do the trick, unless they've gone invisible, which is unknown, because no one's ever killed them in that form."

"Oh."

Interrupting an awkward moment of silence was Connor, he was awake from his peaceful nap and unhappy. Cordelia went to attend to him and left Wesley with his thoughts.

Of course guilt was the primary one. He ruined his "friend's" life because of his prejudices and had caused another to be seriously injured. Wesley hadn't brought himself yet to the possibility that Gunn might die. The Council had commended him for his actions and condemned John as an infiltrator, a spy. Wesley bought the official line, but as far as he knew John had never been anything, but dedicated. Dedicated to helping the world be a better place.

In fact, John had always been an inspiration to Wesley. Although, Wesley had spouted to his father about wanting to make a difference with the Council, all he ever really wanted to do was prove to his father that he could be a success on his own. John actually believed that stuff, or had at least given Wesley the impression that he had. Now, today, reminded of the incident. He was as sure as ever that John was actually one of the good guys. At least, before his best "friend" betrayed him.

            Yes, Wesley knew, guilt in this instance was entirely justified. In this moment of self-reflection, Wesley remembered Angel. The vampire with a soul who had helped him become the man, the leader that usually sat on the other side of the desk. How many people from Angel's past had come back to haunt him? Too many to count. How did Angel live with this? Endangering the people he cared about because of things he did in his past. Angel had pretty damn good excuse, though, his former self didn't have a soul. Wesley could make no such claim. So what could he do?

            Wesley didn't know, but he knew what he wanted to do. Go visit his friend in the hospital. Wesley got up, unsure of what lay ahead, but still possessing some sense of purpose.

            "Cordelia, call Angel for me, let him know I'm going to the hospital, I'll brief him there on what we're dealing with."

            Alone with his thoughts, again, Wesley turned on the radio to distract himself. He had almost reached a small sense of peace until the news came on.

            "British private detective Wesley Wyndham-Pryce accused of shooting his employee, Los Angeles native Charles Gunn was released on bond this afternoon. Gunn remains in serious condition at—"

            Wesley turned off the radio. He should have known something like that would happen, but he had gotten into the habit of listening to the news for potential clients or new evils popping up. He usually ignored the usual gunshots, rapes, and burglaries, and listened for key words such as "mysterious death", "animal attack", or even a fatal mugging was often a catchphrase for vampire attack. Now Wesley was the evil thing.

            Wesley parked his recent new acquisition, his silver SUV, in the hospital parking lot and headed toward the building. He was still lost in thought, but beneath the jumble of thoughts his instinct was awakened, someone was following him—

             Too late to react now, a hand was already around the back of his neck, at the same time that his right arm was grabbed and pulled, painfully, around his back. Wesley couldn't get away and if this was a vampire, he'd be dead, but it wasn't.

            "Hello Wesley. Good to see you again."

            "John, listen to me. I know you're angry but—"

            With that, his unseen assailant smashed Wesley's face into a nearby car. Wesley winced, internally at the pain caused to his forehead, but he wouldn't let John see him flinch.

            "Angry? Why would I be angry? Because you ruined my life? Because you stole what was rightfully mine? Or how about because the Council imprisoned me for 3 and half years after you ratted me out?"

            John broke his iron grip on Wesley's arm only to throw him into the blue sedan that had been his weapon of choice. The impact on his head made him dizzy, but he was still conscious and now he had an idea. Wesley fell on the ground limp, mimicking unconsciousness, except for his hand which slipped in his pocket for his only option at this point: a dart that had been in there since he had visited the pub several nights ago. He felt John move closer to him and waited for a couple excruciating seconds and then lunged, jabbing the dart into John's face.

            John stepped back, clutching his face, that was beginning to bleed as Wesley quickly pulled the dart out brandishing it as his only defense. He was in pain, but also severely teed off, which was further demonstrated as he reverted to his demon self. Wesley braced himself for the worst, but nothing happened. John's attention was focused on something that Wesley couldn't see and the demon ran off, retreating into a manhole conveniently in the parking lot.

            "Wesley, is that you?" Angel said, still some distance away. 

            "Yes, I was attacked." Wesley said trying get up from his seated position, but finding himself unsteady.

            "By that demon guy?" Angel said, reaching Wesley and helping him to his feet.

            Wesley shook his head in affirmation. "He retreated to the sewer after seeing you I guess."

            "Come on, Wes, let's get you inside, he got you pretty good." Angel said, pointing to the now bleeding cut above his eyebrow.

            "Good idea."

            "I know this isn't the best time to tell you this, but Gunn woke up."

            "When?"

            "About ten minutes ago. The docs were still checking him out when I came out to get you, but he seemed to be ok."

            "That's fantastic."

            "Yeah, we'll go see him after we get you patched up."