A/N: Ahem…a poem… "Roses are red/Violets are blue/The feedback here rocks/and so do you!" Thank you. Thank you. I'm here all week…..

**********

"I'm quite busy the rest of the afternoon. I have four other cases to send back out and two appointments. If your research needs are that urgent, call Beverly and have her squeeze you in sometime tomorrow."

Wesley hung up his cell phone with a sigh and slid it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Glancing at his watch, he grabbed his briefcase and strolled out of his office.

Did they think he had all the time in the world? That he would drop everything just because they had slacked off and now needed research help immediately. He had his own job to do, his own cases to research. He didn't have time for his colleagues petty problems.

Wesley slipped into the elevator as the doors began to close. He smiled politely at the woman standing beside him before turning his gaze straight ahead.

As the elevator doors slid close, Wesley found himself staring at his own reflection. The reflection of a man that resembled him, but at the same time, he could not recognize.

What the hell was happening to him? He had taken the job to do what he needed to do, not to become one of the Wolfram and Hart drones. But here he was. In his nice suit with his expensive briefcase, complaining about colleagues and thinking about everything he needed to accomplish after lunch.

He had become one of them. He had eased seamlessly into this new persona of his, and he had never once realized it.

Wesley silently scolded himself for losing sight of the mission so quickly. He still had so many questions to answer in regards to Faith and what role she played in the coming apocalypse. Just knowing whose side she would be on would change everything. It would change whether she lived or she died, and it would change if he would have to be the one to take her life or if Wolfram and Hart would be glad to do the deed.

The elevator eased to a stop at the ground floor. The doors opened and the woman who had been riding along with him stepped off. He watched her leave and touched the button to his floor.

There were more important things to do right now than lunch with the other drones.

**********

Fred sat on the hotel counter as Gunn stood beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. They exchanged a worried glance as Angel descended the staircase.

"Hey, guys," he said as he approached them.

They didn't respond to his greeting, and Angel looked at them, concerned. "Are you guys, okay?"

"Angel, we have something to tell you," Gunn replied. "About Wesley."

Angel crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Fred pulled nervously at a loose strand of hair. "Um, he's kinda working for Wolfram and Hart."

"Kinda?"

"Okay. It's more like he's definitely working for Wolfram and Hart," Fred corrected. "He's their new VP of research."

Angel chuckled and shook his head.

"Angel?" Gunn asked.

"When did you guys find out?"

"Yesterday," Gunn replied. "Fred saw it in the paper and went to see him."

Angel's eyes shot to her immediately, and Fred shrugged nervously. "To hear what he had to say about it."

"And?" Angel asked.

"He didn't have anything to say about it."

"So now that Wes has officially gone to the dark side, what do we do?" Gunn asked.

"I'll just have to deal with him, the same way I do everyone else at Wolfram and Hart."

**********

Wesley awoke slightly as thunder rumbled outside. As he listened to the rumble fade away, he slipped back into unconsciousness. Only as he was on the brink of falling back into a deep slumber did he feel the hand wrap around his throat.

His eyes flew open as his hands instinctively moved to pry the assailant's grip from his throat. Even in the darkness of his apartment, Wesley could recognize the eyes that were peering at him, the hands that wrapped themselves firmly around his throat.

"Hi, Wesley. We need to talk." Angel shrugged slightly as he continued, "Actually, I'll talk. You'll listen. I hear you have a new job. Probably have a nice office with a spectacular view of the city, huh?"

Wesley could only gasp in response, as he tried vainly to pry Angel's grip from his neck.

"I never got the chance to thank you for saving me." He leaned closer as he whispered menacingly, "But if I find out that you saved me because of some Wolfram and Hart agenda, you'll be the one who needs to saved. Do you understand me?"

"You know, it's very rude to disturb someone while they're trying to sleep."

Both men turned to the voice as the ceiling light came on.

Faith stood in the doorway, crossbow aimed at Angel.

Angel looked at her, surprised. He wanted to ask her when she had gotten out of jail, why she hadn't made a move to contact him since her release. But at the moment, he was more concerned by the fact that she was aiming a crossbow at him….

"Faith, what are you doing?" he asked sternly.

"Maybe I should be asking you that. I mean, you are the one strangling my former Watcher."

Angel released Wesley, and Wesley gasped for air to stop the burning in his lungs. Angel took a step back as Wesley quickly removed himself from the bed, breathing hard.

"Faith, don't involve yourself here," Wesley replied between breaths.

Faith glanced at him. "Too late now."

"Faith, you're a little out of your league here," Angel replied.

"Maybe. Maybe not," she shrugged, her finger tense on the trigger of the crossbow.

Angel stared at her for a moment before replying, "He'd be dead before you pulled the trigger."

"Or maybe you'd be dust before you could lift a finger," Faith smiled crookedly.

Silence engulfed the room as Angel and Faith stared each other down, Wesley simply looking on, a hand to his tender throat.

"Can I just ask one thing?" Faith asked, her arm never relaxing. "When the hell did everyone lose their damn minds in this place? I'm supposed to be the rebel on the line between good and bad, not you guys."

"A lot has changed since you last saw us, Faith," Angel replied.

"Obviously."

Angel watched her for a moment, attempting to read her body language. Faith, however, remained unmoving-- a warrior ready for battle at the drop of a hat.

Angel took a step towards Wesley.

His reflexes still not up to par, the stake impaled his shoulder before he could fully dodge it.

He looked up at Faith, pulling the stake from his shoulder with a deep growl.

"You thought I was bullshitting you?" Faith asked.

"You're on the wrong side here, Faith," Angel grunted as he pressed his hand to his injured shoulder.

"Yeah, I probably am."

Angel simply nodded and walked towards the door. Faith backed away from the doorway, her arm still poised and ready, as Angel strolled out of the apartment.

Once he was gone, Faith finally lowered the crossbow. She turned to Wesley, who frowned at her as he replied, "You shouldn't have involved yourself, Faith."

"What was that, Wesley? I couldn't hear you clearly. Did you just say, 'Thank you, Faith, for saving my damn life from the obviously psychotic vampire?'"

"He was doing us both a favor," Wesley muttered under his breath as he made his way to close his bedroom window. "Maybe you should just go home, Faith."

As he turned, he felt an object shoot over his shoulder. He watched as the stake impaled itself into the wall in front of him. He turned to Faith, eyes wide.

Faith lowered the crossbow as she replied, "I'm not going home until you tell me what the hell is going on."