•••

Wesley stared at himself in the mirror, not quite believing his eyes. The horns had been bad enough, but this? What had he done? Which god had he offended? Try as he might, Wesley couldn’t think of a single reason for him to be suffering like this. Why was he turning into a demon?

After he’d first been bitten by the huge, hairy demon that had attacked him in the demon dimension, he’d prayed that it was just a wound, nothing more. The painful growth of his horns had disabused him of that notion; they were an obvious sign that he’d been infected. While in the demon dimension, however, there was little he could do. It frightened him, though, because he’d gotten a good look at what had bitten into him. It was an enormous, hirsute beast. Wesley would rather die than turn into that.

And now this. Each morning, Wesley stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bathroom, looking for changes. For the past week, he’d seen nothing. Today was different, however. He could no longer deny the physical evidence.

The first thing he saw was hair. His lower body was growing in a thick pelt of dark brown fur. He was already nearly covered in the stuff, and by the end of the day his skin would be invisible. That, however, wasn’t what bothered him. The changes to his legs and feet truly scared the watcher.

He was growing hooves. Already he could see that was what they were going to be. His toes were fusing together into two distinct sections and his nails were expanding to become the hoof itself. It was painful to stand because the bones in his legs were shifting to accommodate this new type of foot.

Hysteria would be of no benefit to him, however, so Wesley shoved aside his horror and pulled on his clothes. Fortunately he could still get his feet into a large pair of boots, making the concealment of his condition all that much easier. It was time to get downstairs to the library. These new…developments would prove most useful in diagnosing his condition.

As he walked out of the apartment, he glanced over at Fred, who was still sleeping soundly. He’d missed her desperately while he was trapped in the demon dimension, and was almost frighteningly happy to be back with her. But how could he subject her to whatever he was becoming?

•••

Wil was woken by the sounds of feet clomping down the stairs. Actually, they were sneaking, trying not to make any noise, but it was enough to rouse the vampire from his restless slumber. Knowing that it was Wesley, Wil got up to follow the watcher. In all likelihood, the man was going to the library to study what he was becoming.

Sure enough, Wil found Wesley pulling books off their shelves and tossing them onto a table. “Up awfully early, Wes,” Wil murmured.

Wesley spun around, startled. “Um, I couldn’t sleep.”

Wil nodded and looked at the books Wesley had chosen. Yeah, the guy was on his self-diagnosis spree. The vampire turned from the books to study Wesley, who was moving a bit gingerly. He seemed to be limping a little. Perhaps he’d changed further. It would certainly explain the relatively early-morning trek to the library.

“Wes?”

“Hmm?” Wes said as he found another promising text.

“You’re changing more, aren’t you?” Wil asked.

Wesley slumped down, closing his eyes. “Yes.”

“How so?”

The watcher shook his head. “I’m turning into whatever it was that bit me,” he replied.

Wil jerked back in surprise. That thing had been a monster! “I’ll help.”

The two men read through everything in the library, desperately searching for an answer. After a few hours, Fred stuck her head in the library. She offered to bring them something to eat, an offer they couldn’t refuse. She left them to the researching, however, so that she and Cordelia could get some work done in the office.

“Take a look at this,” Wil said, handing a book over to Wesley.

“What is it?” Wesley asked, taking the text and beginning to read it.

“It sounds like what got to you.”

And indeed it did. The creature, an Anteliarian demon, was rarely seen by humans, preferring dimensions that were sparsely populated and demon-dominated. “So I’m becoming an antisocial, hairy demon?” Wesley quipped.

Wil shook his head. “Turn the page. It talks about infected humans.”

Apparently the demons could infect humans, through a bite. The victim would show certain physical symptoms of infection that once present could not be cured. What gave Wesley hope was that the infection would not turn him into the demon, but rather into a hybrid—the characteristics listed weren’t much more severe than what he was already suffering. “That’s it?” He asked disbelievingly.

“What, you wanted to go insane, too?” Wil returned lightly. He’d already read the entry. Wesley was, for lack of a better word, turning into a faun. The cloven-hoofed feet, bestial legs, and horns wouldn’t go away, and would shortly be joined by a tail and pointed ears. Beyond that, however, Wesley would remain, physically and mentally, the same as he was now.

“But there’s no cure?” Wesley asked the vampire. “I’m going to be like this forever?”

Wil nodded slowly. The book stated quite plainly that there wasn’t any way to reverse the process. He was going to be that way for a very long time. “I’m sorry, mate, but it could have been worse.”

Wesley agreed. Indeed, he could have become some sort of raving lunatic demon that tried to kill his friends. Instead he was going to be a furry guy with horns. He and Lorne should start a sideshow.

“You know, it’s not really surprising, considering the makeup of the rest of this group,” Wesley remarked some time later. “Two vampires, two werewolves, two demons, and two humans. And Lorne, of course.”

Wil laughed. “It’s certainly not looking good for the humans, is it?” Having helped avert this particular crisis, Wil exited the library to return to his quarters. He stopped briefly next to Angel’s rooms, listening for any sign of life. Cordelia had been bringing the vampire blood, and said that he was drinking it, but no one had actually seen Angel for a week, since he’d gone into seclusion.

The gang had expressed their worries about Angel, wondering what they could do to help. They hadn’t come up with much, and were afraid to try what they did think up, since the last time Angel had done anything like this, he’d fired them.

Finally, they decided that Wil was the only one with any chance of reaching the vampire. He’d protested, noting how violently Angel had reacted to his presence, blaming him for Connor’s death. The others had responded by pointing out that he was closer to Angel than any of them, and knew how to connect with the broody vampire. Eventually Wil had agreed, although he didn’t hold out much hope. Lorne had been very supportive, saying that it was the right thing to do.

So now Wil’s main responsibility was reviving Angel. The rest of the gang was busy fighting evil. The Powers had wasted no time in utilizing their newly returned seer, sending Cordelia vision after vision. Xander, too, was getting so many messages he’d bought a PDA to record them on, downloading them into Fred’s new computer system. It automatically assigned team members to each case, ranking them by importance and difficulty. Everyone, Wil included, spent several hours each day rescuing damsels, and dudes, in distress. It seemed to be the season for stupid fledglings to attack nubile young club goers.

The office, however, was quiet enough that Wil decided to work on the Angel issue again. He had eliminated a lot of things, like going to actually talk to the vampire, since he didn’t want to get staked for his trouble. He really needed to reach Angel, though, since his sire had been the one to help him when he’d first gotten his soul. He owed Angel.

Perhaps the same techniques that had worked on him would work for Angel. Wil glanced at his journals. He hadn’t written in them as much lately, since life had gotten really hectic. Perhaps now was a good time to start. The beginnings of an idea started, and Wil pulled down a clean new journal and dug out a pen.

- - - - - - - - - -

I miss Connor. He was the light of my days. Watching him coo and gurgle was like watching the sun rise, all glory and light. Holding him, all that fragile innocence in my arms, humbled me. He was a miracle and for a little while, he was here.

Even after more than a week, I still cannot really believe he is gone. In one moment, with one cruel twist, the universe took him away. How could a benevolent god let such a gift fall into the hands of crazed evil? How could a man who had had children of his own murder a tiny baby?

Every time I close my eyes, I see him. That moment replays itself over and over again in my mind. I cannot escape Connor’s death. Each night I ask myself what I could have done to prevent it. At what point did I hesitate, did I not try as hard as I could to save him? Was I unconsciously hoping he would die?

I cannot find any sign of that, but I continue. There has to be a reason for his death. No one would just take an innocent for no reason. Whoever is responsible should suffer the same fate. If it was me, I will gladly walk into the sun, since I would no longer deserve to live.

It is not like I am very much alive now anyway.

Wil

- - - - - - - - - -

Wil closed the journal and held it for a moment. He would give it to Cordelia to place on the tray she used to carry Angel’s blood. That way the vampire might actually take it.

The seer looked at the journal with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. She just set it beside the blood and went up to Angel’s apartment. They wouldn’t know if he read it for hours, if ever. The vampire might ignore it, take it and read it, or burn it in the fireplace. Regardless of the outcome, it was a worthy effort.

Determined not to waste away sitting around, Wil joined Gunn, Fred and Xander when they went out to resolve yet another vision. Cordelia and Oz stayed with Wesley, since the watcher couldn’t walk well. Until the transformation was complete, he was stuck doing desk work.

The target of the vision turned out to be several young children who were being chased by a gang of vampires. The investigators wasted no time in dusting the vampires. Fred and Xander made sure the kids got home, spinning some sort of fantastic tale for them so that they wouldn’t get nightmares. By the time they were at their houses, the kids were convinced they’d wandered onto a movie set.

When they got back to the hotel, where Oz, Cordelia and Wesley were waiting anxiously. The seer handed Wil his journal, saying that she’d found it outside Angel’s door. Wil took it, wondering if Angel had even read it. He carried the book to his rooms, wanting privacy. When he opened it to his first entry, he saw that Angel had actually written something after it.

- - - - - - - - - -

I want my son back.

- - - - - - - - - -

A tear rolled unnoticed down Wil’s face. What could he say in response to that? He laid the journal away, wanting to take some time before answering that.

Although it was early yet, Wil showered and prepared for bed. He knew that if he went downstairs, the others would be more than happy to spend some time with him. Oz and Xander were always open to watching a movie or going out, and Wesley never avoided a good argument. Wil just didn’t feel like it. He needed to be alone.

In truth, he needed his Sire. Angel was suffering, but then again so was Wil. Angel, however, had made himself the person to whom Wil turned when he was in pain. Now Wil needed Angel, but he was nowhere to be found. That left the blonde alone and very much afraid, when he was supposed to be the strong one.

•••

“Well?” Xander said quietly after Wil had retreated upstairs.

Wesley shook his head sadly. “I have no idea, Xander.”

Fred went over to help Wesley stand. After a moment, he let her assist him. It pained him to need help, but there wasn’t much way around it.

“Unless somebody’s got a better idea, I’m going to bed now,” Cordelia announced, shooting a pointed look at Gunn. He smiled and followed her. Sometimes it paid to not argue with Queen C.

“You wanna catch a movie?” Xander asked Oz. The werewolf knew that Xander needed to get out of the hotel. He had his suspicions that one of characteristics of Xander’s new demonic state was empathy. The young seer seemed to know just how everyone felt, and when he was around Angel, Wil or Wesley for too long, he got antsy. Their pain seemed to transfer over to Xander. It occurred to Oz that Xander could use more training with his meditation. That might help him handle the situation.

“Sure,” Oz replied.

They left the hotel as Wesley and Fred were retreating to his apartment. The watcher was exhausted, something he blamed on the changes his body was undergoing. He hoped they didn’t take too long, because being tired all the time would be a hindrance to the group.

“Wesley,” Fred began as she settled him into bed.

“Hmm?”

She sat down next to him. “Do you think that this,” she said, waving over his body, “bothers me?”

The watcher blushed and ducked his head. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“Because you’re still you, Wes. Why would it?” She responded curiously.

“I’m hideous,” Wesley whispered.

Fred shook her head. “Nope. You’re Wesley. The same Wesley I fell in love with ages ago, and the same one that came back to me.”

Wesley looked up at her hopefully. He wasn’t sure that she wasn’t lying, but what she’d said had given him a little hope. She watched as he smiled tentatively and lay back on the pillows.

“Now, you need to sleep, mister!” Fred ordered in a fairly good imitation of Cordelia. Wesley laughed at her as she turned out the lights. Perhaps everything would work out in the end.