Written for the Nevermet Ficathon ficathon.
For appomattoxco, who wanted Gunn/Xander, but not slash, Spike, African food, a fight with a demon, and no Angel or unhappy endings (demanding, a’int she *g*). Here’s to hoping I got it all right...
Disclaimer: I am not Joss, and yet I write stories about his characters. Don’t they say imitation is the highest form of flattery? . . . Copyrights, eh? Well, I’m not getting paid, so hopefully I’ll be okay.
Also, thanks to karabair for the uber-fast beta. I really appreciate it, hun!
Drive to LA, she said.
Speak to . . . him, she said.
Xander tried not to grind his teeth, as he flicked the turn signal and pulled into the parking lot of the LA Branch of Wolfram and Hart. When Dead Boy had left Sunnydale all those glorious years ago, Xander never thought he’d have to go see him again. But Buffy wanted the A-word to receive the news of their victory and Spike’s disintegration face to face. She didn’t want to go herself, because she said the past would just distract her, but she decided that she owed Angel the courtesy. And she wanted him, Xander, to scope out the offices and see what the hell had happened to possess the ex to take over an evil law firm. Apparently the conversation on the phone had been . . . tense. Xander smirked. If the new definition of ‘tense’ included him hiding three rooms away and still flinching at all the yelling.
And how did Xander feel about this meeting? Not great.
He’d heard a rumor that Mr. LA himself had actually been in Sunnydale. And left. He could have helped, and because he hadn’t, there had been casualties. Some people hadn’t made it. People like Anya. Xander gripped the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. He so didn’t want to be here.
Xander heaved a huge sigh, relaxing his tense hands. He opened the car door, heading for the massive building that dominated the entire block. Xander whistled as he entered the lobby. This is what that moron was in charge of now? Could he ally himself with the forces of darkness too?
He headed for the front counter and smiled at the receptionist. “So this is what an evil law firm looks like?” She didn’t smile back.
“How can I help you, sir?” She said, curtly. Xander groaned a little internally. He knew this kind of receptionist.
“I’m here to see the boss.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Angel is booked solid for the next few months, so unless you have an appointment . . .”
Xander tried the big goofy grin. “No, you see, I’m an old friend of his.”
Her fake smile tightened. “Of course you are, sir.”
Xander was getting desperate. Not that he particularly wanted to see the guy, but he did have a job to do.
“Look, miss—”
“Carol, is this guy giving you trouble?”
The receptionist’s face suddenly split into a wide, though still false, smile.
“Mr. Gunn! How nice to see you.”
Xander turned to see a tall, African American man standing behind him, clad in baggy jeans and an oversized sweat shirt, carrying a cardboard box. There were little red robots in it, all boxy, like something out of Sci-Fi B movie.
“Did you need someone to help you to your office?” The receptionist gestured to the box.
Gunn shrugged. “Nah. I got it.” He nodded to Xander. “Who’s this guy?”
“Xander.” Xander made a move to shake Mr. Gunn’s hand, remembered the box, and went for his pocket instead. He hoped it looked smooth. “I’m a friend of Angel’s from Sunnydale.”
Gunn raised an eyebrow. “Sunnydale, huh? Last I heard, Angel didn’t have too many friends in Sunnydale.”
Xander shrugged. “Fine, technically I don’t like the guy, but I’m a friend of Buffy’s and I have news.”
Gunn eyed him for a moment longer before shrugging again. “A’ight. Follow me.”
Xander followed Gunn, and one short, and awkward, elevator ride later they reached their destination.
“She wasn’t lying you know,” said Gunn as he led the way to the offices.
Xander was confused. “Sorry, who?”
“Carol. The receptionist. Angel’s been booked solid for the last week. Meetings with bigwigs, signing things. He finally managed to escape tonight.”
Xander groaned. “You mean he’s not here?”
“Nah. But if you want to wait around a bit . . . ” Gunn stopped in front of two doors, looking unsure of which to pick.
“What, here? In an evil office with evil lawyers? No offense.”
Gunn shrugged. “Yeah, it’s evil. But we’re hopin’ to do some good. Which one do you think I should take?”
Xander peered inside both offices. “They kinda look the same.”
“Yeah, but which one feels better to you? You know, like has that kung pow.”
“Chicken?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Isn’t it ming something?”
Gunn shrugged, stared for a moment longer, and walked into the office on the right.
Xander looked around. “Nice. The paint will really go with the robots.”
“I know you’re not bad mouthing the robots,” said Gunn, placing the box on the floor.
Xander picked up a robot. “No, I like them. Very professional. Ally McBeal written all over them.”
Gunn plucked the robot from Xander’s hand. “And don’t be touchin’ them either.”
Gunn arranged the robots on the built in shelf in the corner of his newly chosen office. Xander looked around feeling generally useless.
“Is there any kind of ETA on Angel? At all?”
“Dunno. When he goes off at night it’s usually to save some damsel in distress, and since he hasn’t had a chance to do that in a while, there could be two damsels that need savin’.” Gunn walked over to the desk, opening and shutting drawers in a random way. “Don’t hold your breath, is all I’m saying.”
“What am I going to do until then? I came here early so I could catch him! How can he save damsels if it’s still light out?”
“I dunno. I think he lurks after them until it gets dark.” Gunn stopped the random search of his new desk. “You hungry? I could really go for some food.”
Xander shrugged helplessly. “Sure. Why not? It’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.”
*****
“How’s the Doro Wat workin’ out?”
Xander choked a little more, trying not to scrabble for his water. His mouth was on fire.
Gunn smirked. Xander was sweating a little, his face the colour of the very red tablecloth.
“I eat a lot of Mexican,” said Xander, through gulps of water. “I should be immune to this!”
“Mexican and Ethiopian are two different things, bro.” Gunn took a slightly smug bite of his meal. Xander didn’t need to know that the Alecha Gunn had ordered was way milder than the Wat. Stomach of Iron was not a bad image to have.
“So, where you guys stayin’ now that Sunnydale is a big ass crater?”
Xander swallowed his food quickly, trying to spare his burning taste buds further torment.
“A hotel just out side of t—where the town used to be.”
“Hotel? Didn’t Angel offer you guys rooms?”
Xander looked uncomfortable. “Yeah. But . . . well, we needed to find a place fast. Robin was hanging on by a thread. Plus, that many girls on one bus? The need for a bathroom became dire.”
Gunn gave Xander a look and then shrugged. “Whatever.”
They ate for a moment in silence, Xander trying to finish his meal without spontaneously combusting. Finally Gunn took a pull from his beer and then broke the silence.
“So, why are you here?”
Xander looked up from his meal. “A favour for Buffy. I’m playing the role of messenger on this trip.”
“Your phone broken?”
“Y—well, no.”
“So why the face to face? Is it an obligation thing, or something? I mean, it’s not hard to figure out that you don’t really like Angel, which I get. Not wild about vamps myself. But there’s no reason to come aside from making your crew feel better about keeping him outta the fight.”
“Keeping him—he kept himself out!” Xander clenched his fork, knuckles turning white.
Gunn shrugged. “Not how I heard it. But that doesn’t matter. See, what I figure is that you’re here to scope us out. Make sure Angel’s still playing with a soul.” Xander tried to keep his face blank as Gunn continued. “I know it looks like we’ve given in to the baddies, but we haven’t. We’ll keep Angel on the straight and narrow.”
Xander raised his eyebrows. “Look, no offense. You seem really nice, taking me out for dinner and all—”
“‘Taking out’ makes it sound like a date.”
“Fine. Showing me to this restaurant to share a meal in an entirely manly fashion and all—” Gunn nodded. Xander continued. “But I don’t know you. I don’t know any of you, well except for Wesley, who last I saw him, was having trouble holding a stake without getting a splinter. But I do know Angelus. I need to make sure that everything’s kosher, that’s all.”
“It is,” said Gunn, firmly.
“Not that I don’t trust you, but—”
“You wanna throw down?” Said Gunn.
“Throw down? Couldn’t we just drink a lot of beer or pick up some wenches to prove our manliness?”
Gunn rolled his eyes and nodded to the door. Standing in the threshold of the restaurant was a vampire in game face.
“This is a demon place?” asked Xander, confused.
“No.”
“Ah.”
“So, you ready, or you been outta Sunnydale so long you don’t remember how to knock around some vamps?”
“Well, you see, I was never really one for the . . . ” Xander remembered all the times people had tried to protect him, had held him back because he didn’t have super powers. Did Gunn have super powers? He wasn’t exactly clear on that point. At any rate, Gunn wasn’t trying to protect him. He was grinning, handing a stake to Xander.
“Been too long since I did this.”
Xander took the stake he was offered. “Me too.”
The patrons of the restaurant were determinedly ignoring the vampire in the doorway. The African place was not cheap, and these people seemed intent on letting nothing destroy the ambience, not even the unpleasant man at the front.
The vampire, perhaps sensing that he was not receiving the reaction he desired, snarled and grabbed the hostess by the neck, snapping it and throwing her onto a table near the door. The man at the table shrieked as the hostess landed in his dish. Frantically, he pushed himself from the table, tripping over his chair. The vampire, noticing the customer helplessly tangled in his seat, made for him.
Gunn raced through the restaurant, sidestepping tables and frightened people. He came up behind the vampire, who was bending over the frightened and chair-entangled customer, and aimed for the heart.
A hand stopped the stake inches from the vampire’s back, and Gunn looked into the grinning face of the vampire he’d tried to stake. Bastard was fast, he thought, as the other arm came out to punch Gunn. He went flying into the next table, knocking over a few chairs on his way.
The vampire circled behind Gunn and crouched down. Reaching forward, he closed his hand around Gunn’s neck.
“Time to die,” the vampire leered.
Suddenly he exploded in a cloud of dust.
“Time to die?” said Xander, incredulously. “That was just . . . lame.”
Xander helped Gunn to his feet. Gunn was right; it had been a long time since Xander had been involved in the hands-on fighting. Well, aside from the battle to close the Hellmouth. But that hadn’t really been what you might call a run-of-the-mill vampire attack. Staking a vamp made him nostalgic for the old Scooby days when it had been just the group against the various demons in Sunnydale.
“Thanks, man,” said Gunn, brushing off his pants.
Xander surveyed the restaurant. Frightened customers, broken furniture, dead hostess. He came to a decision.
“Let’s go get a drink.”
Gunn nodded. “I like the sound of that.”
*****
Xander was again driving to Wolfram and Hart. Why did this keep happening to him?
He never had gotten the chance to see Angel the first time round. Gunn had had to leave the bar early, claiming he had to meet the Wolfram and Hart liaison at the office and book an appointment for something important and mysterious.
Xander had tried going back to the office after the bar, but Carol was even less impressed with Five Beers Xander.
“Mr. Angel is in an important meeting right now with his senior staff. His secretary has said he does not wish to be disturbed.
So Xander had checked his Five Beers self into a hotel and the next morning had tried calling before showing up.
“Mr. Angel AND Mr. Gunn are otherwise occupied. Please try back later this week.”
Rather than go back to Buffy with his message undelivered, Xander explored LA. People from all over the world gravitated to it, so perhaps there was something he should really see. Upon seeing as much of Hollywood as he could take, Xander decided to ask Buffy if there was some way he could keep fighting for the white hats, only really far away. He was done with California. All the crass commercialism just reminded him of Anya.
Later in the week, as instructed, he actually managed to get past the ever-vigilant Carol, and up to the offices of Wolfram and Hart. The elevator dinged and Xander stepped into the foyer, heading for Gunn’s office. He needed to brace himself before going to see Dead Boy.
He knocked twice on the closed door before entering. And walking through Spike.
“—working on it, Spike!” said Gunn, sounding frustrated. “We’ve all got a lot on our plates! I have to go over contracts so we can shut down some of the businesses that this firm operates. To me, it’s a little more important than figuring out why you’re transparent. Oh, hey Xander.”
“I expected more from you, Charlie Boy.” Spike looked briefly at Xander, who was standing with mouth agape. “So you made it then, Harris? Isn’t that just bloody fantastic.” He turned back to Gunn. “I get ole’ Broody Pants’ attitude, can’t stand me, the wanker—”
“I wonder why,” mumbled Xander.
Spike made a rude gesture before continuing. “But you, Charlie, you actually have a brain. The sooner I’m a real boy again, the sooner I’m out of your hair.”
Gunn deflated. “Spike, it’s not that I don’t want to help. I’m just swamped.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I can tell when I’m not wanted—shut it, Harris—so I’ll just float on down to the science lab, see if Fred’s in.” Spike turned to Xander. “Lovely to see you again. Be sure to sod off.” And with that, Spike swaggered off through the door.
Xander turned to Gunn. He looked a lot different than the last time Xander had been here. For one thing, he was wearing a suit. Xander desperately tried not to think about how good it looked. But besides the well-tailored fashion change, there was something else about Gunn. A different energy that Xander couldn’t place.
Xander returned his attention to the Peroxided Pest. “Is it me, or is he even more annoying as a ghost? Oh, and when did Spike become a ghost?”
Gunn sat down heavily. “It’s a long story. Really, really long.” Gunn shook his head a little, as if trying to dislodge the argument with Spike. He looked up at Xander again. “You’re here to see Angel again?”
“Yes and . . . he’s not here, is he?”
“Sorry, bro.”
“But Carol told me he was in.”
“Yeah, she just thinks that. Angel’s been slipping out the back way lately. It’s the only way he can go anywhere without being followed by the PR guys.”
Xander flung his hands up in despair. “Fine! I give up! I’m making something up to tell Buffy and getting out of this place.”
“Probably a good idea. Look man, I’d love to hang, but I have a bunch of stuff to read before Angel gets back.”
“That’s another thing . . . since when are you a lawyer?”
“Another long story. Look, I don’t wanna be rude, but I have to get this done. I’ll tell Angel you were here.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah,” said Gunn, who was already looking down at the stack of papers on his desk.
Xander shook his head and let himself out of the office. Things were definitely strange at Wolfram and Hart, and Xander wasn’t sure he liked the way they were headed.
Gunn . . . he’d gotten a really good vibe off the guy earlier, but now he seemed . . . off. Not bad or anything, just under a lot of pressure, and that wasn’t good for staying one step ahead of a place like Wolfram and Hart. And Angel had been mysteriously absent the whole time. What was that about? Were they hiding him? Was he evil again? And Spike . . . back from the dusty. Xander didn’t know what to think of that. What he did know was that he wasn’t telling Buffy about it. If she knew she’d be in LA faster than he could snap his fingers, which would mean getting caught up in a demented triangle of vampire boyfriends. It was the last thing she needed. She could finally move on with her life now. She didn’t need the past catching up to her.
Xander got into his car, fine-tuning what he was going to tell Buffy. He’d told Angel, Angel had brooded, Angel had seemed a little off. Technically he didn’t need to lie about Spike. He was a ghost, and so technically still dead. This would work, and wonderfully, would relieve Xander of any need to return to Wolfram and Hart ever again.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Xander pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the highway.
The End
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