8:19 AM
Gunn knocked on Fred's door and heard nervous, hiccupping giggles from inside. Cocking his head, he stepped inside.
And was greeted by the sight of the wild haired woman tearing strips of wall paper clear off.
"Fred!" Gunn ran over, grabbing onto her and bodily lifting her up and away from the destruction. Her fingers were bloody "What are you doing?" She shook in his grip, her glasses bobbing at the edge of her nose.
"Just making it go away. Making it all go away." She cried. Then her nails dug into his forearms and Gunn bit back a whimper at the sting as thin threads of blood trickled free from the ten tiny wounds.
"Make what go away?" He asked instead, gripping her shoulders.
"Bad things." She said, then went still and stopped struggling. "Bad things from the earth. I can hear it."
Gunn blanched.
"Wesley!" Gunn yelled. "Get yo' English ass UP HERE NOW!" He heard heavy foot steps on the stairs, like someone was taking two steps at a time, and then Wesley slammed into the room, the door banging off the wall and almost swinging back into his face.
"What?" He asked, hands raised at the scene before him. Looking harried and irritated. "What's wrong?"
"I think our little Fred here has been hiding something from us."
"Indeed?"
"Somethin' important. Like the fact that she might know somethin' about the end of the world." Wesley's eyes bore into Gunn's, and then he softened his expression, turning to Fred.
"Fred." Wesley began quietly, staying an unthreatening distance away when the Pylean swung free of Gunn's grip and ran to the wall, bouncing from side to side on the balls of her feet. Searching the writings for something important. "Fred, what do you know about the end of the world?"
Fred put her hands over her ears.
"I can hear it." She whispered. "So sad. So sad. I don't wanna hear it any more." Wesley went to stand next to her as she ran her fingers over the wall, following some pattern that was known only to her. "She will die. She will bleed, the heart." Fred shook her head then slapped her hands together. "Poof!" Gunn and Wesley both jumped at the loud sound. "Gone."
Wesley bit his lip, amazed.
"How do you know this?" He asked gently. She whirled on him, hair swirling around her face.
"When I was a little girl, a princess, because everyone's a princess. Except the Princes of course, unless they wanted to be, and it wouldn't bug me if they did. I - I walked, and I would hear things that made my parents so mad, so mad they whispered about it at night, and it made me sad." Fred closed her eyes and out of nowhere, she looked tired and beaten. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually so rude. Would you like to sit down?" She bolted toward him, and Wesley almost stumbled back a step before he could help it. Looking up at him through a curtain of hair, she dragged him toward a metal chair in the corner. "No. Not there. You haven't been bad. Okay. Stand. You can stand? You've got nice legs. Charles thinks so."
Gunn coughed, choking on his own tongue, and Wesley just stared. "You are going to save the world?" Fred asked then, her voice child-like and innocent. "That's so nice of you."
"I'm going to try." Wesley told her and tried make her focus on his eyes with a finger at her chin. "I need your help Fred. I need you to come down stairs with me, and look at some words on paper. You can do that right? You like words." Fred smiled nervously, fidgeting with her hands.
"I like words. Words are letters, and letters are like puzzles?� I like puzzles."
"Mmm-hmm." Wesley took her by the hand in a light grip, and began leading her toward the door. She dug her heels in when she realized where they were going.
"No!" She started shaking her head, the muscles in her arms trembled like she was an agitated mare. "No! I won't go out there. Bad things. There are so many bad, bad things."
"You used to go out there Fred. It's time again."
"NO!" She tried to jerk her hand free, but he wouldn't let her go. Gunn came up and stood behind her, just in case she tried to run.
"Yes. Listen." Wesley ordered. "You will come downstairs with me, because it's your duty, with whatever power you have, to help us protect the world. Do you understand me? We can make the sadness stop." She stilled, before speaking very quietly.
"The heart is so sad. I want to make it stop."
"Then take control, Fred. Make it stop."
She looked at the doorway, her lips pursed up tight, like they had strings pulling at them.
* * *
12:00 PM
Gunn stood at the edge of the office, feeling useless and big. Fred, with her small hands and pretty face hiding the mind of something special. Gunn found himself oddly jealous. Or maybe not so oddly, because in that moment, Wesley's hand came up to rest on Fred's shoulder, and she grinned at him. [Sure the grin was a bit insane-like, but it was a grin, a BIG one.]
Shit, he had bigger things to worry about. Like the coming doom of the entire world. If the prophecy was worth the paper it was printed on, things unlike he'd ever seen were going down, and he needed to be prepared. But how the hell did English expect him to save the world, when he hadn't been able to save his own sister?
Useless.
Wesley glanced up at him, eyebrows furrowed. Gunn wiped off whatever might have been on his face. Yeah, just look like a soldier or maybe a statue, and he won't ask any of his questions. Wes hesitated, but eventually he dropped his head back to the papers in front of him.
"What do you hear when you look at this letter, Fred?"
Fred's eyes were on Gunn however, and once more, she wasn't paying attention. "What do you hear?" Wesley asked again, tapping Fred's hand. She jerked her eyes to him.
"Loneliness." Fred replied, gaze bouncing toward the black man again.
"What?" Wesley looked back down at the letter in confusion. Gunn left the room.
"Huh?" Fred seemed as lost as he was.
"Okay, Fred - we NEED to get this translated or else nothing is going to matter in the long run. So you have to focus for me. Fred? Fred." She sighed, dragging her gaze away from the departing man and back to the yellowed scroll.
"Okay."
"Good. Now, what do you hear when you touch this letter, when you look at it?"
"The clock." Fred laughed. "Tick, tock. Tick, tock."
* * *
Fred walked back up to her room two hours later, black circles beneath her eyes. Gunn tracked her ascent sadly, watched as she trailed her slim white fingers over the banister.
"She looks like a hollowed out doll." He said to himself.
"It was hard for her." Wesley stated gruffly, the words not smooth like they usually were.Gunn turned to find the Englishman standing behind him with his arms crossed over his chest. "She opened herself up to a great deal of things."
"This is what we're depending on?" Gunn asked, nodding his head toward the ceiling. "A crazy lady who talks to the walls. Don't get me wrong, I like her plenty�?�. But she IS crazy."
"You saw what it was like in Pylea." Wesley replied, but he was looking at a trail of red sauce on Gunn's bottom lip. "You - have�?�" He pointed at Gunn's mouth. Gunn reached up and wiped it away, then licked the sauce from his fingers. "Where'd you go?"
"To that little Mexican Food stand down the street."
"I see." Wes pressed a hand to his stomach where it growled.
"I brought you food." Gunn held up a blue paper bag, a shy grin stretch his cheeks.
"Have I neglected to mention what a good friend you are?" Gunn's smile faded a little as he handed Wesley the food.
"Nah. You tell me all the time." An uncomfortable silence fell over them. Wesley tried to cover it by turning his back to Gunn and rustling with the food in the bag. Behind him, Gunn asked, "What'd you find out?"
"Oh, we have about twenty-six hours left to live." Wesley said calmly, setting the bag on the counter, and pulling out a burrito. "Now this is food. Sometimes I don't miss England in the slightest." Gunn almost missed the answer all together, since it was couched in such an easy going tone. When he caught it, he did a double take and grabbed Wes by the shoulders, spinning him around and shoving him back against the counter. Wesley smiled ruefully as the edge of it dug into his back. So much for quiet time with his stomach.
"What? Man, you're joking me here righ'?" Gunn realized he was pleading, and that he was probably hurting Wes, so he backed up a step, fingers clenching and unclenching. Wesley's skin was paler than usual, from knowledge.
"I wish I could say that I was." Wesley admitted, setting the uneaten burrito back into the bag. "But I know how we can stop it. It's all about prevention, and that's something we don't need mystical help for."
"What do we do?" Gunn's heart was pounding low in his gut, making his fingers throb. Fear tasted like copper.
"Ever seen the movie, 'Body Guard?' I hear it was quite a hit over here, a few years back."
"The one with Whitney Houston?" Gunn's forehead wrinkled. "Dude, you're cracking up."
"No. I'm trying to use up my supply of humor - just in case. Don't want it to go to waste, now do we?" When Gunn didn't crack a smile, in fact shivered, Wesley wiped the forced grin from his face. "Okay, listen. At 5:15 PM, at the down town International air port, an evil being dressed in a human disguise, carrying a gun will enter the airport. They don't go into details on his appearance."
"A gun? That doesn't sound apocolypty. That sounds like your every day bad guy."
"The evil being will have a target in mind. They don't go into details of who it is either. All the scroll says is that this person is in fact, carrying the heart of the earth inside their chest. The center of all the life is focused on the love of this person, their protection. If we fail to stop this being from being shot, if we cannot keep the blood of their heart from spilling free of their skin, the world will end in a simple burst of pure darkness. This planet, as we know it, will no longer exist. In its place will be a black hole, a void of utter despair."
"All this over a Slayer?" Gunn muttered. "What makes them so special?"
"This slayer WAS special." Wesley said, leaning back against the counter. "Because she held a great deal of love in her heart. More than any slayer before. And she has left a hole that weakens the earth, as her death was not meant to be. In fact, her sister was supposed to be the one to die. Buffy messed with the fates, and now it's time to pay the price. She was supposed to be alive, for future fights, battles. She was a CHILD of the earth. That is where she drew her strength from."
"That doesn't make sense." The younger man argued, mouth pulled in a tight, flat line.
"Situations like these rarely do."
"Twenty-six hours." Gunn nodded his head, mind on the weapons in the cabinet near Wesley's office. "So Wes, this might be your last day alive, what you gonna do about it?" Wesley could think of quite a few things, but he said none, and did nothing but shrug and walk away. He was getting damn good at denial.
Gunn stood there, the ticking of the clock making his skin twitch.
* * *
6:38 PM
Wesley knocked on Cordelia's apartment door. Seconds later, he heard the locks disengage and the door slowly opened inward. Wes stepped inside and Fred followed behind him, hunching her body, eyes flailing around.
"Dennis." Wesley said succinctly to the area where a lamp turned on. "We need your help. If you could keep an eye on Fred for a little while, take care of her, it would really be appreciated." Wesley could feel the confusion. "You've certainly felt the dreadful vibes in the air? After all, you're a ghost. Well, earth might no longer exist soon, but that's an awfully long story, and I have no time to tell it."
"Time. Time. All about the timing." Fred said softly, and Wesley felt Dennis's attention shift.
"She needs you, Dennis. Help us."
The ghost flicked the lamp light twice for yes. "Thank you." He brought the bags in, and in minutes was closing the door behind him. A breath whistled from between his lips in relief. One less matter to worry about. Fred was safe.
Inside Fred was glancing around the apartment.
"Never lived with a ghost before." She muttered. "Gotta be like standing on water without your shoes on. If ghosts stand on water that is. Do you stand on water Dennis?"
Dennis fluttered uncertainly. "Lots of pretty walls here." Fred said. "Do you have any markers?"
* * *
9:48 PM
"Ron." Gunn said into the phone. "Stop yelling at me."
Silence. "You know what we talked about before?"
"Yeah, man. I remember."
"Well it's the end of the world, gotta slide on those shit kickers."
"When do you need me?"
"Gather the boys and all the metal you can handle and come to the hotel, we can't hold our cocks on this brother."
"Are they coming?" Wesley asked when Gunn hung up the phone, leaving his hand there for a moment. Gunn turned.
"Yea'. They in." Wesley nodded, setting down a small dagger as he crouched on the floor. The lobby was littered with weapons. They were laid out across the floor like it was super market time in prison. Gunn maneuvered his way around a heavy mace. "Damn, we can't take all this into an airport, WE'LL get arrested."
"I know that. But we CAN take in smaller weapons. Besides, it never hurts to have back up outside."
"True." Gunn knelt down next to him. His shoulder thigh brushed against Wesley's knee, his shoulder - Wesley's side. Gunn watched the side of his face, and swallowed hard. "Wes?"
"Hmm?" He answered distractedly, for no other reason than the smell of Gunn's skin.
"Nothing." Gunn looked away and picked up a thin sword, tossing it up and catching it in a tight grip.
* * *
10:00 PM
The lobby was now filled with men and women. Boys really, who still didn't have to shave every day. Girls that ought to be looking through magazines or planning college. It hurt to look at them, Wesley thought. Made him ache to know what each and every one of them had been through, to bring them here on a night where it was raining like it never had before.
"Thank you for coming." Wesley said loudly, and they all settled down. Looked at the lean white man with glasses who was apparently their leader in this mission. The infamous Charles Gunn stood by his side. "Chances are, tomorrow will be the most important day of our lives. It will decide our fate, as humans, as animals habiting this planet."
Ron chuckled a little and Gunn's face turned to stone as he heard a thinly veiled insult. Wesley heard it too, but he didn't give any indication that he had. Just struggled on. "Each of you will be considered heroes, even if there is never a plaque given, or names carved into a wall. It is for us to protect our right to live."
"Yo, skip the speech brain, and get on with the plan." Ron said, leaning back against the far wall. Wesley stopped mid-point, his hands still raised dramatically. Gunn stepped forward, eyes hard.
"If you don't want to be here, Ron, you can leave." Gunn growled, even as Wesley gripped his wrist to say it was okay. Gunn shook him off. Ron eyed the exchange with a thoughtful look, before turning his gaze away as if the sight of them side by side were unbearable. "You're here to do something good, and he's trying to thank you, so get off that fucking high horse of yours and listen."
Ron didn't reply, his eyes said it all. Gunn glanced back at Wesley. "You were saying?"
"That doesn't matter." Wesley answered quietly and Gunn frowned, opening his mouth to speak. He was stopped as Wesley addressed the crowd of people. "The point is, tomorrow is going to possibly be the last day of all our lives, and it's up to us to make sure it isn't. We need at least ten men," at one of the girls looks, Wesley hurried on, "or women, surrounding the airport. With the bigger weapons of your choice." Some of their eyes lit up like a child in a candy shop. "And we need another twenty inside, with small weapons, such as this knife." Wesley held an example up. "It's not much to defend ourselves with, but�?�"
"We've defended ourselves with less." Gunn put in, shrugging toward the gang. "That ain't a problem."
"Good. Each person will be placed strategically throughout the terminals. You need to keep an eye out for a suspicious person, even if they don't look it, who might be carrying a weapon. A person with their hands in their pockets, or who is carrying a briefcase. Luggage. Pretty much everyone. We don't have very many details, but it will be a gun that we need to prevent its discharge."
"Who's the target?"
"We're," Wesley paused, glancing at Gunn who nodded for him to continue. "Not quite sure about that exactly. So a sharp eye here is the key."
"So let me get this straigh'." Ron piped up. "You don't know if this is going to happen inside the airport or not. You don't know what the guy looks like. And you don't know who the target is? And your running this op? Damn, there goes the neighborhood."
Someone laughed and covered it with a cough.
"Yes. I am running this operation, and so is Charles. I deciphered the scroll, the ANCIENT scroll, written in a language never before heard of, so I think I'm uniquely qualified to understand and fulfill the conditions of this mission." Wesley's voice had become the type of steel he tried to avoid, because it sounded like his father's. "If you would like to suggest that I am not fit to lead you, do so now. If not, we'll get on with this without your petty comments." Ron stepped forward, but a man with braided hair put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. "Now, are there any questions?"
A girl raised her hand. "Yes?"
"You got any food here?" Wesley's mouth opened and closed, and he tossed Gunn a look.
* * *
Friday, 3:33 AM
"You, Wes, you asleep?" Gunn whispered, across the room to where Wesley lay on the floor of Gunn's bedroom. It remained quiet so long, Gunn began to believe Wes WAS asleep.
"No." Wesley said suddenly, having reached a decision. Gunn didn't know what that decision was, but he heard Wesley rustling around, and then saw his outline as he strode toward the window and jerked it open. "I don't want to miss a minute. Do you know what I mean?"
"Yeah." Gunn tossed the covers back, shivering as he walked to stand behind Wesley and the cold rain landed on his skin. "I think I do." The clouds covered the sky; the moon was shrouded in mourning. As if saying goodbye. "It's like everything is alive." Gunn murmured in uncharacteristic wonder. Wes nodded, resting his hands on the window ledge, leaning out and letting the torrent of water pelt his face. "You'll get sick." Gunn said firmly, grabbing Wesley's shoulders and pulling him back inside.
Wesley's shoulder blades bumped into Gunn's chest. His backside was buffeted by Gunn's groin. They both froze and Gunn's breath hissed inward. "Wesley�?�" He groaned, a sound of need that coated the throat. Gunn lifted his fingers, and tried to gently turn the stiff man in front of him, but his fingers squeezed tighter than he could help, and there would be bruises.
He felt clumsy. Afraid. Looking into Wesley's terrified face, lit only by the light that had been left on in the hallway. Gradually, Gunn moved his head forward, feeling Wesley's shoulders grow more rigid beneath his palms. But he wasn't saying no, so Gunn pressed into Wesley's lips with his owns. The first touch was electric. The first taste was delicate. Wesley's breath poured out in a rush through his nose, bathing Gunn's upper lip. "Let me." Someone whispered. "I don't know who I am anymore." One of them said. "Please."
Hot, furious arousal tainted the air like a sudden bolt of lightning had struck.
Wesley opened his mouth and pressed his tongue gently against the corner of Gunn's lips, and his mouth immediately widened, to let Wesley inside. A hot puff of air against Wesley's cheek, followed by a little groan when their tongues touched, told Wes just how much Gunn was enjoying it. They tried to stay kissing, to keep their mouths pressed together, but they were so shaky, so much in need, that their mouths vibrated and bumped off of each other.
Gunn's fingers went to the snap on Wesley's pants. Tugged it open.
And then there was a knock on the door, and Ron's voice asking Gunn if he was awake.
Wesley jerked away as if burned, and Gunn stared with shock and something close to agony as Wesley pulled himself free of Gunn's grip and shot across the room like a wounded gazelle. He opened the door and almost knocked Ron over as he got out of there as fast as he could.
Ron stepped into the room, staring at Gunn's stricken face.
"Did I come at a bad time?" He had this smirk on his face, that concealed a little bit of hurt that he didn't want a damn soul to see. Especially Gunn.
"Don't you always?" Gunn slammed the window shut, the glass rattled, shattered. Ron's face burned in embarrassment.
* * *
1:16 PM
Gunn helped load up the last bag of weapons as fifteen guys climbed into the back of his truck, beneath the tarp. His eyes caught Wesley's as the Englishman climbed into the driver's side of the van he had rented for the rest of the gang. There was a moment of connection, but Gunn broke it by pivoting on his heel and shoving the bag furiously at Ron. Wesley didn't look in the rear view mirror, not even once, at the truck following him all the way to the airport.
They stopped at a red light once, and he wanted to. But instead started up a conversation with the woman on the passenger side who had bright green beads in her hair, about what she would regret if she didn't live to see tomorrow.
"Yeah," he wanted to say. "Everyone has regrets."
*****
Part 4:
5:00 PM
A person sitting in a rental car in the airport parking lot, took out a pistol from a paper bag, and loaded it.
The radio weatherman forecasted flooding.
* * *
5:22 PM
"I'm in position." Wesley told Gunn through the mike on his shirt. He got a grunt in reply. Another man lined up, and repeated Wesley's words. A plane had just stopped on the runway, and the bridge was being extended for the passengers.
"Set here." Gunn said, eyes scanning the crowd of tired looking people, dragging luggage along behind them. "Anyone see anything? And dammit, whoever's making sex noises, shut the hell up."
Laughter.
"Nothing." A deep voice that belonged to Russel, said.
"Ya' know," Gunn said a little lighter, "This is one of those times I'd like to have a vampire's ears." There were scattered chuckles in his ear.
"We all know how you love vampires." Ron pointed out gruffly. The laughter stopped, replaced by dead air.
"Get your head in the mission, Ron." Wesley said finally, focusing on Terminal 15, where people were exiting the plane from Dallas, Texas.
"My head's in the game. And its been a lot of other places too." Ron tossed back, standing at the baggage claim. Trying to be inconspicuous, he watched a woman in plaid pick up her heavy luggage, bound by masking tape to keep it from falling apart. Nope, not her. Stupid. He bet nothing was gonna happen at all.
"I don't care where your head has been." Wesley said, but it was a lie. Something about the way Ron talked, made him want to shove his English fist into that bastard's face. "Just shut up and focus. The lines need to be clear for any possible alerts."
There was silence for a long time.
* * *
5:28 PM
The last passenger to get off the flight from Dallas was an older woman in a wheel chair. A male flight attendant, smiling a big Jet Blue Travel Ways smile, wheeled her off the plane, and through the terminal. Her jaw shook, fingers weaving in front of her like she wasn't quite there. Veins webbed the back of her hands and age spots colored her skin. Her head lolled to the side slightly, and her wig fell off.
The flight attendant cursed, bent to retrieve it, but it was blown away by the fan.
Just then, the older woman lifted her head straight up like she had heard something. A sound as quiet and as loud as death. Wesley followed her gaze, toward a little girl with blonde, curly hair. She was smiling, and for a moment, Wesley thought she was a child welcoming her grandmother. And then he saw what looked like a toy pistol in her hand. Wesley jerked his gaze back to the older woman, who was now looking directly at him, with eyes as purple as twilight. A tear slid down her cheek.
"Oh my god," Wesley breathed, unaware that the words could be heard by the entire team.
Darkness descended mid-day. The sky turned black and hostile.
"What is it, Wes?" Gunn asked, but there was only static. Gunn's heart began to throb painfully. "Wes?" Again, no answer. "WES! FUCKING ANSWER ME!" The other guys were getting worked up; he could hear their breathing and questions in his ear. It disoriented him, made his thoughts bounce around. So he took the head set he wore off, shoving it in his pocket as he turned toward the sign that read, 'Terminal 15,' and ran.
For Wesley time slowed and sped up at the same exact moment, he couldn't move fast enough, and the little girl was raising the toy pistol, laughter in eyes that had turned as black as obsidian. He felt himself react, his feet moving, running. He had to save that poor old woman.
Her heart pounded in his ears. Her heart.
"Wesley, NO!" Gunn's voice did not penetrate the fog of his mind as the bullet ripped through his chest, lodging into his spine. Immediately, he dropped to the ground, face first. The impact didn't faze him. He was already too far gone too care. The little girl frowned, then raised her pistol again, this time without Wesley's body as an obstruction in the path of the old woman.
Purple eyes met black. Good met evil.
A crowd had gathered around the scene. Morbidly interested, terrified.
"How do you do?" The little girl asked as Gunn gave a roar like a dying lion and fell to his knees at Wesley's side. Forgotten was the earth and it's impending death. There was only Wesley. "Grandmama."
Her finger tightened on the trigger. and it was knocked from her hand. An inhuman screech rose up from the child, so loud and shrill that it burst the ear drums of a man near by. She looked up to find Ron standing over her, his face lined with sweat.
"You should learn ta respect yo' elders." He said. Then his fist came down hard on her temple, knocking her out.
Screams rose around them.
The little girl turned to dust. Only a weapon of destruction. An illusion that had lost its reason for existence. Ron stared down at the pile at his feet in shock, then over at Gunn's broken face.
It hadn't been as easy as it had seemed. A man lay dying.
Gunn pressed his hands tightly over Wesley's wounded chest, feeling the fitful heartbeat there. But the eyes were already empty. Head craned to the side, legs drawn up in an unnatural angle beneath his body. In that moment, the world did not exist for Gunn beyond the scope of his bloody hands and Wesley's vacant face.
* * *
5:30 PM
"Get up English!" He cried, and he wasn't the type to cry. Tears spilled down his cheeks much like the blood that ran steadily from Wesley's mouth. Bright, bright red against Wesley's pale, gray skin. "You're not dying on me, I swear to god, if you die. you're not dying on me." Gunn's whole body was shaking, like it was his soul being ripped away instead of the bleeding man's. He thought he was whispering, but his voice was a shout. "I'm the Warrior, dammit! You're the nerd, fuck, you're supposed to let me take the bullet. If you had given me a second more, just a second, oh god." He couldn't breath, Wesley's heart was slowing beneath his palm. "No, you don't! Don't you fucking dare. I fucking love you. You hear that, you son of a bitch? I love your lily white ass! It's all messed up and I know it, but if you die, I swear I'll do something. bad, I don't know what, cause my head isn't goddamn working, but it will be BAD."
There was a choking, gurgling sound in Wesley's throat, and Gunn cupped the back of his neck, lifted him. A wave of disgusting, clotted blood poured out. "Wesley.Wesley! I can't. take this again. I can't. Please don't die on me. Think of your fucking tea, they'll go out of damn business without you!" Wesley's body was limp as a dolls, head bent back, mouth grotesquely open. "This isn't happening."
Wesley's heart stopped. Gunn couldn't close his eyes, couldn't blink. He didn't know how to comprehend that his best friend was dead. That the man he was in love with was DEAD. "No." This time, his voice was a croak. "Someone help me." He looked up at the crowd of silent people, faces ashen; they held their hands over their mouths, hearts and eyes. Some shed silent tears, others made a commotion that seemed hollow in Gunn's ears. "Please. He needs a hospital. Someone fucking help me!" Gunn stood and the crowd backed up a step. All at once. "Please." He pleaded.
"Charles, man." came Ron's rusty voice from his side, he rested his hand on Gunn's shoulder, eyes heavy with regret. "He's gone."
Wesley's voice in his head: I don't want to miss a minute. Do you know what I mean?
"Fuck you!" Gunn threw Ron's hand off with a violent jerk of his shoulder. His body froze, and then something seemed to snap inside of him and out of nowhere, Gunn jerked at glittering knife out. He raised it up to Ron. Slowly, hands held up, Ron backed away. "You're gonna help me." Gunn said calmly, as if his reason for living hadn't just died in his arms. "And if you don't, I'm gonna tear you apart. Limb by limb."
"You're not thinking clearly." Ron said, motioning his hand to the other guys to stay back. They all stared in horror at the scene before them. Charles Gunn off the deep end was not a pretty sight. He was covered in blood, a vicious look in his eyes. Like he could kill till blood filled the ocean. "You need to get back yo' control, Gunn. It's me, dude. Ron."
"I don't care." Gun said, so hard and so cold - Ron believed it. "I'll start with you and work my way around until someone helps my boy."
"Gunn," Ron began, feeling a sorrow for the death of a man he had honestly despised.
"Shut up!" Gunn raised his hands to his head like his mind just couldn't bare the sound of a human voice. Someone in the crowd was weeping and he whirled in their direction. "Shut the fuck up!" It was his one opening, Ron was on him in an instant, bending his arm back. The knife dropped from Gunn's numb fingers and he was flat on his face in seconds, Ron's heavy weight on his back. One big palm mashed Gunn's face into the cold floor.
"Calm the hell down." Ron ordered, biting off the words.
"Please." Gunn whispered pathetically, eyes rolling up toward his forehead for a better look at Wesley's prone corpse. "Please help him." His eyes closed, willing the cloud of denial back around himself.
There was the sound of a wheel chair squeaking.
"I can help him." Everyone, hundreds of eyes and faces turned toward the sound of a rust bucket excuse for a voice, coming from the old woman Wesley had given his life to save. Slowly, with laboring breaths, she began to stand.
"Who."
"Silence." She ordered. And as she got her balance, something miraculous happened. A golden, green light surrounded her. And slowly, the skin on her neck tightened up, her back straightened, the age spots vanished, her jaw stopped shaking, and beautiful, ivy color hair began to grow from her bald scalp.
And everyone obeyed. There was absolute silence.
Ron got up off of Gunn out of sheer wonder, and Gunn immediately hopped to his feet, eyes wild. The now young, beautiful woman slowly walked to him, and touched a hand to his face. It was as if she had set free a lock inside Gunn's chest, bursting a dam wide. A wretched, choked sob worked its way up his throat, and Gunn found himself leaning into this woman's shoulder, weeping like a lost child, clutching at her fragile bones like she was the key to Wesley's life. To his own.
When the storm of tears that shook his bones quieted and he was empty inside, so empty he ached, she took his hands, and with her eyes on his - brought him to Wesley's side.
"He is a good man." She began in a voice as soft as mist. "He did not even consider the consequences of saving me." She reached down, and pressed a single finger to Wesley's heart. Gold sparks shot up from Wesley's chest, and his body jerked. Something similar to jumpstarting a car. "He may have even restored my faith in humanity. For now." She smiled, showing her teeth, and said again as if it were important. "For now."
Then she pressed her finger deeper, blood staining her powder pale skin as they slipped through the wound and Wesley's back archived up off the ground, eyes opening in that instant life returned and forced his blood back into motion. Gunn's heart began to beat again and Wesley coughed, rolling over onto his side and away from the woman who had just touched his soul. "Be happy." She said, and then stood.
The crowd parted for her as she walked away.
Gunn's eyes were wide in disbelief as Wesley flopped back onto his back like a landed fish, and tried to take a breath.
"Wesley!" He yelled, like he was talking to a deaf person. Wes flinched, bringing his hands to his head.
"Oh bloody hell, my head feels like I've been hit by a Mack truck. What happened?" Gunn shook his head in amazement. Filled with the most pure, undiluted joy he had ever felt. And before the eyes of guards, his old gang, and the world alike, leaned forward and kissed the living hell out of Wesley. Living was the key word. "Jesus bleeding Christ." Wesley said, shoving Gunn away after a long, drowsy, seductive moment. "Can't you see all those people?"
"I don't give a fuck." Gunn muttered, running his hands over Wesley's tired face. Wes flinched under the probing, trying to sit up. "You're alive." His chest felt like he'd been sucker punched, but the wound, as it was, had vanished.
"Apparently. And I do believe I need a vacation." He muttered and Gunn gave a hysterical shout of laughter.
People began to clap in confusion, as if it were all some elaborate show meant to entertain them.
* * *
Friday, 7:32 PM
2 weeks later
Cordelia threw open the doors of the Hyperion with a flourish of a movie star, expecting Wes, Gunn, or at least that weird girl Fred to be occupying the lobby. No one was there. Frowning, disappointed, she continued in, her heels clicking against the floor.
"Cordelia!" Angel growled.
"Oops!" She turned back, running quickly to hold the door for the vampire under a blanket, who was trying to get inside. "Sorry about that."
"First you try to fry me in Barbados and now this. I'm starting to get a complex about my self-worth." Cordelia smacked Angel's shoulder as he tossed the blanket off, stretching. He looked around the hotel. It looked much the same as it had when he left. Maybe a little messier. The weapons weren't pout away. But it seemed empty, alone. "Where is everyone?"
"No clue." Cordelia shrugged. "Can't you do that scenty thing with your nose?" She asked as she wandered over the counter. Her eyes landed on an envelope addressed to her. Cordelia's face lit up and she grabbed onto it with both hands. As she was opening it, Angel sniffed with exaggerated force behind her, than coughed as his unaccustomed lungs sucked air in.
"Well," he said darkly, coming up behind her like an impending storm. "Something is definitely not right. I can pick up their scents. But those are old. No one has been here for at least a week and a half."
"Mmm."
"Cordelia, did you hear what I said?"
"Yes." She waved her hand at him. "Now shut up. It's a letter from Wesley."
Dear Cordelia,
If you're reading this, I guess I'm dead. Kidding! Don't have a heart attack
and ruin your nails. My sense of humor got a jump start, so to speak. My sincerest
apologies. I do hope Angel is feeling better, he looked like death warmed over
when he left. Well. you the point. I'll cease trying to be funny. It doesn't
seem to be working very well.
While you were gone, I stumbled upon a prophecy when we raided the Serphor's
ritual feeding of their pet. I think we once had a discussion about them, though
in hypothetical terms as we believed them extinct. Well the food? It was nuns.
Turns out, the 'pet' - had come from the center of the earth when it began to
mourn the death of the slayer. Yes, far fetched, but the earth's heart had been
broken by Buffy's demise. Don't turn your nose up like that. You'll get wrinkles.
The prophecy, once I was able to translate it [no easy feat, but I had Fred's
help] - told of the end of the world. Before you get all worried, Gunn and I took
care of it. The heart of the earth was in danger, vulnerable, as it never had been
before. It WANTED to die. But I died instead, it brought me back to life. etc. I'm
kind of in a rush, I apologize for the condensed version. Basically, all is well.
Fred is staying at your apartment, Dennis is looking after her. If I didn't know
better, I'd say he's cuckolded you.
Gunn and I. are on a vacation. Together. Together as in, we're in love and we don't
care whether or not you approve. But of course, I'm sure that you do. You were always
making suggestive remarks about us that I just didn't grasp until now. And Angel has
no room to talk, after all - he slept with Spike for years. Of course he also slept
with Darla, which doesn't say much for his taste. If he gets his Shanshu before we
return, do make sure you take him immediately to the doctor. You never know when he
might get crabs.
Okay, so I might be the only one that finds that hilarious.
To the point, I'm not sure when we will be back. We'll call.
Sincerely and with love,
Wesley Wyndham Price
Cordelia stared at the letter, her jaw hanging down near her shoes. When she came back to her senses, she set the letter back onto the counter, and her gaze landed on a tabloid that shouted in a big, bold letters: THE END OF THE WORLD.
"Old news." She snorted derisively, picking up the tabloid and tossing it in the trash.
"What?" Angel asked, leaning over her and plucking up the letter.
"That's mine, thank you very much!" Cordelia said, grabbing the letter back from him.
"What does it say?" Angel demanded, eyes boring into Cordelia's.
"Geeze, making with the over dramatic today aren't we? I thought we'd learned that it isn't always attractive, hmm?" When he only continued to stare, Cordelia gave in. "Alright, this is the condensed version of HIS condensed version. The world was going to end. They saved it. Wesley and Gunn are having sex. And did you sleep with Spike?"
Angel's face went blank.
"Huh?"
THE END