[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part One 2/11 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part One 2/11

Author: Helen Raven

Email: helenraven at talk21.com

Pairing: Wesley/Gunn

Summary: The full history of the relationship between
Gunn and Wesley in the Birthdayverse. A novel in six
parts.

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, not even a blip
on the litigation radar.

The Story's Home Page: http://www.kelper.co.uk/kungai


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"Hello."

Just hello, not "Angel Investigations. How can we help
you with your question about demons?" Maybe
Wyndham-Pryce didn't believe in the hard sell. Or
maybe this was also his home number. Their home
number?

"Mr. Wyndham-Pryce? This is Charles Gunn. We met a
couple of weeks ago in that thrift shop on Denker. You
gave me your card."

"Mr. Gunn. Yes. Hello. Is there something I can do for
you?"

"Is this a good time to ask if you can get me some
information about a type of demon? If you're busy with
paying work, I can -"

"We're not too busy. What type of demon? What sort of
information do you need? And how urgently?"

"I have a friend, Anne, who runs a homeless center for
teens. At Normandie and 38th, pretty near Exposition
Park. She thinks there's a nest of some kind of demons
living in tunnels under the park. She's heard stories
from three or four different kids. She doesn't think 
they've hurt anyone yet, but she wants to know exactly
what she should be warning the kids against, if we
need to do something more."

"How consistent are the descriptions of the demons? I
should talk to the witnesses myself, visit the park,
but I may be able to eliminate some possibilities
beforehand."

"They're pretty consistent." Gunn passed on the
description Anne had given him, and the questions that
Wyndham-Pryce asked afterwards sounded good to Gunn:
like the guy really did know a lot about demons, like
he was trying to narrow the field from a list of
hundreds. Not that Gunn could give him any answers.
"No, I dunno the park that well. I dunno where the
tunnels go. Anne didn't say exactly where they were
seen. I guess you'll have to go down there."

"When could you arrange a visit? Would tomorrow
afternoon be too soon?"

Tomorrow afternoon? Boy, that was quick. Was that
enthusiasm or hyper-efficiency? Or was the guy just
trying to get him out of the way as soon as possible?
"That'd be fine for me but Anne'll need a couple of
days to get the word out to the kids. Couple of weeks,
even, if you wanna talk to all of them."

"No, one or two will be enough if I can find the right
pictures to show them."

"I'll call Anne, then, ask her to try for... Thursday,
two o'clock? When d'you need me to let you know for
sure?"

"Any time on Thursday morning. Give me your number,
though, in case I have to cancel."

Gunn gave his cell phone number, and then broke the
connection on that cell phone a few seconds later. No,
that was not a man with any kind of supply of
small-talk. Gunn had had warmer conversations with the
police, even. But he had set to work immediately, so
Gunn now knew that it had been a genuine offer.

Wyndham-Pryce was alone in the convertible when he
drove up to the teen shelter on Thursday afternoon. He
hadn't said anything to suggest that Angel would be
joining him and Gunn hadn't asked - but he had
wondered.

A man with no small-talk, and with no idea about
dressing for the occasion. He was in a suit and tie,
for God's sake. For a visit to a South Central teen
shelter. And with all those old books under his arm,
he didn't look like any kind of demon-hunter that Gunn
would want on his team. While Gunn was still standing
at the window, shaking his head, Anne had opened the
door and gone out to offer help with the books; Gunn
had not thought to mention to her that his demon
expert only had one arm. The help was refused, but for
a second there, it had looked like Wyndham-Pryce was
actually going to smile.

Anne had got two of the kids, Tony and Maxine, and
they were in the kitchen, drinking sodas at the table.
Anne did the introductions, then Wyndham-Pryce
immediately started laying the books out at the far
end of the table. Gunn saw the kids exchange amused,
dubious looks, and stepped in with the first
distraction he could think of. "That Dr. Pepper cold?
You got any more?"

Tony said, "In the fridge, man. Help yourself." A
pause, then, with a jerk of the head towards
Wyndham-Pryce: "Does he want one?"

Where the fuck was this Tony from? How come they never
taught him? A man's in the room, you put your question
to him straight. Or they'd taught Tony fine, and he
was showing what he thought of book-learning? Gunn
tensed up and looked at Wyndham-Pryce, waiting to see
how he'd haul Tony back into line.

Very short wait, because the English man was already
saying, "No, thank you." Not even looking up from his
work at the table, and his voice was totally calm.
Like he just didn't care? Or maybe like he'd chosen
his own way of showing Tony how he expected people to
behave. And Gunn wasn't thinking, "Where's your spine,
man?" - like he would've with any guy in his crew. No,
he was thinking, "Yeah, that works. On you, that
works." And seeing a way that the suit could work too
- that it might not be some middle-class,
out-of-his-depth, point-scoring thing, but just part
of the way this guy showed respect for clients: by
being well-groomed, taking the trouble to look his
best.

By the time Gunn came back with his soda,
Wyndham-Pryce had finished laying out the books and
had moved to the other end of the table. "Tony, could
you leave the room for a few minutes, please? And
please shut the door behind you."

"Uh, OK." Tony was clearly surprised, but got up
immediately, and shut the door quietly as he left. If
Gunn had tried something like that with Tony, the two
of them would have had to go through a few rounds of
joking and testing before Tony could have left. Yes,
the English guy did have something, even if it was
only the accent.

"Maxine, could you come over here?" Wyndham-Pryce led
the way to the books, and Anne and Gunn followed too.
"Is there anything on these pages that resembles what
you saw in the park?" Once Maxine had started looking
at the book, Wyndham-Pryce moved to the other side of
the table. To watch her expression? Or just to give
her more room?

"Oh!" Maxine was pointing at the second book of the
five. "It was this one with the -"

"A Massiac? But please look at them all before you
decide. Some of them look very similar."

Maxine did look at the others, maybe giving them more
time than she would have if she wasn't already sure.
Then she went back to the second book, and smiled and
nodded like she was greeting an old friend. "It's this
one."

"Thank you. Now -"

She grinned at him. "I'll leave the room. And shut the
door. And I know, I won't say a thing to Tony."

Again, Wyndham-Pryce almost smiled. "Thank you."

Tony chose the same demon, just as sure about it.
While Maxine was returning to the room, Wyndham-Pryce
closed and stacked the other books, then they all sat
down at the other end of the table.

"The Massiac are harmless. Beneficial, in fact: they
mostly eat rats. Some moles. There's no record of any
Massiac making an unprovoked attack on a human."

Anne said, "What about a provoked attack?"

"They will fight. And they can kill with those teeth
and especially those claws. Normally it will take
direct provocation. They don't eat humans, they don't
compete with humans. The only real danger is if you
get too near a clutch of their young by accident. And
at this latitude they're fertile all year round. But
if you know where the entrances are to their tunnels,
and you don't go closer than about twelve feet, then
you won't bother them. And they won't bother you."

Gunn said, "Are they intelligent?"

A brief shake of the head. "Probably not. No one
really thinks they have a spoken language. And if you
take one away from the group, it..." He shrugged. "It
goes into a catatonic state within a few days. Dies
within a month. So there are no records of one...
learning to play chess, say."

Maxine: "God, that's sad! I mean, I need my friends,
but... That's beyond pathetic."

"It's quite common among demons who appear to have
evolved under -" A pause and then the flicker of
genuine enthusiasm was gone from his voice and he was
back to business. "But that's pure speculation. Do you
know where the entrances are to the tunnels? Or do you
know how thoroughly the area has been surveyed?"

Maxine said, slowly, "I've definitely seen one
entrance. But when I saw the demons, they were way the
other side of the park from there. So there's probably
others, right?"

"Probably. Are there areas where you're confident that
there aren't any entrances?"

Tony and Maxine said together, "Yeah, most of it."

"I can start looking for surveys and other reports on
the park. But it might be months before I can come
back with anything definite. Can you avoid the other
areas until then?"

Tony: "Hell, man, we can avoid them forever. No need
to put yourself to that work."

Maxine: "Or we can look for that stuff ourselves, the
surveys. If you tell us where to start."

Again, Wyndham-Pryce insisted on carrying his own
books. Anne walked him to the car, waited while he put
the books on the back seat, then shook his hand,
thanking him for the third time.

"My pleasure." Finally, a smile, though a brief one.
He took another of his business cards from his breast
pocket and handed it to Anne. "Call me if you need
more information about the Massiac. Or on anything
relating to demons."

"I will." She turned to Gunn. "Thanks, Charles. You
won't forget next month?" Gunn shook his head, and
then Anne was on her way back indoors.

Wyndham-Pryce had definitely passed Gunn's test. He'd
shown that he'd meant it about working for free, and
he'd shown that he really did have something Gunn
could use for his crew. Watching him at work, Gunn had
decided that this wasn't one just to be kept in
reserve for an emergency, but that it was worth trying
to bring in, almost as part of the crew, and today, if
possible. Could be he had knowledge about vampires
that could help improve the whole way they worked.
When the three of them had come outside, Gunn had
immediately taken up position in front of the driver's
door.

"Man, you really are an expert. How long d'it take you
to find all that?"

"A few hours. Your descriptions were good."

"What would you normally charge for that?" Gunn tilted
his head. "In the middle, say, of your sliding scale?"

Wyndham-Pryce looked shocked, shook his head sharply.
"No. It was my pleasure."

"Just wondered. Case I ever meet someone who could pay
you what you're worth."

Another shake of the head. "No. I don't -"

"Well, will you at least let me buy you a coffee? Or
lunch, if you haven't eaten already. You like Mexican?
I know a good place between here and your office."

"We don't have an -" For several seconds he looked at
Gunn, almost frowning. Sizing him up? Wondering,
probably for the first time, what sort of person he
was? "I haven't had lunch. Thank you."

The restaurant was almost empty. Gunn picked a table
for them by the window. "You don't have an office?"

Wyndham-Pryce looked up from the menu. "Not any more."

"So the address on your card? Is that your apartment?
Or Angel's?"

"It's both. It hasn't been a good year for the
business. We've had to save money any way we can."

Gunn recommended the tacos very strongly, ordered them
himself, but the other man chose the meatball soup.
Didn't even order anything to drink, saying he
preferred water. Come on. No one preferred water.

Wyndham-Pryce had ordered the soup because it was the
easiest thing to eat with one hand. Gunn figured that
out the moment he picked up his first taco. Sure, you
could eat a taco with one hand, but it would be even
messier than with two hands. No, there was no way
Wyndham-Pryce was going to eat a taco in public, not
while he was wearing that suit, and probably not ever.

They talked about the teen shelter, about Anne, about
how Gunn had got involved with the shelter, and about
the crew. Gunn gave him most of the history, though he
didn't mention Alonna, and he didn't admit to just how
deep the despair had got after the vampires had moved
in, or how long it had lasted, or how recently it had
ended. Maybe Wyndham-Pryce guessed though, from some
of his comments when Gunn was describing the changes
he was now making, and those he was planning. The
comments the guy made weren't being critical, it
wasn't like he was wondering why Gunn hadn't made
those changes years ago - more that he wanted to
understand how Gunn kept up that pace. Gunn explained
that he'd just got a lot of ideas, all at once a few
months ago - hoped he always would have ideas, of
course, but no, this was at least twice his normal
pace, and though it was great, it was also good to
think he'd be back to normal in a few months.

Gunn had smiled as he'd admitted his limits, partly to
himself, thinking that the Gunn from the bad times
never would have admitted he had any limits, and
partly at the English guy, expecting some recognition
that Gunn had seen the real point of those comments.
But Wyndham-Pryce just looked more serious, frowned
even, though he looked down at his water-glass and not
at Gunn. Gunn was on the verge of deciding that he'd
made enough allowances now for the man being a
foreigner, not knowing how to behave, and that there
really was a problem with the guy's attitude, then
Wyndham-Pryce raised his head, looked straight at Gunn
again, and asked a question about the new weapons
training that showed how carefully he had been
listening before. The man was already interested in
the crew, really interested, already had ideas ("Had
you thought...", "Angel always says..."). Gunn would
ask him over dessert how much he could help, him and
Angel, set a date for their first visit to the base.

"The flan's good here. I always have the flan." He did
always have the flan, but this time he'd thought
through the practicalities, made sure he was
recommending something the other guy could eat.

"I don't have much of a sweet tooth." Gunn could have
guessed that. He thought the man had the thinnest face
he'd ever seen. How bad had that year been for their
business? Had there ever been a time when he had had
flesh to spare? "I would like a coffee, though."

Gunn waited until after they'd gotten a refill of
coffee. "I like the way you work. You and Angel. I
mean, I'm seriously impressed. What would you think
about teaming up with me and my crew? Whatever way we
can figure out. Like coming on patrol sometimes? I'd
like to know what you think about the way we do
things."

Gunn saw a gleam of startled pleasure, but it was over
in a second, and then Wyndham-Pryce was shaking his
head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gunn, but we couldn't do that.
It's not..."

"Charles." Gunn shrugged, disappointed, but still
confident he'd be able to keep Wyndham-Pryce in
reserve. "I guess you don't need more unpaid work
right now. Better to get out, look for business."

"It's not that. It's Angel. He couldn't go on patrol
with you."

"With us? 'cos of -?" Gunn nodded slowly, feeling
bitter but not sure yet how much he was going to show
it. "Yeah, I had a bet he wouldn't've been like that
with a white guy. Guess he didn't help you with any of
this Massiac work?"

"No! No. That isn't - He couldn't go on patrol with
anyone. I wouldn't be able to make him understand what
you were doing. Certainly not well enough for him to
keep focused on it for several hours. He wouldn't be
any use to you."

Sounded like an excuse to Gunn, and not a good one.
"He seemed pretty focused in the thrift shop."

Again, the shaking head. "He was acting on a tip-off
then. The tip-offs... They show him pictures of what
he has to fight. He can focus on those pictures, but
you can't rely on him for anything else."

How could anyone take that seriously? Gunn couldn't,
not for a second, not when he'd seen the big man
fight. That was a picture, if you were talking
pictures: of a body that was nature's gift to the
world, of fighter's instincts that Gunn would trust
with his own life. "I could draw him a picture of a
vampire. You must have hundreds in those books of
yours."

"Mr. -" Wyndham-Pryce closed his eyes briefly.
"Charles." Slowly, quiet and very definite: "Sometimes
he doesn't know who I am. You can't work with him. I'm
sorry."

Gunn found that he was able to feel guilt after all;
not yet over Alonna, but here, over this man he hardly
knew. What he'd seen in the thrift shop, yeah, that
should've told him straight off that there was
something seriously wrong with Angel. But he had taken
the man's reaction personally, let it bug him enough
that he was never gonna go looking for an explanation
that said he just had to ignore it 'cos this was one
white guy who couldn't be held responsible for his
actions. So he'd refused to see the signs that "Angel
Investigations" was one badly-injured guy with
glasses, an axe and a lot of old books, very far from
home, doing anything, doing the damndest things, but
still failing, inch by inch, to do whatever he'd
promised himself that he'd do for his friend Angel.
No, he'd seen all that and thought nothing except,
"Weird guy, alright. But I bet I can still get some
use out of him."

"No. No, it's me who's sorry. I - I guess it should've
been obvious. But... what's wrong with him?"

"Brain damage. It's a degenerative condition."

"There any cure?"

"No."

"Shouldn't he -" A pause. "Will he have t'go into an
institution?"

Flatly: "It would kill him." The look of bleak
determination on that thin face was chilling. "Having
to deal with other people, new people. He would be
lost. At least with me... He does always know that he
should know me. If he didn't have even something like
that to focus on, I think he would be lost, completely
lost, in less than a month."

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