[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Three 3/18 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Three 3/18

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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Angel didn't have any more hallucinations before the
next vision, or even the vision after that, but over
that time his lucid periods got steadily shorter.
Angel kept asking if he'd had another hallucination,
if he'd done anything else, and on the 20th of
December they had to tell him that he'd got trapped in
a vision for nearly a full day. They also had to tell
him that they hadn't been able to make any sense of
his drawings or of what he'd said or of the frantic
way he kept touching his face, and his arms and legs.
The drawings just showed people lying asleep, maybe in
hospital, and when Angel saw them he couldn't suggest
anything except checking hospitals, which Gunn and
Wesley had already done.

The three of them had Christmas dinner together. Or,
at least, they had dessert and a drink together when
Angel came out of his room late in the afternoon, long
after Wesley and Gunn had finished their main meal.
Wesley got Angel a sweater and Gunn got him a stack of
glossy magazines (as a joke) and a couple of books
that Wesley had suggested. As Gunn expected, Angel's
first reaction on seeing the gifts wasn't pleasure but
guilt that he hadn't bought them anything. Gunn did
better than Wesley at shrugging the guilt away. "Nah,
you can owe us. You think you'll sneak out and go
late-night shopping, or do it all on Amazon?"

Gunn's main gift to Wesley was a couple of bottles of
fancy strong wines. Very English, Wes said the wines
were, and the only sweet thing he'd ever mentioned
getting a craving for, maybe twice a month he'd get
it, at about eleven at night, when one small glass
seemed to be exactly what the day needed. Gunn had
thought about getting Wesley something to wear: more,
something that he would always wear, that would be
against his skin all day, on his hand, or against his
throat. But he couldn't afford anything that would be
good enough, or really imagine how he'd make it seem
natural, giving jewellery to Wesley. Maybe next year,
when he'd had more chance to find out if Wes would
really be glad to get jewellery, not just wear it to
be polite.

Wesley got Gunn a joystick and the latest Tomb Raider
game, which showed Gunn that Wesley must have been
keeping close track of which games sites Gunn was
visiting, because Gunn was sure he'd never said a word
about the game to Wesley. Gunn played for most of the
evening while Wesley read and listened to music, and
then they shared a glass of Wesley's Madeira. The wine
wasn't really Gunn's idea of sweet, but he loved the
taste of it from Wesley's mouth.

Two days after Christmas, Angel had a vision that
brought out Angelus. The vision hit near midnight, and
Angel was in his room. They hadn't practised with the
chains and gag since that first week after the
Hollywood-and-Wilcox vision, but Wesley and Gunn knew
each other's strengths and signals so much better now;
they had Angelus in the chains before his sounds
became human enough to be recognisable as words.

Another terrified "she", an address near Caritas.
Something was waiting for her, something that could
never see her as anything but food. And what food.
Such a store of flesh, the sweet, the salt, the
bitter. Bones to chew, the meats to swallow, and the
hot, rich juices. A feast. A feast to last for hours,
satisfy for days.

They had to wait and listen to every word, couldn't
tighten the gag until they knew that the vision was
over and Angelus wouldn't tell them anything more.
Gunn was brutal with the gag, and he knew it and
couldn't feel anything like guilt; not just bruising
but blood, as Angelus fought and Gunn didn't care that
the vampire was inevitably going to lose, didn't care
how often or how hard lips or tongue got trapped, got
forced against the sharp teeth. He'd had to listen -
knowing he couldn't kill - so now he was taking that
hungry mouth and he was making it feel.

Once Angelus was gagged they used crosses and holy
water to drive him back against the bed, and then they
tightened the chain that was fastened to the frame and
held Angelus by his neck and wrists and ankles. They
left enough slack to give him about six inches of
movement as he lay on the floor: enough for comfort,
Angel had said, but not nearly enough to give Angelus
any options for escape. The gag worked like it was
supposed to: they could hear the sounds of rage in the
living room, but not in the hallway or out in the
street.

The demon had dragged the poor girl up the side of the
building. They'd heard the screams - weak, muffled -
followed them to the alley, then seen the trail of
blood up the wall. Just in time. Just barely in time.
Gunn climbed up the wall first, since his two hands
meant that he had to be quicker than Wesley. When he
got through the window, he saw the girl, and she was
lying on her side at the far side of the room. He ran
towards her at the same time as he was reaching for
the sword strapped to his back, but then the demon
jumped him and threw him, and grabbed him and bit him.
His arms were held fast and he couldn't get his feet
under him, and he was yelling at the girl to run, get
out. And then Wesley was there and the demon had a
spike through the top of its head. The girl hadn't
run, had gone for Gunn's sword instead, though she
could barely hold it up with the wound in her side.

They went down the stairs and Wesley broke through the
padlocked door then drove them to the hospital. The
girl was seen immediately then taken away; sounded
like she'd be in for the night, at least. Gunn's bites
were going to need stitches but they didn't need them
urgently, so Gunn and Wesley settled in for more of
their waiting.

When Wesley came back with his second set of
magazines, Gunn said, "I wanted to kill him. Angelus.
When he was - When he was talking like that. About how
good the girl would... taste. I could feel the axe in
my hands. Wanted to take his head off." Wesley just
nodded, like Gunn was talking about something
harmless, about changing the colours on their website;
not about wanting to kill their roommate. "So, you
ever felt like that?"

Wesley shrugged. "It's just words. Yes, they're
terrible words, but they're not the same as actions. I
might despise someone because of his words, want to
avoid him. But to want to... do something in return.
Something that can't be taken back. That has to be
about what he's doing. Or about what he's - About his
failures."

"So you've never seen him when he's like that and
thought, 'He's evil. Solid through. The world
shouldn't have any place for him.' It's not natural
that - That he's not dead. Wanting to kill him, that
feels natural."

"You're not -" A sudden look of concern. "Do you need
me to stop you doing it? You have to be kept away from
Angelus? From Angel, even?"

"No, I can -" Gunn sighed and shook his head. "I just
- How can you not feel anything?"

"You're assuming..." A long, frowning silence, then:
"I can't get angry with him. I can't get angry. For
hundreds of reasons. So there are some things I don't
feel."

"You feel sorry for him." And Gunn couldn't feel more
than mild exasperation.

"That's - A small part of it. It should get easier for
you. I think. You'll tell me if it doesn't?"

As they expected, Angel had not turned back by the
time they got home. If he'd been quiet they might have
opened his door to check, but they were barely inside
the apartment when they realised Angelus was still
there.

In the morning, however, they did have to check. Gunn
stood ready with cross and holy water, and Wesley
unlocked the door and pushed it wide open. There was a
grinding of chains, a grunt or a gasp; and the sounds
were coming from the right place, by the floor on the
far side of the bed, so Angelus hadn't got loose
during the night. Wesley took the holy water from Gunn
and stepped into the room, and Gunn followed.

Angel was struggling, at the limit of his movement;
Gunn could just see his bound feet, trying to gain
purchase on the floor. And he was making more of those
sharp sounds deep in his throat. Trying to get to his
feet, tell Wesley to hurry up? Wesley rounded the foot
of the bed, stopped abruptly and then flinched back.

"God, is he still -" Gunn sprang forward, cross held
up to control Angelus and protect Wesley - and Angel
made a choked sound of pure terror, and struggled
against the chains in helpless panic, desperate to get
away from Gunn. Gunn quickly moved back to behind
Wesley, but Angel's panic seemed beyond reach. "Oh,
God." A whisper. "He shouldn't - He should just be..."
Angel should just be a bit shaken, kind of guilty and
ashamed. Nothing like this.

"I - I - We have to get him out." Wesley dropped the
holy water on the bed and crouched down with his hand
held out; he moved slowly forward on his knees,
murmuring reassurance, like he was trying to give help
to a wounded animal. Angel's noises did get quieter,
but no-one who could see his eyes would think the
change meant that Wesley had managed to gain his
trust. No, he was quiet because he was frozen in
place, bracing himself for something unimaginable. Or
could he imagine it all too clearly? Gunn couldn't
tell, not from the expression in Angel's eyes, but
when Wesley reached out for his face, Angel closed his
eyes so fast. Turned his head away so hard. Looked to
Gunn like he knew, exactly. In Angel's mind, Wesley
was the thing that made him live his nightmares.

Wesley loosened the buckle on the gag, talking all the
while in the same gentle tone. There was blood on the
leather, and at the corner of Angel's mouth and on his
chin. And bruising, all along the side of his face.
Wesley fell silent, leant over to ease his hand under
Angel's head and slide the gag out from under, then
sat back on his heels and didn't move for a long time.
Gunn wanted to say he was sorry, for the blood and the
bruises, but this wasn't the right time to say
anything.

Angel gradually got calmer, or maybe he was just
exhausted. His eyes were still closed, but he had
given up on the fight. No longer trying to brace
himself, no longer trying to get away.

Wesley reached into his pocket for his set of keys to
the padlocks, then leaned over Angel again and opened
the lock at Angel's neck. Angel flinched violently
when Wesley first touched him, trembled for several
seconds, then slumped again. Gunn knew that Wesley was
going to release Angel's arms next, and he didn't make
any move to stop him, but he got the holy water from
the bed and took up position. Not needed: Angel kept
his hands behind his back even when they were free,
never looked for a second like he was about to spring
up and attack Wesley.

When Wesley was finished he got to his feet, took
several steps back, and then stood looking down at
Angel, frowning hard, rubbing his forehead with the
heel of his hand. Gunn could hear him breathing. After
about a minute: "Charles? Could you heat up some blood
for him?" Wesley hadn't taken his eyes off Angel.

"OK." Gunn headed towards the door. "You'd better have
this." He held the holy water up in front of Wesley,
and Wesley took it. "You'll stay there, right? Not get
any closer."

Angel opened his eyes when Gunn put the beaker of
blood down on the floor. The blood was only a few feet
away, he must be able to smell it, had probably been
able to smell it before Gunn had even brought it into
the room. Angel looked at the blood, then at Gunn
(starting to tremble), then up at Wesley (starting to
inch away). What did he think, that the blood was
poisoned? Was it even possible to poison a vampire?
What the hell could you do with a beaker of blood that
could make a brave man so afraid?

Wesley dropped to his knees. Quietly, gently, but
still an order: "Angel. Drink it before it gets cold.
Drink it. Sit up and drink it."

Angel stopped moving, stared at Wesley like he was
trying to guess what Wesley was planning. Then he
slowly sat up and reached for the beaker, still
staring at Wesley, and very slowly lifted it and
started to drink. After three or four mouthfuls he
closed his eyes, not tight-shut, more... resigned.
Waiting. Like he'd decided he couldn't guess what
Wesley was going to do. He couldn't stop him. Wesley
was simply going to happen. He didn't open his eyes
again when he emptied the beaker, but bowed his head
and turned his face away, like he was trying to curl
around himself.

Wesley stretched out to take the beaker from Angel's
hand then moved back again, taking himself further
away, almost to the foot of the bed. Silence, then a
long sigh, then: "Charles. I don't know what to do."

"Think we have to leave him. Looks like he wants to
hide from us. Kindest thing is to let him. But leave
the door open. Give him a chance to hear you workin'
and..." Gunn shrugged. "You know, being you. Not
whatever he... thinks he needs to hide from. And if
the door's open we won't need to do the police-search
routine whenever we wanna check on him. Can't have
helped. Not like he's gonna turn nasty and come
stormin' out. Is he?"

Wesley shook his head slowly. "I don't know. I don't
know anything about him. Not like this." Pained,
pleading: "Angel. This isn't -" A sigh, then Wesley
swallowed. "You're right. We should leave him."

They went to the kitchen together and Wesley washed
the beaker while Gunn started making the coffee. When
Wesley had finished Gunn immediately left off and
turned to put his hand on Wesley's shoulder.

"Wes. Wes, how you doing? You know none of that was
about you."

Wesley nodded and gave a shaky sigh. "I know. But it's
terrible to see him like that. No matter what it's
about."

Gunn put his arms around Wesley and held him close,
and felt how much Wesley needed to be held. Like their
first evening - three months ago - when Angelus had
hit Wesley in the mouth. How much would it have taken
out of Wesley to deal with this on his own? "You did
everything you could. Everything. You know you always
do." Wesley said nothing; became tense for a few
seconds, then slowly relaxed and after that Gunn
thought he could feel him recovering more quickly with
each breath, and was expecting almost to the second
the moment when Wesley raised his head.

"We ought to get down to work."

Gunn nodded and released his hold. "Yeah, we got
deadlines. Think I should cancel my meetings for this
afternoon, though. Not right to leave you alone with
him."

Wesley looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "No,
don't change anything. I can call you."

They worked together on research in the morning, and
after lunch Gunn left for an afternoon of meetings and
legwork. At about four, when he was well clear of the
meetings, Wesley called and asked if Gunn would mind
staying home from Caritas that evening.

"God, hadn't thought about that. Thursday evening.
Sure. He's not got any better?"

"I think he's still curled up in the gap by the
wardrobe. I haven't looked since you left. He's not...
It's more that it's one of those days when I really
need to cook a curry. As if it was a Friday night. And
it's not the same without you there to help eat it."

Wesley needed to go to the store and really didn't
want to leave Angel alone, so they arranged the time
for Gunn to come back and take over. Gunn called Matt,
who turned out to be still visiting with family in
Palm Springs. Grouw and Piriti would still be at
Caritas, though; Matt had talked to Grouw the night
before, and they'd been joking about choosing the
duet. Grouw turned his 'phone off while he was at
work, so Gunn left a message.

Gunn took a look in Angel's room while Wesley was out,
and Angel was still hiding in the corner between the
bed and the wardrobe. Maybe he was asleep? No, if he
was asleep he would be completely still. The movement
of his back had to be a slow trembling, not breathing.
Wesley asked, when he got back, if Gunn had checked on
Angel, and then they didn't talk about Angel again
until long after they'd eaten, when Gunn had come back
to the couch with their third beers.

"I think now that I will not argue with him the next
time he suggests that he's getting worse."

Gunn had to laugh; Wes could surprise him every time
with the way he put things. "Nah, bet he recovered
hours ago. He's just goin' on with this in case we
missed his point." That got a smile from Wesley but
there wasn't much else to smile about. "We don't have
to guess what triggered this one, do we? It was the
chains. Did you know he'd been chained up and tortured
for real? He has, hasn't he? Must've been why he got
trapped in that first vision, too. With the three
kids."

Wesley shrugged, then nodded. "Probably. Yes, I knew.
That was one of the reasons I was uncomfortable at
first about the idea of taking him to the drive-in.
But when his main reaction seemed to be to want to use
his experience to help us deal with Angelus..."
Another shrug. "I didn't think he'd forgotten what it
was like. But I thought it must be true what I'd
heard, that he'd... recovered quite quickly. I can't
imagine now how anyone could recover, if it was like
that."

"You want to go back to using the net?"

"Oh! What I want..." Wesley sighed. "You know what
he'll say when he's in a state to be asked. That
there's nothing more important than keeping Angelus
under control. He'll probably say it's even more
important now. Now he's getting worse. Because
something new might be about to happen with Angelus.
So we can't go back to using the net. We'll just have
to get used to this. Assuming he's always like this
afterwards." Another sigh, then Wesley's voice
lightened slightly. "We will get used to it. You'll
see. You'll probably be sick to death of curry by
then, though."

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