[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Three 12/18 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Three 12/18

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 woke up very slowly after his neat, peaceful
sleep, and Wesley had to study him carefully for
several minutes before he was sure of his state. Angel
didn't seem aware of his surroundings, not of the
magazines or the chains or the door, just of the fact
that he'd woken up half-naked. Angelus would have
enjoyed that, thought it was funny or sexy, but Angel
acted shocked; he dressed himself quickly, acting
panicked, then he turned to the wall and shivered. So
he was in hell, and it would be safe (if not kind) to
go in and take the coat.

Gunn unlocked the door while Wesley stood behind him
watching the screen. Gunn had only opened the door a
few inches when it snagged on something on the floor
(the coat, he realised later), and then he heard
Wesley's shouted warning at the same time as the
vampire's snarl. Gunn jerked the door closed, slid the
bolts, then turned to look at the screen. Angelus was
showing his human face but he was halfway across the
room - and then he was out of view, come directly
under the camera. They heard his rage and frustration
at the protection on the door, but then a thud and a
brief sound of burning, and another thud and worse
burning - and then a long howl of pain and fury.
Silence for maybe ten seconds, then - so unexpected
that Wesley and Gunn turned to stare at one another -
ragged, exhausted breathing. Angelus never sounded
like that: so human. Like he had hopes that could be
bruised or even drowned. After maybe a minute there
was a long, shaking sigh, and then slow, dragging
steps away from the door. Wesley and Gunn looked back
up at the screen, saw a bowed, beaten figure appear,
and watched it make its way to the far side of the
room and then slump down against the wall with its
back to the windows and the mattress.

Gunn was the first to speak. "What's your guess? Who
the hell was that? Call me a sap, but that wasn't
Angelus."

"No, I..." Wesley was shaking his head, then he
shrugged and sighed. "I'm sorry, I really thought he
was in hell."

Gunn glanced up at the screen. "Well, he ain't on
vacation. Maybe we just found out that sometimes he
does fight back. Lucky for us he was too angry to be
smart about it."

A slow nod. "Yes. I've seen him angry often enough as
Angel. It's... recognisable. But does it mean we
should be chaining him after all, if we're not even
safe when he's in hell?"

Gunn shrugged. "Bit drastic, when he didn't even get
close. Sure we look out for any sign of him gettin'
smarter, but that don't look like the direction he's
headed."

They went training that evening. They'd done very
little training since Angelus had appeared that
Sunday, and they were going to have to train every day
from now on to get and keep in shape for Yan and her
colleagues. This meant they would be leaving Angel
alone for at least two hours every evening. As far as
Wesley knew, Angel had only ever had four visions
while he was on his own, and those had all been in the
early days, when he was lucid much more often, and
when he could give a full account of a vision
afterwards, analyse it, even drive to the address.
Now, if they missed the reverberation phase, if Angel
didn't manage to find the drawing pad on his own, then
they might not even realise he'd had a vision, they
might mistake it for a hallucination. Yes, they'd
already had to leave him alone several times since
he'd got so much worse - for over eight hours on the
night of the Hollywood-and-Wilcox vision - but leaving
him for hours every day, that was asking too much of
their luck.

Wesley put the problem to Gunn on their way to the
training session, and Gunn immediately suggested
getting a voice-activated recorder and setting it next
to Wesley's audio receiver whenever they had to leave
the apartment. Wesley had had the same idea, so they
simply agreed to buy one the next day, after Gunn had
done some research on features and prices.

After training Gunn dropped Wesley off at the
apartment and went to Caritas: his first Thursday
there in nearly a month. The boys were very pleased to
see him and the first half hour was solid catching-up.
They asked about the move, about the new apartment,
about how Wesley was doing and Wesley's sick friend.
Gunn told them some of the truth about Angel, using
Wesley's story about the head-injury and the violence
and mood-swings.

"But we're... We're gettin' better at predicting his
moods. And the way we've got his new room set up, with
the bars on the windows and the locks and everything,
well, we don't have to worry about him nearly as much.
Or about the neighbours bein' bothered by the noise."

>From the amount of questions the boys had, you'd think
they'd never met anyone before who'd ever moved
apartments in L.A. OK, maybe Piriti and Matt hadn't
ever moved, but Grouw certainly had, and he was acting
just as curious as the others. Suddenly, looking
around the table at the three very-different faces,
all with the same alert expression, Gunn got the
feeling that there was really only one question that
they wanted to ask: is the apartment a two-bedroom, or
a three? They'd been talking about it, the three of
them. Must've decided they couldn't ask outright,
would just wait for Gunn to let something slip.

So. Was it time to tell them? By the look of them,
they already thought they knew, and it wasn't gonna
freak them out. They never talked about sex, the four
of them, which was kinda odd, now Gunn thought about
it. When he was alone with Matt or with Grouw and the
duals, then, yeah, the subject of dating had come up,
like it would in your average conversation. So the
difference when it was the four of them, was that
because of Piriti, the way he was with his brother? Or
because the three boys hadn't all figured out before,
what they thought about Wesley and Gunn?

So again, was it time to tell them? Maybe. After he'd
come up with some general comment to make about
three-bedrooms, seen if they looked surprised enough
that he could be completely sure about what they'd
been thinking. Gunn soon decided that his best
approach would be to ask something about Grouw's
apartment (since Grouw was the one with the two
roommates), but he got no further before the boys got
their song called. "Crazy Little Thing Called Love"
was their newest song and this time they did want to
talk it over afterwards, or talk it over with Gunn
anyway, not so much between themselves. Maybe they'd
missed having him as an audience, though they weren't
short of people now telling them what they'd done
right with the song, and those were all people who
sang, which you'd think would mean more.

When the visitors had stopped coming to the table and
there was a proper gap between songs, Gunn said,
"Y'know, I've just now thought... You guys've never
asked me when I'm gonna sing somethin'. Was me, I'd'a
made it a runnin' joke."

All three looked surprised, then looked at one
another, and then Matt said, "We just figured you
didn't wanna be read."

"Red? Not like I'm gonna turn beetroot, am I?"

Matt looked even more surprised, blinked hard. "You
hadn't heard about the host?" He gestured towards the
bar, where the host was standing talking to the
previous singer. "How he can read people's futures
when they're singing?"

Piriti said, "Well, it's more guiding them to the
right path. Giving warnings. Or if it's worth sticking
with something. He never acts like it's
cut-and-dried."

Matt nodded, agreeing Piriti had put it better. "And
some people just never want him doin' that, so they
don't sing. We guessed that was you."

"But you don't mind?"

Grouw shrugged. "We never tick the box. Don't care
what he sees, long as I never hear about it."

Piriti again: "There's a box when you fill in the
request-sheets for the songs. Whether you want him to
tell you afterwards what he's seen."

"Oh!" Gunn pointed to the bar, but without looking
around. "And I was thinkin' he was giving singin'
tips."

Matt said, "He does that too, but not for free and not
during club-hours. So when are you gonna sing?"

Gunn shook his head. "Nah, never thought I would, now
I know I won't." He already had his share of vague
warnings, he had no doubts about his "path", and he
didn't want anyone making judgements on him and Wesley
for what they were doing to Angel - because that's
what it would come down to.

When Gunn arrived back at the apartment, Wesley was in
the armchair with a book and a glass of Madeira, and
Angel was having a hallucination about being tortured.
Wesley had turned the sound off, but they didn't need
a microphone to hear this one.

"Or it may just be a nightmare. I'm not sure. He
definitely dreams, I've been seeing it. This started
fairly quietly with just some muttering and twitching,
and I'm not entirely sure that he's woken up."

"This is from hell?"

Wesley shrugged. "Or his imagination."

Gunn put his hand on Wesley's shoulder, standing
nearly behind him, having to be careful of the
side-table. "You OK, Wes? You know you don't have to
watch."

Wesley turned to look up at him. "I haven't been. This
only started a few minutes ago. And..." A shrug. "I
have nightmares myself. I think it's just a nightmare.
They never really last long. Whatever it feels like
when you're inside one."

The nightmare was over by the time they went to bed,
and the end seemed to prove that it had been a
nightmare. Angel had come awake in a flurry of panic,
and then when he saw where he was he sank into an
exhausted despair, too exhausted for him even to try
to hide. Wesley found that sight much more difficult
than the nightmare, and Gunn closed Wesley's book,
finished Wesley's wine, and took Wesley quickly to
bed.

On Friday morning, Wesley waited for Angel to fall
asleep and then went out to buy the recorder and
return the video tapes, expecting that Angel would
still be asleep when he returned so he wouldn't miss
anything except a few quiet signs of dreams. Gunn was
working on some research at the table, and with the
receiver over on Wesley's desk, he didn't realise that
Angel had woken up until he glanced at the screen and
found that Angel wasn't lying on the mattress any
more, but was standing a few feet away from one of the
windows, hand held up like he was testing the barrier.
Gunn left the table and went to stand in front of the
screen, and he saw Angel turn his head sharply at the
sounds of movement. Angel stared at the door for a
long time, and Gunn couldn't see terror, or rage, or
calculation - more... troubled thought, uncertainty.
Was this Angel? Was he finally lucid? Gunn decided not
to try to talk to him to find out, but to leave that
for Wesley; Angel hadn't known Gunn in weeks, and an
approach from a stranger was about the surest way to
drive Angel into retreat.

Over the next ten or fifteen minutes, Gunn watched
Angel slowly explore the room, heard him give a grunt
of recognition when he found the protection on the
door, heard him run his hands over the walls. This
Angel saw the camera and the microphone, touched and
tested the rings and the chains, moved the mattress.
He looked often towards the door and the camera, and
his expression of puzzled apprehension was always the
same. Gunn decided the search must be finished when he
saw Angel return to the books and the magazine. Angel
picked each one up in turn, smelled them, felt them
inside and out, exactly like he'd done before, about
five minutes earlier. But then he knelt on the floor,
his knees nearly touching the edge of the mattress,
picked up the magazine and opened it so it was half on
his knees, half on the mattress, and then he started
to read, from the first page, and with great
concentration.

Gunn watched the reading for a couple of minutes, saw
that Angel was reacting to what he read, bending
closer over the pages, getting puzzled enough to need
to drag his hand over his head. But it was obviously
going to be more of the same for a long time, so Gunn
went back to his research and checked the screen less
and less often as it just kept on showing him that
he'd been right.

"I think he's lucid."

Wesley dropped his bag on the couch and hurried over
to the screen. "He's reading! With both hands. How
long has he been awake?"

Gunn joined Wesley and brought him up to date with
what Angel had been doing. Angel was reacting strongly
to the sound of them talking, turning to stare at the
door, then half-rising so the magazine slid off his
knees then onto the floor. He looked afraid, and sad,
and resigned. Gunn thought he saw Angel's lips move,
but it must have been less than a whisper. Maybe a
minute of the staring, then Angel sank back to his
knees and picked up the magazine, but with his body
turned now, angled away from the door.

"You haven't tried to talk to him?"

Gunn shook his head. "Your department. Definitely."

Wesley took a deep breath then knocked on the door.
"Angel? It's Wesley. Can I come in?" No response. "I
know you're busy reading, but can I come in?"

A long pause, then Angel slowly put the magazine down
closed on the mattress, then got to his feet and
turned to face the door, all in a single, smooth
motion. "Will you bring Doyle in, too?"

Wesley recoiled in shock, but recovered quickly.
"Doyle isn't here, Angel. He's gone. I'm sorry."

"Just you, then." The tone was forbiddingly flat, but
it still sounded like permission. Wesley unlocked the
door, opened it slowly, took one last look at the
screen, then stepped inside. Gunn had moved away from
Angel's line of sight, and on the screen there was
just Angel staring, forlorn, with Wesley not yet in
view of the camera.

"I'm sorry, Angel."

"I heard him at the computer. He was always at the
computer. How long has it been?"

Wesley swallowed. "He died over a year ago. Fourteen
months."

Angel nodded several times. "And you?" A slight frown.
"You must have died after him. But... it's not as
clear."

"You -" Gunn saw Wesley take a step backwards,
staggering like he'd been hit, but then he caught
himself, stood straight again. "You think I'm a
ghost?"

"No. No, I know this is a hallucination. And him. But
- No, it can't be only a year. Of course you don't
really know. But I think it's much longer."

Wesley was walking towards Angel, hand held out. "No,
I do know that it was fourteen months. Because I'm
real. I'm not dead, Angel. I'm here."

Angel didn't touch the hand Wesley was offering, but
instead seized Wesley by the upper-arm - hard, judging
by Wesley's yelp - then buried his face in Wesley's
shirt, far too close to Wesley's neck. Gunn grabbed
the holy-water and ran into the room, but Angel was
already drawing back.

"You still use the same detergent. And that lemon
soap. And you still eat too much pepper. But there's
someone else. A man?"

"Yes, that's Charles." Wesley pulled his arm free and
turned towards Gunn. "Charles is always at the
computer. It was him you heard."

Angel looked at Gunn without any trace of recognition,
just for a few seconds then back at Wesley. "He
thought I was attacking you."

"Sure looked that way."

"Would I do that?" Still to Wesley. "I can't... I know
I'm not... who I was. But I'm not Angelus, am I?"

"Not right now, but sometimes you are. That's why we
have to have the room like this. I know it's terrible.
I'm sorry."

Angel looked at the room, to right, then to left. "How
long have you had to keep me here?"

"This is our new apartment. We only moved in two days
ago."

"Two days?" Angel looked stunned. "Not ten years?"

"We moved in on Wednesday the 14th of February. Today
is the Friday."

"And the year?"

"2001."

"So that magazine... I thought that must be... I
thought that didn't mean anything."

"No, it's the latest issue. Angel, you must be hungry.
I'll go and get you some blood. It'll only take a few
minutes. We'll shut the door, but I'll be back in a
few minutes." Angel nodded, and Gunn and Wesley left
the room together and locked the door.

"I'd've got the blood for you." Gunn had followed
Wesley to the kitchen.

"I know. I needed to get out. My brain's still reeling
from the ten years."

Gunn nodded. "Did he hurt you? Your arm."

"I'll have bruises. But I was expecting to have to
spend the next half-hour arguing with him about
whether or not I was a hallucination. I think I got
off lightly."

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