[Gunnwesley] Fic: Fray (Birthdayverse Realities #17, PG-13)

[Katarina Hjärpe]

Title: Fray
Author: Katta ( head_overheels at hotmail.com )
Website: http://www.geocities.com/katta_hj
Series: Previous stories in this series can be found on either of these 
sites:
http://geocities.com/katta_hj/fanfic/Angel/birthday/index.html
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2428742/1/
http://www.populli.net/gunnwesley/k.htm
Disclaimer: The setting and characters (Lois excluded) aren't mine. The 
story is.
Spoilers: Season 2 episodes First Impressions and Untouched. Season 3 
episode Birthday. (Obviously.)
Thank you: Jadelennox for the beta.
Pairing: Gunn/Wesley
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Loving people means they can really drive you crazy.

***

Wes had strewn books all over the table. Gunn ran his hand over one and bent 
down to read the title of another. Hauntings and exorcism.

”Client?” he asked. It seemed every time they talked now, they got into some 
fight – disagreement – over Mom. Work seemed a safe topic.

”Trouble in Silverlake,” Wes said, turning a leaf in the book he was 
reading. ”Most likely a poltergeist. The appointment is for five thirty. Do 
you want to come?”

”Yeah, sure, might be fun.” He frowned a little. ”Poltergeist? Haven't you 
already done those?”

”Once or twice, yes.” Wes looked up. ”Why?”

”What's with all the research? You know how to do this.”

”I did say 'most likely' a poltergeist,” Wes pointed out. ”In any case, it 
never hurts to be prepared. I should probably ask Lockley if she has 
anything on the location.”

”Yeah, that should work out well.” Neither one of them was on Lockley's good 
side after that shit Wes pulled with Lindsey McDonald. Gunn could understand 
her anger, though he wasn't sure why she felt she had to take it out on him 
too, considering that he'd been in a hospital bed at the time.

”She sounded really afraid,” Wes said, gaze back in one of his books.

”Lockley?” He hadn't thought Frosty the Cop did afraid.

”The client.”

”Oh.” Well, that was more like it. ”It's a girl, huh?”

”Mmm. She's very determined not to let the ghost drive her away – that's 
quite a good starting point, if it is a poltergeist.”

Gunn grimaced. ”Kind of a dumb starting point, if you ask me. Those things 
are dangerous, yeah? She'd rather die than move?”

”Well, I've never seen you back out of a fight,” Wes said drily.

”I fight my own battles,” Gunn countered, and for a moment there, he could 
see a glint in Wes's eyes, the promise of a laughter, and after the laughter 
some make-up sex, and maybe after that he'd actually manage to talk some 
sense into the guy.

There was a hard, quick series of knocks on the door. Gunn scowled, but the 
chance was already passed, and he went to open.

It was Alonna, standing by the rail looking up the stairs when he arrived. 
”You guys have mice,” she said.

He shrugged. ”Wouldn't feel like home otherwise. You didn't come to say 
that, did you?”

”No,” she said, taking her attention off the staircase. ”The guys and I are 
heading off to talk to some people. There's a demon causing trouble, and we 
want to know where to find it.”

”You want me to come with?” That surprised him a little, even if he liked 
the thought. Having him and the gang on the same case could prove awkward.

”No. I want you to hang with Mom while we're doing it.”

He stared at her. ”Come again?”

”She leaves sometimes, heads off while we're busy doing other stuff. Now 
that we're setting up the apartment and all – you heard about that, yeah?”

Gunn nodded, beginning to worry about where this was going.

”Anyway. I haven't the time to follow her around, so I don't know where she 
goes. I'd like to.”

”So it's not babysitting,” he said. ”It's spying.”

”If that's what you want to call it.” She shoved her hands in her pockets 
and leaned back against the railing, watching him closely.

”Maybe she just likes some alone time. Or she's looking up old friends.”

”Maybe,” she agreed. ”But she's acting all shifty about it. I don't think I 
have much chance to find out why, but she trusts you.”

”That cuts both ways,” he pointed out. He was starting to get riled up. 
Alonna had always been honest to a fault, and this calculating shit didn't 
suit her.

She shrugged. ”If you don't want to you don't have to.”

That was the worst part – he did. After all the bitching Alonna had done 
about Mom, and Wes backing Alonna up, he wanted to find out what Mom was 
doing. He knew she was all right, but he needed some way of proving it. As 
much as he hated it, going along with Alonna's suggestion might be his best 
chance.

Still made him feel like a snake in the grass.

”I'll do it,” he said. ”Just let me have a word with Wes first.”

”Sure thing.”

He slowly went back into the apartment, telling Wes, ”It's Alonna.”

”Mm,” Wes said, giving him a sharp look. ”Trouble?”

”Not exactly. But there's something I gotta do. You can handle the 
poltergeist, right?”

”Of course.”

”Good.” Gunn hesitated for a moment, and then started to leave.

”Gunn?”

He turned on his heel, wondering if Wes was going to start asking questions, 
and if so, what the hell he was supposed to answer.

”Will you feed Angel when you get back? That way I can talk to Lockley and 
buy some supplies, and then go straight to my appointment.”

”Oh. Yeah. Sure.” He gived Wes a relieved smile and headed out, grabbing his 
jacket from the hanger.

”So when are you gonna give me a tour of the new headquarters?” he asked 
Alonna on the way down the stairs..

”Ask Mom to do it,” she said. ”It'll be a good bonding experience. Anyway, 
we'll be busy.”

”Yeah,” he said. ”You'll call me if things go south, right?”

She stopped to grin at him. ”You don't trust us to handle things on our 
own?”

”I trust you,” he assured her. ”You know your job, you're good at it. But 
you'll still call me if things go south.”

She laughed at that. ”Yes, Mom.”

They both flinched at the careless word, and for a moment they stood there 
staring at each other awkwardly. Then Alonna dug out her cell phone and held 
it up.

”Will call you,” she said.

”Good. Get in the truck.”

***

Lockley cast one glance at Wes and said, ”Oh no. Not gonna happen.”

”You don't even know why I'm here,” he protested.

”I can take a pretty good guess.” She rose from her chair and started 
walking away, but he blocked her way.

”There's a girl in Silverlake who has a... an intruder in her apartment.”

”Mm, yes,” Lockley said, nodding wryly. ”And would I be wrong in assuming 
that looking into this intruder would give me an even better reputation 
around here? Perhaps you'd even make me an accessory in your little 
vengeance plans again?”

Wes stared at her, and she met his gaze, her jaw set.

”Very well,” he said at long last. ”I'll just tell my client that the danger 
to her life is too abnormal to be of any concern to the police department.”

Her eyes flicked away. ”You bastard.”

”This is a serious situation, Lockley.”

”Isn't it always?” She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, walking 
back to her desk. ”All right. What is it you want to know?”

”I need some history of her apartment.” He mentioned the address, and 
Lockley opened a couple of programs on her computer. For a while, they sat 
in silence while she worked, and then she said. ”Okay, it's in here. Three 
suicides, and one...” She clicked her way down some text and frowned. ”One 
heart attack that was investigated as possibly something more.” She looked 
up at Wes. ”Three suicides in the same apartment? What kind of intruder are 
we talking about here?”

”Do you really want to know?” he asked.

She looked down on the screen and muttered, ”I really don't.”

”Can you get me more details?”

”Yeah, it'll take a while, but sure.” She printed out the search results and 
called, ”Davis!”

When the man she'd called came over, she handed him the papers. ”Would you 
find me the files for these cases, please? They're all in the same 
location.”

The man looked at the files, his eyebrows raised. ”Absolutely.” Narrowing 
his eyes, he asked in a mocking tone, ”Is it haunted?”

”Just get me the files, Davis.”

The implications of that short exchange were very disturbing, and Wes 
scowled at Lockley. ”You told him?”

”I haven't told anyone anything,” Lockley snapped. ”You pick up enough 
freaky cases, people start talking. This has been a bad day for me, so cut 
out the third degree, okay?”

Wes lifted his hand in an apologetic gesture. The lines forming around 
Lockley's mouth as she spoke made him wonder how many bad days there had 
been lately, and how many more of them she'd be able to take. It occurred to 
him that no matter how bad things had been sometimes in the Academy, and 
later in Sunnydale, at least he had never had to face the solitude of being 
the only one who knew. Surrounded by people who mocked the very idea of 
ghosts and demons. What a horrifying thought.

”There is one more thing,” he said slowly. ”If you would.”

”What?”

”Lois Gunn. Is there anything on her?”

Lockley's eyebrows flew up, and after a second, she gave a brief snort of 
laughter. ”In your dreams, Pryce.”

”It's rather important,” he said.

”I bet it is.” Lockley leaned back in her chair. There was a cynical smile 
on her face, and she looked less tired than before, but Wes couldn't quite 
appreciate the change. ”Any chance whatsoever that this Lois Gunn isn't 
related to a certain Charles Gunn?”

Wes sighed. ”His mother.”

”And does he know you're asking about her?”

”Naturally,” Wes said without missing a beat.

”Good. Then you can tell him to come over here and ask for the info 
himself.”

All right, this wasn't going to work. ”Lockley...”

”Forget it, Pryce. I'm not gonna help you go behind your boyfriend's back to 
do – whatever it is you want to do. For one thing, he's a better guy than 
you are.”

”Yes,” Wes agreed willingly. ”He is. That's rather the problem.”

He tried to think of something more to say, some method of persuation, but 
drew a blank. She was right; this type of investigation was entirely 
different from working a case, from an ethical perspective. But what on 
earth was he supposed to do otherwise?

His job, he supposed. He drew his chair closer to Kate's computer screen. 
”So, what years were those suicides?”

***

”Hallway,” Lois said, pointing down the same. ”Bathroom. Closets. Kitchen. 
More closets. Bedroom, balcony, another hallway, more closets, livingroom, 
second bedroom. Pretty impractical setup, but it's a lot better than the 
basement.”

Gunn opened the bathroom door and peeked inside. Small, but well-kept. The 
kitchen was much the same. ”It's better than my place,” he said. ”Especially 
with no rent.”

”They're risking their lives daily,” Lois said. ”Sounds like rent to me.”

She had a point. After all, what was the difference between chasing demons 
for money to save the rent, and chasing them for the rent itself?

They walked together through the rooms, Gunn checking them out. As Lois had 
said, way too much space wasted on hallways and such. At least the closets 
might service for weapons – or maybe you could remove them completely, if 
the landlord allowed it.

”It'll be hard to fit everyone in,” Lois said. ”The apartment's big enough, 
but the rooms are small.”

”You could make bunk beds,” Gunn suggested.

She pushed a mattress away with her foot. ”Would you help out?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable.  ”If they'd let me. I'm still kind of lying 
low.”

”I noticed.” She sat down on a box – and shit, he hadn't even known that the 
gang owned enough things to need moving boxes, but he guessed it was weapons 
– and looked up at him. ”Is it worth it?”

Hell yeah, he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. His sister 
was off looking for dangerous demons and had specifically asked him not to 
come. His former team got all shifty-eyed when he was around. Sure, he could 
do his battles through the agency, get paid for it too which he never had 
before, but to say he had no regrets?

”It's not like I can go back,” he said.

She picked at the edge of the box flap, a line forming between her eyebrows. 
”I don't want you to feel that you don't have any options.”

That was so crazy he had to laugh. ”Mom, I never had any options.”

”Well, you should have some!” Her voice got shrill.”God, Charlie, you're so 
content.”

”That's an insult, now?” he asked, amused even though her reaction startled 
him.

”If you're staying with him because you think you have nowhere else to 
go...”

”I'm staying with him because I want to,” he said, fighting the impulse to 
raise his voice. ”I'm not wild about the gang finding out like this, but 
deed's done.”

”Well...” The words came slowly. ”If you ever change your mind, it's never 
too late, you know. There are people I could talk to.”

Gunn started to make a wry face, but it froze as he really paid attention to 
what she was saying. ”What people?” He didn't say 'you've been dead' but 
that was what he meant. What 'people' could she possibly know? Even before 
she died, she'd been a strip club waitress, for chrissake.

”Well, that would depend, wouldn't it?” she said. ”If you wanted to go back 
to school, for example...”

He laughed at that, a spontaneous snort of laughter that came from 
relief.”That's what you've been doing with your time? Educating yourself?”

”We're not talking about me,” she said but there was a shadow of a smile on 
her lips and even though she turned her face away he could see the eyeroll.

”Shit,” he said, feeling all light-headed. ”And we thought... well, Alonna 
thought... Actually, I don't know what she thought.”

”She's a suspicious young girl,” Lois said, still smiling.

”She's had good reason to be.” He watched his mother, trying to think of her 
from this new angle. You had to hand it to her, it was pretty strong to come 
back from the dead and not only deal with life, but try to make a better one 
than before. ”So you're at community college or something? What do you tell 
them? Is that where you go all the time?”

”Half of the time, I don't go anywhere in particular,” she protested. ”I 
just walk around. Find some nice places to hang.”

”What kind of places?”

She grinned. ”I could show you.”

***

Her places weren't quite the kind of fun he would have chosen, but they were 
sunny and cheap, which were two very good points in their favor. There was a 
corner of a beach, a lawn in a park, and three stores she declared perfect 
for window shopping.

It was somewhere around the third store that he hinted it was all getting a 
bit too chick-y for his tastes. She laughed and asked, ”It's a bit early, 
but... would cheap beer be more suitable?”

”Now you're talking!”

”Come on, then. It's only about twenty minutes away.”

They reached the bar – not a bad place considering its prices – and had just 
ordered their beers when Gunn's cell went off. It was Alonna, sounding so 
casual he got suspicious.

”You guys finished bonding yet?” she asked.

”We were just about to have a beer.”

”Oh. Yeah, okay, you can do that.”

His eyebrows flew up. ”Thanks for your permission.”

She sighed. ”That's not what I meant.”

Finding out what she did mean took a while. Lois was halfway through her 
beer when Alonna finally admitted that they'd been attacked by vampires, and 
that maybe it was a good idea for Gunn to come along for the demon hunt 
after all.

He gripped the cell phone hard, trying to keep down the feeling of triumph. 
”And what are the others saying about this idea of yours?”

”They're on board,” she said. ”And it wasn't my idea – it was Rondell's.”

His grip around the cell became even harder. ”Yeah?”

”Yeah.”

There was only one thing he could think of that would accomplish something 
like that, and it made him enjoy the moment a lot less: ”Are you guys okay?”

The pause following was short, but not short enough for him to think he had 
imagined it. ”Sure. All in one piece.”

”I'll be right over,” he said, hanging up. His beer was still untouched, and 
he pushed it over to his mom. ”You want this? I gotta go.”

”Well aren't you the gentleman,” she said, but she wrapped her fingers 
around the glass and smiled a little. ”Was that your boyfriend calling?”

”Alonna,” he said. Should he tell her what was going on? But it might only 
make her worried for no good reason. ”We've got some work to do. You'll be 
okay, right?”

”I'm old enough to take care of myself,” she said mildly, and then added, 
lifting the glass, ”Anyway, I can always bribe someone to join me.”

”Don't,” he said. ”You won't know where they've been.”

It was a joke, sure, but a warning too. He could only hope that she'd listen 
to it, as he headed out and back to the new headquarters.

Alonna had told the truth, mostly. None of the crew were very seriously 
injured, just beaten up. Alonna's face was so puffed up and bloody that it 
made him wince, but there were no deep cuts, just scrapes and bruises.

”You got anything from the guy?” he asked her, avoiding to touch her face or 
ask if she was okay. She wouldn't thank him for it.

She shook her head. ”He split when the vamps showed.”

”So what's the plan now?”

”Basically? Going around the neighborhood looking for trouble.” She stepped 
up to one of the boxes, pulling out a big axe.

”Okay, classic,” he said, noticing that she limped a little. He really hoped 
that wouldn't stop her from handling trouble when she found it.

”You bet.” She tossed him the axe. ”And since you're the only one who hasn't 
been fighting vamps, you're our main muscle.”

***

Ms. Guest, the client, was clearly a strong and resourceful young woman, but 
even so Wes could feel her tense up as they entered her apartment. She had 
good reason, too. They had only just stepped inside when the coatrack lunged 
at them, and as ridiculous as Wes felt fighting it, he couldn't deny that it 
was a fairly formidable weapon, as blunt objects go.

”What am I supposed to do?” Ms. Guest asked once the coatrack was docile 
once again. ”We'll never get the spell done in this mess.”

”Don't think like that!” he snapped at her. He'd taken a heavy hit on his 
bad shoulder, and the last thing he wanted was for this to drag on for 
hours. ”You need to focus on getting this ghost out. This is your apartment, 
not hers.”

”Well, it kind of is hers,” Ms. Guest started.

”Not anymore. Now, let me see some anger!”

She set her jaw and nodded, but it took the better part of an hour and all 
her chinaware in pieces before she had definitely moved from more scared to 
more pissed off. Meanwhile, Wes continued to set up the spell, having to do 
certain parts over and over as the ghost interrupted.

He had to hand it to her, though – once she got angry, she got very angry. 
When the ritual was finished and she yelled at the ghost to ”get the hell 
out!” her voice was so loud and shrill that Wes's ears started ringing. But 
it worked; the whole place got quiet. Fabulous.

”Congratulations,” he said, grinning like mad.

”Thanks,” she said, returning the smile. ”For, you know, all of it. So, what 
do I owe you?”

”Let me get my calculator,” he said. He only turned the other way for a 
moment, but when he looked back, her eyes... Seeing her white eyes, he 
hurried to stuff the calculator into his pocket and grab the cross around 
his neck. This was impossible. They had defeated the ghost, he was certain 
of it! So what on earth was going on – and what was he supposed to do about 
it?

What he did do about it was stand frozen as Ms. Guest tore down the wall and 
revealed the skeleton inside.

There was a lesson to be learned from this, he determined as he returned 
home. One must always prepare for all eventualities. Sure, the second ghost 
had proven harmless, but he had not even considered the possibility of two 
ghosts in the first place. That was unforgivable, considering the number of 
deaths in the apartment, and the son's disappearance - all of which he had 
known about.

She'd been very gracious about it, but he had given her a ten percent 
discount just to deafen his guilty conscience.

He felt tired and beat up as he stepped into his own apartment, dropping his 
keys on a chair by the door. His missing arm was hurting like hell, and 
during one of the ghost's attacks a large pot had cracked his cheek. All he 
wanted to do was take an aspirin, lie down, and forget about the paranormal 
for a few hours.

Gunn's shoes weren't by the door, though. Had he been home at all? Instead 
of going into their room, Wes checked on Angel.

He was startled to find the vampire lying on the floor instead of the bed, 
and hurried to kneel down beside him.

”Angel? Are you all right?” he asked, foolishly, he realized, since Angel 
couldn't answer him. ”Did you fall?”

Not that falling out of the bed would hurt him much – it might even be 
considered an improvement, considering that it took quite a bit of movement. 
Unless, of course, there had been a vision or something of the sort, and 
Angel had been thrashing around the way he did while he was under the curse.

Angel lift his head and sniffed a little in the air. Well, he certainly 
looked all right – or as all right as he ever was. He lifted his hand and 
touched Wes's face lightly.

Wes smiled, a smile that quickly vanished as Angel's face morphed into his 
vampire features and he attacked. The blood, Wes realized as he flung up his 
arm and tried to prevent those sharp fangs from touching him. Even through a 
band-aid, Angel would obviously be able to smell it, and he didn't have 
enough presence of mind to control his hunger.

”Angel, no!” Wes shouted, feeling the fangs scrape at his skin. ”It's me! 
Don't! No!”

He was convinced that he would die like this, his throat torn out by someone 
he considered a friend, but somehow his words must have gotten through, 
because Angel suddenly drew back. More than that, scooted away as if he'd 
been burned and sat down in a corner of the room, arms wrapped around his 
knees and rocking back and forth.

Wes slowly got back to his feet. He was aching all over, and he stared at 
Angel, wanting to reassure him even though he knew that it was a very bad 
idea. Instead, he walked out into the kitchen and opened a bag of blood, 
pouring it into a cup. His hand was shaking so badly that he spilled some on 
the table, but that seemed like a minor issue at the moment.

He returned to Angel and handed him the cup. ”Here you are. Drink this.”

At first, Angel just shook his head violently, but then he grabbed the cup 
and drank in deep gulps.

Wes leaned back against the wall, thinking. In a way, this was improvement. 
Angel had performed a physical action – a violent physical action, but still 
– and he had managed to pull back of his own accord. Which meant that he had 
recognized Wes as, maybe not Wes, but at least something that shouldn't be 
eaten. Not to mention that the headshake was remarkably close to 
communication.

None of that was very comforting at the moment.

He walked down into the livingroom and sat down in front of the television, 
without even the energy to make it back to bed. Despite his weariness, he 
didn't fall asleep, just sat there staring at the black screen and trying to 
sort out his thoughts, without much luck.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there when he heard a key being 
turned in the front door, but it was starting to grow dark outside.

Gunn turned on the light as he walked into the livingroom, looking surprised 
and a bit amused to see Wes there.

”Saving electricity?” he asked.

”Where have you been?” Wes asked levelly.

”Out hunting.”

”Alone?”

Gunn gave him a wide grin. ”No, with the gang. Can you believe it?”

Far too easily, and with dread, but he didn't say that. ”Do you remember 
what I asked you to do before you left?”

”Yeah, help with the poltergeist, but you were going to do that alone, 
right?”

”Right.”

”So how did it go?” Gunn asked, still smiling.

”Well enough. I wasn't talking about the poltergeist.”

Gunn looked puzzled, and his smile started to slide away. ”What, then?”

”I seem to recall asking you to feed Angel.”

”Aw, shit!” Gunn exclaimed with a grimace. ”I clean forgot. Sorry.”

”Was your gang's company too riveting?” Wes asked coldly. ”Or your 
mother's?”

”They're not my gang anymore,” Gunn said. He wasn't smiling at all anymore. 
”And I said I was sorry.”

Wes knew he should leave well enough alone, but his mouth just kept speaking 
anyway. ”If you considered it too inconvenient a task, perhaps you could 
have let me know.”

”Damn it, Wes, I forgot! What the hell is wrong with you? It's not like 
it'll kill him to go without a meal!”

Wes rubbed his neck, the sore area near the collarbone, hidden under dark 
cotton but very visible in his mind. Anger welled up in him, hot, dark, 
bubbling anger that he had to struggle to keep in check. ”No, I suppose it 
won't.”

Gunn stared at him, and then muttered ”forget it”, turned on his heel and 
left, slamming the door hard enough to shake the floor.

Wes closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the sofa.

***

The worst part was that Gunn had been having a pretty good day before Wes 
pissed all over it. Whatever had crawled up and died in that guy's ass, he 
didn't know. He tossed his bag into the truck and started the engine, trying 
to figure out a place to go. Cheap beer sounded even better now than it had 
in the daytime, and so he steered back towards the bar.

It was a lot more crowded than before, and once he'd managed to get the 
bartender's attention long enough to get a drink, he started looking around 
for any free spots to sit.

He saw Lois's face by a table and did a double-take, but then smiled. Of 
course, it made sense that she'd be here. She was the one who'd pointed the 
place out to him, after all. She'd already had two beers, though, was it 
really... but what the hell, she could make those decisions for herself.

Coming closer, he saw that she was with someone. Several someones.  He could 
only see the face of one of them – a young redheaded woman – but there was 
another woman with her back to him, a redhead too, though her hair was 
darker. And a man.

He frowned. He knew that man, he was sure of it. All he could see was the 
back of his head, a shoulder and  arm dressed in a fancy suit, and gloved 
hand – no, that was a brace, not a glove. Gunn started making his way faster 
through the crowd, his beer forgotten in his hand. He bumped into some 
people in the process, but he didn't care, he just had this growing 
sensation that this man was not someone he wanted around his mother.

Right before he reached their table, just about the time Lois saw him and 
lit up, his brain made the connection, and even before the man turned his 
head, Gunn knew whose face he was about to see.

”Lindsey,” he growled.

Lindsey McDonald offered him a pleasant smile. ”Charles Gunn, speak of the 
devil.”

”Charlie,” Lois pleaded, rising from her seat.

”You get out of here right now,” he told her, and then to Lindsey: ”And you 
stay away from my mom!”

”You can't tell me what to do,” Lois shouted in protest. ”Or him, for that 
matter.”

”I can do a hell of a lot more than that!” He grabbed her wrist, pulling her 
away. ”Do you have any idea what he's done?”

She yanked her hand out of his grip. ”I know what he's done, I know what 
you've done, and what that boyfriend of yours has done. And don't you lay 
hands on me like that, I'm your mother!”

”Now, everyone,” the haughtier of the other women said, sounding so amused 
Gunn wanted to hit her even though he didn't know who she was. ”I'm sure we 
can settle this in an amiable fashion.”

”Are you one of them too?” he asked. ”I swear, if one of you lawyers so much 
as touch her...”

”Lois represents a valuable investment to us,” the woman said. ”I assure you 
we have no intention of harming her.”

He stared at her, the cogwheels moving in his brain, and then his head 
snapped around towards Lois. ”Investment, huh? They brought you back. They 
were the ones who fucking brought you back, and you said you didn't 
remember.”

She cast her eyes down, looking vaguely ashamed for the first time. 
”Charlie...”

”That's not who I am, mom.”

Lindsey put a hand on his arm. ”Listen, Gunn...”

Punching him wasn't a conscious decision.Gunn didn't even know he'd do it 
until he had. It was definitely the right one, though. The pain in his fist 
couldn't hide the absolute rightness of making Lindsey's nose bleed.

The next second, Gunn was flying through the air, landing with a thud by the 
next table. He had no idea what had happened – no one had even touched him.

Lois had apparently figured it out, because she turned to the second woman – 
the one who'd been quiet so far – and said, ”Don't.”

”I'm just trying to help.”

”I know, but don't.” She asked Gunn, ”Can't we just talk about this like 
adults?”

”With them?” he scoffed, working to get his legs back under him. ”No way.”

Her jaw set. ”Fine.” She took her purse from the table and marched past 
them, through the crowd and out the door.

They all watched her leave in silence, and then Gunn stood up, slowly.

”What the hell have you done to my mother?” he asked.

Lindsey nodded towards the door. ”Are you going to follow her?”

”Not until I get some answers.”

”Suit yourself,” Lindsey said with a shrug. ”But if you don't go out there, 
I will. I'm sure Lilah can answer any questions you might have.”

”Oh, absolutely,” said the woman called Lilah. She still sounded amused, 
damn her.

”Don't you move,” Gunn growled.

Lindsey cast a glance at the other woman, the one without a name who'd sent 
Gunn flying without a touch. ”Right. Well, I'd hate to point out the 
obvious, but LA can be rather dangerous at night, especially for a lonely 
woman. As we've said, we have some interest in keeping your mother alive. I 
assume that you do, too?”

As much as Gunn hated admitting it, Lindsey had a point about the streets 
not being safe. If it had been Alonna, he wouldn't have let that stop him, 
but his mom had already been killed once – he didn't have much trust in her 
ability to take care of herself.

He still wanted to beat up those lawyers, but there didn't seem to be much 
chance of doing that with Miss Spoonbender around, and he sure as hell 
wasn't going to let Lindsey go out to find Lois.

”God damn it,” he muttered, and left the bar.