"I can't believe we're doing this," Gunn said. He leaned against the wall outside of Cordelia's apartment, arms crossed over his chest.
"Dennis was Cordy's friend, he should know what happened to her," Fred explained as she tried to pick the lock on the front door.
"Dennis is a ghost," Gunn said, as if Fred didn't already know.
"Exactly! He can't go anywhere, and no one tells him anything." She turned away from the door and looked Gunn in the eye. "It was different for us, Charles. We knew what was happening, and we could go see her," she said, referring to the time Cordelia had spent in the Wolfram and Hart infirmary. She turned her attention back to picking the lock. "He just kept waiting for her to come home..."
Gunn watched Fred struggle with the lock for a few more moments before it audibly clicked.
"I'm in," Fred whispered, standing up straight, one hand on the doorknob. She paused, looking back to Gunn. "What should I say to him?"
Gunn shrugged. "Just... tell him the truth, I guess."
Fred nodded and pushed the door open, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.
"You coming, Charles?" she asked.
Gunn was about to say no, but he followed her into the house despite himself.
"Dennis?" Fred called softly. "I don't know if you remember me," she began, and felt a sudden rush of cool air. He remembered her.
"I uh, have some bad news," she continued, stepping further into the room and looking around, as if trying spot him.
"Cordelia's not coming home," Fred told Dennis. "She can't... She passed away... " Fred heard a shuffling sound and then a crash; the chairs that she and Wesley had stacked on the kitchen table were now strewn across the floor, more than one of them broken.