"First Impressions," Part III

"You two are outta your minds!"

Gunn stalked down the hallway with Doyle and Cordelia skittering to keep up with his long strides. Cordelia was juggling both her purse and a modestly-sized axe, and she was wearing a rather chagrined expression. Doyle was less apologetic as he reached out a hand to try and get Gunn to stop moving.

"I know what I saw, man. You're in danger!" Doyle insisted, even as Gunn shook him off. He did, however, stop walking long enough to point an angry finger in Cordelia's direction.

"With her around we're all in danger. You're girlfriend nearly took Joey's head off back there." Gunn said with extreme annoyance. "If she'd used the sharp end, he'd probably be dead."

"That was an accident!" Cordelia yelped in her own defense. "I thought you were being attacked by a demon. I was trying to save your life."

Doyle shifted his weight, blowing out a frustrated stream of air. It was true, Cordelia had gotten a little ahead of herself, and as a result, she'd ended up knocking an innocent guy over the head with her axe, rather than a demon. Worst of all, she'd managed to do it in a room full of onlookers, who were all quite amused by the scrawny white girl who'd busted in on their training session to give their pal Joey a concussion.

It was an honest mistake.

"First of all, if that had been a demon, you should've been using the sharp end." Gunn pointed out. "Secondly, I don't need some skinny beauty queen trying to rescue me in front of my crew!"

"So you're mad because a girl tried to save you?" Cordelia cried. "Get over it!"

"Some weak-ass white boy who dresses like a pimp ain't no better." Gunn retorted.

"Hey, listen, bud. I'll have you know, I'm more than meets the eye!" Doyle argued. "And whether or not you want our help is irrelevant. I know what I saw in my vision. Big, angry demon coming to take a chunk outta you—without us, you're as good as dead."

Gunn rolled his eyes and whirled back around to continue down the hallway toward the exit. "There ain't nothing coming after me that you and Miss California are gonna be able to stop. I can take care of myself, bro." He thrust the doors open onto the street, and stood aside to let Cordelia and Doyle exit as well. "Now I suggest you get in your car and drive the hell on back to that fancy hotel of yours. You feel me?"

"Well, when you end up dead, don't come whining to us!" Cordelia said defiantly, turning away from Gunn to storm back to the car. She took only one step and then stumbled to an abrupt stop. "Um… Doyle. Where's Angel's car?"

"What d'ya mean, I parked it right…" Doyle stared at the empty parking space where Angel's car had been less than ten minutes earlier. "Oh, man. He's gonna kill us."

"I distinctly remember him handing the keys to you." Cordelia pointed out judiciously.

Doyle frowned over at his girlfriend, who seemed comfortable with throwing him under the wheels of the missing convertible at this particular moment. "Well, I think it's safe to say he'll never lend either of us his car again—seeing how he doesn't have one anymore."

"You were right the first time." She lamented, her brows knit together with worry. "We're talking homicide, for sure. You know how much Angel loves that car."

Gunn was glaring silently at the two of them, clearly debating what the quickest way to get rid of them would be. Finally, he sighed and his tone shifted ever so slightly. "I'll find the car. I know a couple guys who jack vintage cars in this part of town."

"Of course, you do." Cordelia muttered sarcastically. "And I'm sure they'll just give it right back to you if you ask politely."

"If I ask with my fists they might." Gunn shot back.

Cordelia gave a burst of mirthless laughter. "Wow. What a great plan! Did you hear that, Doyle? Gunn's got friends in low places who he'll beat up if he doesn't get what he wants—are we sure it's just one demon who wants to kill him?!"

"You want me to think twice about helping you find your damn car?" Gunn growled in rebuttal, causing Doyle to quickly step in between the two of them.

Doyle held his hands out in surrender, flashing Gunn a pleading look. "Listen, man. We're at your mercy here. If there's a way you can help us get Angel's car back, we'd appreciate it, yeah? And after that, we'll get outta your hair. Promise. No more rescuing by either one of us."

Gunn and Cordelia stared each other down for a loaded moment before Gunn finally backed off, shifting his eyes to Doyle instead. "Yeah, alright. I'm holding you to that deal, Irish. I find Angel's ride—we square."

"Deal." Doyle agreed, secretly crossing his fingers behind his back. They weren't in the habit of giving up on saving a life, and they certainly weren't going to start with Gunn's. But, for the time being, they had a much bigger problem to solve—finding Angel's beloved car before he knew it was missing!


Gunn slammed the door of his pickup truck and was crossing the street before Doyle and Cordelia had a chance to fully exit the vehicle.

"I've had it with this guy." Cordelia grumbled as Doyle held the passenger side door open, waiting for her to slide out. "You told me to be nice, so I'm being nice, but if I have to put up with his bad attitude for five more minutes, I am going to use the sharp end of this axe."

"Speaking of the axe..." Doyle noted, trying his best to be diplomatic under the circumstances. "Y'think maybe ya wanna leave it in the truck? We are walking into a party here."

"It's a party full of criminals, Doyle." Cordelia scoffed, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door behind her. "I'm definitely bringing the axe."

She stomped across the street toward the spot where Gunn impatiently waited for the two of them and Doyle scrambled to keep up. "Now, see, that's definitely the type of thing that could rub a guy the wrong way. Implying that these friends of his are criminals—it's a little narrow-minded, yeah?"

"We're here to look for a car thief." She reminded him as they approached Gunn, who gave them each a warning look.

"Alright, here's what's going down. You two keep your heads down and mouths shut. Got it?" Gunn instructed them. "Leave the talking to me."

"Excuse me?" Cordelia rebutted. "I don't need you to tell me how to act at a party. I may be a little out of practice, due to the fact I spend most night's hunting demons, but I used to be the most popular girl at Sunnydale High. There wasn't a party thrown, that I didn't rule over!"

"This ain't Sunnydale, Barbie. So, do me a favor—stick the axe in your purse." Gunn shot back, before clomping up the porch steps and heading into the crowded house, with his begrudging guests following closely at his heels. Gunn was greeted by nearly everyone he passed—most of them pleasantly surprised to see him, wondering why he hadn't been around. "Been busy, man," was his stock reply as he bumped knuckles with a group of guys, right before catching an attractive young woman who'd launched herself into his arms enthusiastically. "Veronica, looking good, girl. How've you been?"

"Well, would you look at that? He has actual friends that seem to like him." Cordelia observed, barely audible over the cacophony of sounds surrounding them. "I guess he is capable of being a people person. Maybe it's just us he has a problem with."

Doyle was several paces behind Gunn, controlling the urge to cover his ears to block out the blaring rap music that he could also feel pounding in his chest. He hated to admit it, but he would've gladly taken Barry Manilow over this racket. Thankfully, her one comment aside, Cordelia was following Gunn's instructions, perhaps, having realized once they actually stepped through the front door, this was not the kind of party she was accustomed to. She slid her hand into Doyle's and stayed close to his side, biting her lip to keep from commenting on the shoddy decor. The two of them certainly weren't going to blend with this crowd no matter how hard they tried, so getting in and out of this party without drawing any unneeded attention was the best they could hope for.

Once they made it all the way to the living room area, Doyle tried his best to look casual, slinging an arm over Cordelia's shoulders and waiting for Gunn to give him the signal that Desmond, the car thief, was on the premises. It was a good guess that the place didn't actually belong to anyone at the party; if one of them lived there, it was mostly likely in a squatting capacity. "Hey, this isn't so bad, yeah? You're always saying we need to get out more—go to parties. Be social and all that."

"This isn't socializing." Cordelia bit back at him, clutching the axe close to her chest. "I wouldn't be socializing with these people if someone's life—and Angel's car—didn't depend on it. But, you bring up a good point—when's the last time we were at a party I'd actually like to be seen at, huh?"

Doyle nodded absently at Cordelia, before catching Gunn's eye from across the room. The other man nodded toward a man holding a cold beer, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Ah… I think he found our guy." Doyle said.

"Of course. I bring up our sorely lacking social lives, and there's a conveniently timed distraction." Cordelia grumped as Doyle towed her along with him in the direction where Gunn had already greeted the probable car thief.

"G-Man, can I getcha a brew?" Desmond asked, indicating the bottle he held in his hand.

"You can give me the '67 Plymouth you stole from my place tonight." Gunn replied without preamble.

Desmond played it cool, not missing a beat. "What makes you think I'm the guy?"

"Don't play with me and I won't play with you." Gunn responded, looking anything but playful.

Desmond dropped the act, his face filling with contrition. "Hey, I had no idea—"

CRASH!

Doyle's head snapped up toward the wall of broken glass that had previously been a large picture window. Three vampires had leapt through it and made a beeline for Gunn, making it no great mystery as to why they had so literally crashed this particular party—their ease of entrance lent further credence to the squatting theory. Gunn immediately began fighting off his attackers, but behind the original three, were a group of other vampires, also leaping through the now broken window to terrorize the party guests. Even with the loud music still blaring, the screams were deafening.

Cordelia had been knocked away from Doyle by one of the first vampires through the window, she was in the process of picking herself up off the floor as Doyle was thrown in the opposite direction, unable to assist her. She stood out of the way, wielding her axe bravely, if ineffectually. Doyle punched the vampire who had taken him down, searching for anything pointy and wooden that might be of assistance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man they were supposed to be saving, getting the snot beaten out of him by three other vampires.

Gunn's arms were pinned to the wall, while a third vamp punched him in the ribs. "Charles Gunn." One of the vampires identified Gunn on sight as he continued to knock the wind out of him, making an answer very much impossible. "You're a trouble maker."

An answer probably wasn't what they were looking for anyway.

As Doyle wrestled with his own vampire opponent, he was vaguely conscious of the woman named Veronica fearlessly trying to wrench one of the vampires away from Gunn. All she got for her effort was a trip into a glass cabinet and a shard of glass lodged in her neck. Doyle winced as he saw the very serious nature of her injury, but he was distracted by a chunk of wooden banister that had been knocked from the staircase, landing several inches away from his fingertips. Using all his weight, Doyle rolled just far enough so that his hand could wrap around the thick shard of wood and he plunged it deep into the heart of the vampire on top of him. Seconds later he was covered in dust, and hastily pulling himself off the floor, ready to jump back into action depending on who needed his help the most.

He searched for Cordelia first and foremost, and saw her in a corner across the room, with her arms around the girl named Veronica, who was bleeding profusely from her neck wound. Cordelia had ripped one of the sleeves off her white sweater and was using it to apply pressure to the woman's wound—hopefully, buying them enough time to get her proper medical attention. Cordelia's eyes briefly lifted toward Doyle and he could see the desperation in them. She shook her head with worry and silently mouthed. "It's bad."

To his left, Doyle could see Gunn fighting back against the vamps that had targeted him, getting assistance from some of the other party-goers. Cordelia and Veronica looked about as safe as they were going to get under the circumstances, so Doyle rushed to Gunn's aid, easily staking one of the vampires whose back was turned away from him. The last remaining vampire, seeing that most of his friends were now littering the floorboards or had already had their fill and left, swiftly backed away and jumped out the broken window, leaving the scene of mass destruction behind him.

"Doyle!" Cordelia's voice cut through the aftermath, and he raced to her side, squatting down beside her to help assess Veronica's condition. It didn't take any kind of medical expertise to see that it wasn't good. Bright red blood had soaked all the way through the piece of cloth Cordelia held against the girl's neck and she was ripping another strip from the bottom of her sweater to add to the mound of cloth under her hand. "We need to get her to the hospital. Now!"

Doyle wasn't going to disagree, slipping his arms underneath the prone body of the dying woman, he lifted her, while Cordelia kept her hands firmly against the woman's neck. They were going to have to move as one in order to make this work, so it was a good thing they had a lot of practice doing exactly that. Gunn stepped out of what remained of the crowd, his face losing some of its color. "Nah, man... Veronica. This shouldn't have happened. Those vamps were after me, not her."

"She's not dead." Doyle pointed out. "But we've gotta move if ya wanna keep it that way."

"Yeah, I wanna keep it that way..." Gunn assured Doyle, visibly wrangling in his emotions. He hurriedly led the way out the front door and to his truck waiting across the street. Doyle and Cordelia moved swiftly behind him, in perfect unison, working together to keep Veronica alive.