Power Play – Part 2

A few days later, Angel called me out to the lobby so we could meet our newest client. I hadn't even read the case file, because I really didn't care to know what we were getting into before I had to. Angel's eyes weren't red with tears anymore, but he did look like there was some rage boiling under the surface.

"What are you wearing?" he hissed as we waited for the client.

I looked down, remembering, only since he'd reminded me, that I'd burned all my suits in a bout of drunken guilt. So lately, I'd been wearing my normal street clothes. "Got a problem with it, Boss?" I asked him.

"We're meeting a U.S. Senator today, Gunn," he replied angrily. "You could show just a little bit of respect."

"Got no respect to show," I replied, keeping my eyes forward. He seemed to want a punching bag rather than a sympathetic ear, so I figured it best to just look straight ahead and get through this.

"If I didn't need you for this, I swear…" he snarled.

"What?" I snapped. "Gonna send me away next? 'Cause I don't wanna wear a stupid suit?" I knew it was a low blow, but I couldn't help but poke the bear. Not when he was staying silent on the touchy subject that was Spike's departure.

"I didn't send him away," Angel growled, turning and pacing back toward his office before composing himself and stalking back. "That son of a bitch left me."

"Uh-huh," I replied. "Wonder why?"

"Just shut up, Gunn," he said as the elevator doors opened. "Help me with this case and keep your opinions to yourself."

"Whatever you say…" I told him, giving him a look that said while I was backing down now, this wasn't the last time we'd talk about it. If I could goad him into talking about it, into saying what he was brooding about out loud, maybe I could keep him from going Punisher on everyone.

Hamilton stepped from the elevator, escorting a well-dressed middle aged business woman and a younger man in a suit. Something felt off about him, something about the way he moved.

"Ah, Angel," said Hamilton, placing his hand on the woman's back to show her towards us. "I'd like you to met senator Elizabeth Dearborn."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Senator," Angel greeted her, almost deferentially, shaking her hand in his. Angel was getting weirder and weirder. He hates sucking up to people and loves just pissing on anyone authoritative. And now he was kissing this lady's ass? Strange.

"The pleasure is mine, Angel," the Senator replied, reeking of upper class congeniality.

Angel gestured to me, "This is my associate, Charles Gunn."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Gunn." She took my hand, shaking with a firm politician's grip.

"And this," she said, pointing to the man at her side, "is my personal – "

"Vampire," Angel finished for her. Ah, that's what was off about him! Damn undead.

"Oh, that's right!" Senator Dearborn nodded. "I always forget your kind can … sense each other."

Angel nodded, leaving a breath of space before he changed the topic. "I'm surprised you came to us with this problem, Senator."

"Oh, I've had dealings with this firm for a long time. Back to the days when Holland Manners was in charge."

"You'll find," I spoke up, "we run things a little differently now."

"I'm sure," she said politely, meeting my eyes for an uncomfortable length of time.

Angel cleared his throat, sweeping an arm toward the conference room and saying, "Shall we?" As he turned, he called out, "Harmony, would you get us some coffee?"

"Oh, no coffee for me, thanks. But," she smiled and pointed to her aide again, "I think Ernesto could use some blood."

"Virgin if you have it," the vamp requested. Damn, what kind of business did Manners run here? Asking for virgin blood like it was a fucking cola? God, please help me get through this.

Harmony looked to Angel for instruction since all consumption of human blood had been banned from the building when we took over. Angel turned to the Senator, "We've got a strict policy of no human blood."

"If you want," Harmony offered. "I could get you something in a rodent. We have a nice, unassuming vole…"

"Surely an exception can be made," Hamilton cut in, "for the Senator's aide."

"Look," I said. "I don't know how things worked around here when Holland Manners was in charge, but –"

Angel held up a hand to cut me off. "Harmony," he said, looking around me toward her, "go to the lab and see if the blood bank has something suitable."

"Sure thing, Boss," she replied, looking about as confused as I felt. She turned to go follow his orders, but turned back after half a second. "While I'm there," she said, trying to sound innocent and persuasive, "can I have a teeny, tiny…"

"No," Angel answered her definitively, making her pout before she flounced away. Turning his attention back to the Senator, Angel continued, "Now, let's discuss what Wolfram and Hart can do for you."

I shook my head at Angel's words. Never before had he really included himself as part of Wolfram and Hart. It was always this separate entity, something he controlled, but was never really a part of. This was getting bad, and I wondered if I would know when to call it quits and get out before I went down this path with him.

In the conference room, everyone got settled and the Senator's aide, Ernesto, handed me a videotape, which I popped into the TV at the side of the room. It showed a political ad for the Senator's rival, Henry Vernon, and it was full of disgustingly sweet wholesome family values and meaningless rhetoric.

When it was done, the Senator said, "See? This whole 'your home is his work' angle is genius and it's really hurting us at the polls."

"The add is playing very well with the female population," the aide mentioned, taking the tape back from me and sitting down next to his boss. I sat across from them, trying not to imagine plunging a stake into this vamp's heart over and over again.

"And those voters were mine," Dearborn complained. "I had a lock on the chick vote. I didn't crawl my way up from hell and get installed in a human body to lose to some…pedophile!"

"He's a pedophile?" I asked, flipping through the case file in front of me for some indication that this Vernon guy was something other than what he seemed to be. But there was nothing.

"Not yet," the Senator said with a smile that reminded me of an evil cartoon villain. "But you're going to make him into one."

"What?" I asked, looking to Angel for some indication that his outrage would match mine, but he was as calm as a cucumber. What the fuck was going on?

"I've heard you've got some great brainwashing facilities here. Hell, you could even make him think he's actually a monster. What was that doctor's name?" she asked, turning to her aide as I watched the proceedings, jaw clenched tightly.

"Sparrow," the aide replied.

"That's right, "she nodded. "Sparrow. We want him, if at all possible."

Having had enough, I stood up, leaning over the table to meet the Senator's eyes. "Look, Holland Manners doesn't live here anymore. We're not helping you ruin a good man's life!"

"Gunn," Angel warned me off, a growl in his voice.

"No, Angel!" I cried. "I don't know what's going on here, but I can't let this one go. No way."

"Fine," he said, standing up and grabbing me by the arm to push me from the room. "I thought I told you," he yelled as he shoved me out into the lobby and closed the door behind us, "to keep your opinions to yourself."

"And I thought I don't care, Angel," I snarled, pulling my arm out of his grip. "I know you're hurting, man, but you can't seriously go along with this, can you? It's the complete opposite of what we've been trying to accomplish here."

"Gunn," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and wetting his lips like he was gearing up for a hell of an argument. "You're not seeing the big picture!"

"Well, why don't you explain it to me, then? 'Cause it looks to me like history's repeating here, Angel. What are you gonna do, fire me again?"

"If I have to," he replied, about ready to slug me instead.

"Look at yourself, man! Let's just talk about what happened with your boyfriend so you can put it behind you. Maybe then we can figure out how not to end up like them!" I pointed to the conference room, where the Senator and Ernesto were probably hearing all of this, not to mention the half of the firm that was passing through the lobby.

"Spike wasn't my boyfriend," Angel snarled in my ear, pushing me toward a more deserted hallway. "He was a mistake."

"Bullshit, Angel," I replied, thinking of all the instances I'd seen them together since I caught them in a very compromising position that one night. Every time I'd seen them, they'd seemed more and more attached to one another. Holding conversations in a look, touching whenever possible, actually laughing at each other's jokes. "Bull. Shit."

"And besides," he continued. "This has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the plan."

"Which is what, exactly? Keep pretending to be evil until it finally happens and we can stop caring about the end of the world? About anyone but ourselves?"

"I don't have to listen to this," he shook his head, pushing my shoulder so I slammed back into the wall, not gently. "I'm going back to work. You go work on something else, and leave the Senator alone!"

"There's nothing else to work on, Angel!" I cried after him, rubbing my shoulder.

"There's a mile-high stack of paperwork on your desk," he called back, "that begs to differ. Harmony!" he got the girl's attention. "Call the legal department and tell them to send up someone qualified to work this case."

"Right away, Boss!" She sounded so excited to be given a task.

"Fucking vampires," I muttered to myself, shaking my head.

"Heard that!" Angel's voice carried from the doorway of the conference room and around the corner to where he'd left me standing.

"Well, fuck you, too," I said just as softly as I crossed the lobby, heading for my desk and another glass of scotch. "Hear that, did you?" I asked, but there was no response. Once in my office, I slammed the door and went straight for the liquor. No, this definitely wasn't going to end well.

Before I'd even taken a sip of my drink, Lorne cracked open the door and slipped in, saying, "Heyyy, pumpkin."

"Don't 'pumpkin' me, Lorne. I'm really not in the mood."

"Yeah, I see that," he said, nodding to the drink in his hand. "Got another one of those for me?"

"Sure," I sighed, digging a second glass out of the cabinet in my desk and pouring him a drink. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Green."

"Hey," he scoffed, taking the drink and sitting down in one of the chairs in front of my desk, "all's forgiven. But I could hear that row from down in the entertainment division, so I thought I'd come see how you're doin', sport."

"I'm okay," I said, sinking down into my chair and taking a sip of my drink. "I'm just worried about him. And what Spike's leaving is gonna do to him."

"Yeah," he replied sadly. "I'm wondering if this isn't the bad ending I saw when I first read them together."

"How bad are we talkin'? Temper tantrums in the supermarket or end of the world?"

Lorne chuckled nervously. "Ah, ha ha. More the latter than the former, I'm afraid."

"That's what I was afraid of," I replied with a sigh. "The freakin' Apocalypse is comin' up, ready to swallow us whole, and our fearless leader is freaking out over his love life. Do you know what he's agreeing to do for a Wolfram and Hart client, right now?"

"Well, guessing from that look, I don't think I want to know," he nodded, sipping on his drink again. "Sheesh, this isn't even the good stuff. Not that I'm particularly fond of the good stuff, in any case." He shrugged.

"Whatever. I found it in Wesley's office."

"So this is what it's come to, eh, Gunn?" Lorne frowned, leaning back in his chair and looking past me out the window. "Drinking a dead man's liquor while avoiding our evil jobs and our evil employees and our less than goody-two-shoes leader?"

"Yep," I finished off my drink. "I just hope we won't have to take Angel down for his own good."

"Isn't that going a little overboard?" he asked me, leaning forward in his chair to set his glass down on my desk.

"You haven't seen him like this, Lorne. I have. And if he's headed where I think he is, staking Angel might become the last option between us and the end of the world."

"Geez, and here I thought it was going to be a normal Thursday." Lorne shook his head, and then drew a sharp breath. "You don't think its Angelus in there, do you?"

"I dunno," I sighed. "Buffy was here. But I can't imagine either her or Spike leaving us to deal with Angelus on our own."

"If they even knew," he pointed out. "Angelus is quite the actor when he wants to be. Hell, I could get him an audition with Spielberg. If he wouldn't, you know, rip out my lungs before then."

"No, I don't think it's him," I decided, though there was a niggling doubt still making my brain itch with the possibility. "This is just Angel without the mission. Aren't you so thrilled to meet him?"

"Yeah, kiddo. Ever so," Lorne sighed, taking up his glass when I refilled it and joining me in a pointless toast.

A/N: I'm actually having more fun writing Gunn than I thought I would. And writing angry Angel is always a blast!

Don't forget to review! I'd really like to know any thoughts you have about either Gunn's or Fred's POV, so I can incorporate your suggestions.