Title: Hungry Eyes
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for.

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Chapter Ten
--

Charles Gunn's throat was dry, extremely dry, and no amount of swallowing or licking his lips seemed to moisten the parched mouth.

Kneeling down on the asphalt, he looked in panic over the darkness of the road, and reached back again, bringing his hand in contact with Wesley's forehead.

This time, the slap was sound. Wesley's head jerked sideways, and his eyes opened groggily.

Gunn's heart jolted within him as Wesley moaned. "Wes, man! Wake up, dude."

Wesley stared up at him blankly, reaching up to position his glasses more firmly against his face. "Gunn?"

Gunn smiled grimly, pressing a hand against his shoulder. "You okay?"

"I … there's an – Oww…"

Taking Gunn's offered hand, Wesley pulled himself up, wobbling slightly, reaching up to catch the warm slickness that was trickling over his head.

"Oh… my…"

"Here," Gunn reached into his pocket, pulling out a wrinkled tissue and pressing it against the wound. "Wesley man, I'm – where's Fred?"

Fred.

"Good Lord." Immediately Wesley's eyes jerked opened and he pushed away, trying to run and found himself slamming into the ground again.

"WESLEY!" Charles' voice sounded panicked as he came forward, pulling Wesley up against his chest, palm cradling his face. "Come on, man. Shit. You don't look so good."

"Gunn, I'm sorry. I tried to save her…" his answer was feeble, and Gunn looked at him blankly.

Charles' tone was scratchy and hesitant, and incredibly full of fear, "Wesley. Where's Fred!"

"Wesley!" Charles looked up to find Cordelia, Angel and another dark haired woman in a dark business suit jogging toward them.

"Cordy."

"What happened to Wesley?" she asked hurriedly, kneeling down to take Wesley's head into her lap, sucking in her breath when she touched the blood.

"Fred," Wesley breathed. "They took Fred."

"Gunn?" Angel asked, kneeling down next to Wesley.

Gunn still had the particular problem of a dry throat, and he swallowed hard, trying to retain enough moisture to speak above the rapidly beating panic of his own heart.

"I don't know, man. I came by, was gonna try to apologize to Fred," he waved the flowers that were still clenched in his hand, "And I found Wesley… bleeding and stuff."

"Plastic flowers," Wesley muttered, burying his face into Cordelia's lap. "She likes plastic flowers."

"Oh, God…" Cordelia carefully turned his head with her fingers. "It's a pretty hard hit."

"Dammit." Angel slammed the glass he was holding into the ground, shattering the tumbler into pieces.

Gunn felt his heart sink. "What happened to Fred?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Cordelia said, suddenly turning to the woman who was now searching the parking lot, hands on her hips. "Rebecca?"

The young woman turned, shaking her head. "I don't see his car."

"He has Fred," Cordelia breathed, anxiety clouding the hazel of her eyes. "I know it."

Angel, still kneeling over the broken shards of the glass. "We shouldn't have left her alone."

"Angel we had no idea this would happen," Cordelia said, her voice small.

"We should have known. Some damned detectives we are."

"I know where he's going," Rebecca said, motioning with her hands. "The bastard's house is so big you could fit a plane in it, and there's one place he's never let me go."

Cordelia and Angel exchanged glances, and the Seer's shoulders slumped, struggling under Wesley's weight as she began to rise. "Guys, help me out here."

Gunn immediately came forward, taking on the burden of Wesley. "Come on, English, lean against me. We're gonna take care of ya soon."

"Gunn." The Ex-Watcher's hands curled around the lapel of Gunn's jacket, making the younger man freeze. Wesley's dark eyes were clouded in pain, but they were sincere. "I'm terribly sorry. I tried to protect her."

The lump in Gunn's throat seemed to grow monumentously, and he swallowed it down with effort, heart suddenly giving within him. "'Ain't your fault man."

"Gunn-"

"No, listen," Gunn gripped the sides of his arms almost painfully, but his voice enunciated every word. "It wasn't your fault. I trust you with her, and if you did everything you can, I believe you."

Wesley was quiet, the dark eyes bore into his, and slowly he nodded, closing his eyes and slipping again.

--
The beauty behind the simplicity of pi was the utter genius of the less than complicated equation.

Fred blinked at the thought, her mind drowsy as she slowly became alert, trying to understand what it was she had just said.

Eyes drifting open, she stifled a yawn, reaching up to rub at her eyes, only to find she could not, because her hands were bound behind her.

Freezing, the panic came almost automatically, and Winnifred swallowed, jolting her head in various directions in an attempt to get her bearings.

The car ride was smooth, but that was neither comforting nor made the situation any easier, because the two men from the club were watching her with less than gentle eyes.

With a parched mouth, she tried to speak, but found it came out as nothing more than an accented croak. "Umm… hi," she began nervously.

The headache seemed to come out of nowhere, and Fred winced, clutching her forehead, a low moan of pain escaping her.

The voices drifting around her were disinterested, almost annoyed. "Must have given her too much."

"Doesn't matter. We don't need her healthy. Just alive. For now."

For some reason he thought it was witty, because there was a low, deep throated laugh that accompanied that statement.

The fear jolted down Fred's spine in one large shiver, the overwhelming urge to lost control and completely freak out sliding through her simultaneously.

She began to tremble, a sob emerging from her throat.

Attempting to fight the pain long enough to get her bearings, her eyes drifted open, her mind whirling with unanswered questions, instinctively wishing to be in the fairy tale land where Gunn and Angel and Wesley came for her-

Where were they?

The car stopped, jolting her forward, and the door was jerked open, rough hands reaching in and wrapping around her smaller limbs, making her grit her teeth in pain as she tripped on the gravel, stumbling forward, only to be caught gruffly by the tall dark bouncer.

"You got a wimp, Donald."

Donald was already walking to the door, opening it and stepping forward.

Fred felt tears stinging her face, but still she said nothing, eyes darting around the mansion that loomed dark and deadly before her before she was shoved in.

--

"This is my fault."

Angel glanced over, saw Cordelia hunched in the corner of the convertible eyes stricken with grief.

"It's not-"

"What are you talking about? *I* left her alone. *I* said she could come. *I* handed her the drink-"

"That drink was supposed to be for you?" Rebecca interrupted, leaning forward to poke her head between the two seats.

Angel stared at her curiously, and forcing himself to turn his attention back to the road, listened attentively.

Cordelia nodded. "I gave it to her when I asked to talk to you."

Rebecca Hull clucked at her teeth, eyes lost in thought, reaching for the file and perusing through it. "All the woman that died were newbies. That's how I didn't know about them. I just assumed they had left town."

"Faster, Angel," Cordelia breathed.

Angel felt the jolt of anger coupled with fear slide into him and he shoved his foot down hard, making the convertible jump forward, accelerate down the highway.

--

"You know you really don't hafta push."

That particular statement came after she had been shoved into yet ANOTHER room, the retort coming automatically from her mouth as her irritation at being herded like cattle – she'd had enough of that in Pylea thank you very much- making her stomp her feet as she regained her balance, whirling on the men who were putting on very dark robes.

"I can walk on my own…" the firmness in her tone faded slightly at the sight of the knife that gleamed in the candles, and Fred clenched her fists, ever mindful of the headache that refused to go away, the wobbly knees, the nausea that all pointed toward some kind of drugging.

The room was dark, dank… uninviting, reminding Fred of the dreaded rooms in the Pylean dungeon she had worked so hard to stay out of when she got lost.

She was lost again.

Oh, God, she was lost again.

Her breath constricted and the tears welled up, and barely able to catch herself, she brought her palm up, biting down on the meaty portion in an effort to stop it.

Cordelia had told her, if she was ever in this situation, to stave.

Cordelia knew how to stave.

God, she should have really paid more attention to Cordelia's lectures about staving.

The statue at the altar was surprisingly small, a young, hunched over demon with wings that looked like a demented gargoyle.

Fred squinted, jerking her eyes back to the circle of men who waited expectantly.

"Ummm…. So… hello…" she managed nervously, giving them a little wave.

Donald came forward, sliding on a black robe, glancing at her impatiently. "Well?"

For some reason she got the distinct impression that he was expecting her to do something.

"Well what?" she asked nervously, trying to hear above her rapidly beating heart.

"Get on with the begging and pleading and crying," he said, mimicking some poor girl's cries as he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "So we can get on with it."

"Oh." Fred paused, blinking, and rubbed at her forearms insecurely. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

He stared at her blankly.

"For your life. We're going to rape and kill you."

"Oh. Well… that doesn't… sound pleasant…" she muttered, stepping backwards nervously, closer to the ugly statue.

Donald's mouth dropped slightly at the uncharacteristic reaction, and he gave a puzzled look to his compatriots, before turning back to Fred. "This is the part where they usually scream and beg for their lives."

"Oh. OH. Well I hate to be a disappointment, but this ain't exactly new," she remarked, shrugging haphazardly, eyes shifting again around the room.

Cordelia said that in order to stave you had to keep them occupied.

Fred's own logic concurred, and she found herself pausing, reflecting on the wonder where Cordelia's common sense and her own logic seemed … to mesh.

Despite the incredibly dire circumstances and her own impending death, she felt a smirk climb onto her face.

"Umm… I think she's smiling," Brian offered, leaning against the back wall.

Fred immediately straightened her face. "Sorry," she remarked. Continuing to back away, she murmured, "Umm… Ah really don't think you want to do this. Ah mean… my boyfriend and my friends won't take too kindly to you rapin' me and-"

"Boyfriend?" Donald spit the word out, almost disgusted. "What kinda of man wants a bitch like you?"

She blinked, startled by the insult. "Huh? Hey!"

The chanting began, words that she recognized, absently translating while Donald began to speak, coming forward.

To you we come, great Cosmos-

"Women these days. They have… absolutely no morals," he began, shaking his head. "No respect for their own chastity. Whores… willing to pay for a man to invade them-"

"I haven't paid anyone to…" Fred trailed off, deciding to let the insult slide, as she continued her retreat backwards, eyes frantically searching the room for any escape.

Of course, there was none.

He whom understands our laws, our natures, we come to you now with our most precious sacrifice.

"He's going to set it right."

The loins from which we have been borne-

Uh-oh. Fred swallowed, looking back and finding the silly looking statue's eyes beginning to glow.

Okay… good time to panic.

--

The convertible swerved, the gravel splattering, the truck slamming into a stop right behind them.

Immediately four doors swung open and the vampire, the muscle, the brains and the heart all stepped out, slamming doors simultaneously and walking to the gate.

"HEY!"

Cordelia turned back, suddenly realizing she had locked the pimp in the car.

"Sorry." Rebecca only rolled her eyes, opening the door and coming up to meet them.

Angel pursed his lips, eyes shifting over the metal gate that kept them from going any further.

Gunn stepped forward, movements nervous and shifty as he tugged on the gates, eyes dangerously wild.

"FUCK!" he growled, kicking at the gates.

"Gunn," Cordelia stepped forward, her voice soft, but the man only shook her off, staring at the barrier with moistened eyes.

"We can't be too late," he muttered hoarsely.

"We won't be," Wesley said, his voice firm, despite the pained expression on his face. "We'll pick the lock if we have to."

The vampire had said nothing during all of this, but he startled the Seer standing next to him when he launched up the twenty foot tall gated fence, and vaulted to the other side, running up into the driveway.

"Uhh… that's new…" she muttered.

"Bloody hate when he does that," Wesley muttered.

"What about the rest of us?" Gunn asked angrily.

Creaking rust filled their ears as the gate suddenly began to move, opening before them.

Stunned, Cordelia suddenly remembered Rebecca, who was holding up her key card, shaking her head in pity. "You guys always do things the hard way?"

Gunn didn't answer, instead he and Wesley were the first to run after Angel.

Cordelia paused only to say a frenzied prayer for Fred, refusing to let the guilt seep through her for fear it would paralyze her.

She had told Fred she would have been safe with her. Had told her that long ago.

What a freakin' joke that was.

--

The chanting was louder now, almost in sync with the furious pace of Fred's heartbeat, which thumped, thumped, louder and louder until it was drumming into her ear drums.

"Don't you think we're rushing things a bit?" she stammered, keeping her backwards pacing. "I mean we hardly even know each other-"

"I don't need to know anything about you," Donald said methodically, coming forward, hands crossed behind his back. "Everything is written in your face. Just like all the others."

"My…" Fred's hands rose to her face self consciously, before she felt the jolt of anger that felt actually good instead of the fear, and seized that instead. "I'm not… I'm FRED. Gunn says that's all I need to BE!" Her hands waved wildly, and when Donald's face suddenly contorted in fear, Fred realized just how close to the statue she was.

Her hand knocked the thing over, and the room was filled with male voices gone shrill when the thing teetered, and almost in slow motion, crashed to the floor… splintering into the pieces.

The room was dead silent, and Fred, suddenly sheepish, nudged at the pieces with her heel clad feet, managing an embarrassed smile.

"Oops?"

--

Angel stumbled in through the open door, pausing long enough to morph into the demonic face, sniff the air, and suddenly growl, launching into the direction that held Fred's scent.

Charles Gunn was never more glad that Angel was a vampire than at that moment, as he pumped his legs, barely managing to keep the vamp in sight as Angel continued to run.

Every fiber of his being was suddenly consumed with overwhelming emotion, and Gunn felt the strong resonating in his head, "Not Fred, not Fred… not Fred too…"

It echoed, splintered into his head and it made his vision blur, which he tried to correct by wiping rough sleeves on his face in an attempt to get the tears off, and it made him allow one soft wrench from his body.

He was scared shitless.

And damn… if Angel could find Fred, if they could save Fred and Angel helped him, Gunn would take it all back and make Angel a damned blood brother.

The homeboy could have Gunn's Type B for dinner.

Just as long as Fred was safe.

--

Cordelia had long since abandoned the heels, as she and Rebecca Hull brought up the rear, attempting to keep up, following the vampire and the rest of the Fang Gang down the stairs as quickly as they could.

"Wait." Rebecca paused, and suddenly yanked Cordelia's arm, pulling her to the side and slamming her hand on a button. "Elevator," she explained.

Cordelia considered telling Rebecca to take her elevator and shove it, but her feet were already blistered from the gravel, and not wanting to think about the pedicure bills, she let the doors open, slipping into it with Rebecca, who slammed her hand down again on the 'down' button.

"So…" Rebecca asked in the silence that followed. "Do this a lot?"

"No. Usually I'm the one being sacrificed," Cordelia muttered, tapping her feet as she waited impatiently, seconds ticking away… and time was so important right now- it was so damn important.

But one lingering thought nagged her.

"Why on EARTH do you have a POWER PUFF tattoo?!"

Rebecca gave her an arched eyebrow, but she had no time to explain, as the elevator drifted to a stop and the doors swung open.

--

"YOU BROKE IT!" Donald ran past her, swinging a heavy arm in her direction that she managed to avoid… mostly, making her stumble back as he knelt beside the fallen idol, gathering the pieces lovingly, voice hiccupping.

"I said I was sorry."

"Kill her-"

"Fred you broke the statue?"

The familiar voice caused such a jolt in Fred's heart that she almost couldn't breath for relief, as her head whipped to the side to catch Cordelia walking into the room, that scary Pimpy Girl behind her.

"Cordelia!" she cried in relief.

"Donald!" Rebecca stalked into the room, eyes glinting with rage. "May I have a word?"

A loud crash made the candles flicker, Fred jumped and immediately Cordelia was thrown back by a robed man, but it was okay.

Because Angel and Wesley and Gunn ran into the room.

"The staving works…" Fred found herself wondering out loud.

Angel wore the demonic face with a smile, as he singled out the large black man, back handing another who dared to come close and pointing a finger.

"BRIAN! JUST who I wanted to see!"

"Cordelia!"

The young Seer ducked under a punch and delivered one of her own, making the man swivel and land into Wesley's waiting fists.

Fred stood, hands at her sides as she awkwardly stared at Charles.

"Charles!" she found herself suddenly breaking forward.

Gunn's eyes were so incredibly dark, so intense as he came forward, suddenly on his knees in front of her. "Fred baby, I'm sorry."

Fred blinked, eyes shifting over her shoulder.

"Umm… Gunn…"

"I know you've got every reason to be mad at me, but I care about you, girl, and-"

"Charles…"

"I want to make it up to you, baby, I do-"

"GUNN!" Fred pressed her fingers into his shoulders, making him pause. "Behind you!"

Whipping his head around, she caught the tail end of his "Whoa" before he leaped up and pushed her out of the way, catching the ax handle that came down with his bare hands and kicking the assailant hard in his stomach, bringing the man to his knees.

Fred looked around wildly, finally grabbed the largest piece of the broken idol and slammed it down on the man's head.

He fell without further protest.

She found herself staring at Charles in awkward silence.

"Are you…" Her knees suddenly gave way, and in a flash he was there, big comfy and oh so strong Gunn, who gathered her up into his arms and held her close, palms gentle as he caressed her hair.

She closed her eyes, shuddering against him and holding him close, breathing in a whiff of the masculine smell she had come to adore.

"You okay?"

"Umm… Post trauma," she whispered. "Shock maybe… I'll be fine… if my heart ever insists on beatin' regularly."

The noise around them seemed to filter out as he stared at her, fingers caressing the tip of her jaw, a smirk quirking on his lips. "Yeah I can feel it."

She paused, suddenly aware, so very aware of his large masculine frame, of the way her fingers clutched at the shirt of his… and the fact she was supposed to be mad at him.

"Look… Gunn…"

"Wait… before you say anything…" Gunn took a breath, looking nervous and tired, and surprised, Fred waited, unsure of what to expect. "I… look Fred… I'm no good for you. I know that okay? I'm afraid that … one day you'll figure out that you're better off with anybody else… but… I need you. I came in here trying to rescue you and shit but… that ain't what's happening Fred. Truth is… I need you to rescue me."

Charles wasn't an eloquent speaker, but Fred marveled at his words, knowing he couldn't have said anything more perfect had he been Voltaire himself.

The smile that slid onto her face was genuine, the lump in her throat quite uncomfortable, but there was no ache, or pain…

There was no fear.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you."

The words came out edged in soft, meek, but gentle caring, and he blinked, at first not understanding, but when her smile grew wider, he suddenly felt the need to smile back, and Fred guessed they looked pretty silly there smiling like that at each other.

His lips were gentle, and she sighed into his caress, lips feather soft against his, only to be jolted out of the make up by the growl that could have only come from Angel.

Heads inching apart, Fred blinked when she realized she had missed the entire action sequence.

Angel now stood over the fallen tall bouncer, a proud expression on his face.

His leg reached back, as if to kick him once more, but Cordelia stopped him, pulling him back.

"HEY! Dork. He's down."

"Cordelia, stay out of this."

"Right cause THAT works every time you say it. Listen Angel-"

"Why do you always have to ignore everything I say? This guy needs a lesson-"

"You broke out all his teeth! Don't you think that's enough? Let the police take the rest!"

"Cordelia he was about to sacrifice Fred!"

Cordelia paused, the hazel eyes conflicted as her gaze flickered to Fred. Leaning her head against Gunn's chest, Fred only offered her a soft smile.

With a grunt, Cordelia whirled and kicked Brian herself.

"There."

"Fred." Gunn squeezed her shoulders, and motioned.

Turning, all five members of Angel Investigations watched in open admiration as Rebecca sat on Donald, slamming fist after fist into his face.

"Damn. Pimp Girl belongs on the ring."

"Take THAT YOU BIG MOUTHED CHEATING BASTARD-"

Wesley Wyndham Price's head was aching, his heart was softly beating, but also held the curious ache as he leaned against the wall, looking across the room to the litter of fallen men and the standing compatriots.

He wasn't quite sure what he was thinking, as he held the blood soaked handkerchief on his head, but he was aware of one simple thing that gave the old soul some resemblance of hope.

On his face, with no prodding at all, was a smile.
--