Author's notes, take two: The muses have revolted, so I'm left all by my lonesome with a half-starved plot-bunny that keeps curling up pitifully under my bed. I'm doing my best to coax her back out. Huge huge sorries for how long it's been taking for me to write, and how many WIPs I have going at the moment... I'm working on it.
The cracked and water-stained ceiling of the hospital was the third most beautiful thing Gunn had ever seen. The first most beautiful thing was Alonna, whenever she was passionate about something. Her eyes would flash and her tongue would be oh-so-sharp, and it would be almost as if he could see the fire crackling in her heart. The second was a smiling Fred, confident in her own abilities, no sign of the shy hesitant girl from Pylea. But the ceiling definitly ranked third. He never really thought he would live through the battle, but since he doubted Heaven (or Hell for that matter) smelled like a hospital, odds were that he did make it after all.
Gunn looked around the room, gaze falling on the dozing man in the chair near his bed. The door opened, and Teresa entered. "Hey, T." Gunn greeted her with a smile.
"Hey yourself." Teresa smiled back, checking his vitals and making notes on a clipboard. "How are you feeling?"
Gunn chuckled. "Like I got hit by a Mack truck. How's it look?"
"Like you got hit by a Mack truck with a very sharp knife." Teresa raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were a big-time lawyer now, staying out of fights."
Gunn shrugged. "This was one fight that couldn't be avoided."
"I've got to say, I'm surprised that you're here. Your file says you were checked into the Wolfram & Hart medical facilities two months ago with a stab wound. Doesn't sound like your avoidance tactics are working very well."
"Well, sometime I have to depend on my good looks and charming wit to get me out of dangerous situations."
She didn't look amused. "I worry about you, Charles. These last two times managed to miss any vital organs, but you may not be so lucky next time."
"It's okay, Teresa. I promise I'll be more careful."
Teresa didn't look like she believed him, but she let it go. She glanced at the dark-haired man. "Your friend Xander tried to stay awake until you woke up, but it doesn't look like he was able to make it. Poor thing, I don't blame him. I can't believe he hadn't heard about the Sunnydale collapse." She shook her head and went back to work. "Well, you'll be all right. A few stitches and some bedrest and you'll be just fine. I've got to get back to the other patients now, the ones who were able to avoid Mack trucks."
Gunn grinned. "Thank you, T."
"No problem." Teresa smiled, and left.
Xander. Gunn frowned as the name tugged on some shred of a memory from years ago, Cordelia's voice as she ranted about men in general and ex-boyfriends in particular. It was a rather unusual name, and considering Teresa had mentioned Sunnydale, it was more than possible that this was the same guy. Still, Gunn couldn't imagine Cordy dating someone so young, so either the name was just a wacky coincidence (he snorted - yeah right), or else something weird was going on. Shifting into more of a sitting position - and wincing when the movement made the pain flare up - he called to the kid. No time like the present to figure out what was going on. "Yo, Xander."
The kid jumped, forcing himself awake and alert, head jerking up to meet Gunn's gaze. "How'd you know my name?'
"Teresa came in while you were asleep. Mentioned your name and Sunnydale." With a little mental shrug, Gunn decided to cut to the chase. "You ever date Cordelia?"
Xander blinked, obviously taken by surprise. "You know Cordy? Is she okay?" he asked, hope coloring his voice.
Same guy, which meant something weird was definitely going on. "She's dead. Died not too long ago in a coma."
The boy's face fell and he lowered his head as Gunn watched him. "Damn wishes." he muttered, almost too softly for Gunn to head. "I didn't mean it."
Grief was apparent in the guy's posture, and Gunn felt a twinge of sympathy. He still hadn't come to terms with Cordy's death either, much less Wesley's. Suddenly he realized that he couldn't remember much of anything after he'd collapsed mid-fight, and he wondered if the others had made it. "Hey, have you seen Angel or Spike around?"
Xander regarded him for a moment, before answering carefully, "He said that they were at the Hyperion."
Gunn stumbled over the next question. "Did Illyria make it?" It wasn't that he cared for her, he still hated her for killing Fred, but he didn't want to imagine Fred's body lying bleeding and broken in the rainy alley.
"The chick with the blue hair?" Xander asked. Gunn nodded. "Yeah, she looked okay."
Gunn let out a sigh of relief.
Xander leaned closed. "So tell me, how'd you end up knowing Spike and Angel, and not getting your throat torn out?"
Gunn smirked. "It's a long story."
"I've got time." Xander replied.
"""
Angel closed the book he'd been reading, rubbing his eyes as he leaned back on the round ottoman in the middle of the lobby. All of the old books Angel Investigations had acquired over the years, along with several texts stolen from what used to be the L.A. Branch of Wolfram and Hart lay piled in stacks around the lobby. Wesley had arranged to move the books here fore safe keeping right before the final battle, despite the collective belief than none of them were going to survive an all-out confrontation with the Senior Partners. In hindsight, he was glad Wesley had thought ahead 'just in case'. He was trying to find some information regarding time travel, but he honestly had no idea what he was looking for, and the 'read' pile of books was much, much smaller than the piles of 'not read' books. On the plus side, he did find out that Rijvo demons were deathly allergic to aspartame, but that little nugget of information was pretty much worthless considering the Rijvo were considered extinct.
He sighed, the sound echoing in the old hotel. Illyria had departed, mentioning something about preforming rites over Wesley's body. Spike had also left, voicing a desire for a drink. Angel had decided to remain, but was now reconsidering. The hotel was full of memories and scents, years of moments with Cordelia, Wesley, Fred, and Gunn saturated every room and piece of furniture. Cordelia's computer still sat behind the counter, and he imagined that the files on the hard drive were still organized in Cordy-logic that he had never come close to grasping. Guilt and pain flared, and he forced himself not to remember any more. Part of him wanted to leave, to drown his sorrows like Spike or maybe pick a fight with some random demon on the street, but he'd told Xander where to find them, and he didn't want Gunn coming back to an empty hotel.
Wiping a few stray tears from his eyes, he picked up another book and started to read.
"""
TBC...