Charles Gunn

[ for hellmouth_of_la ]

Sitting on the sofa in his apartment with a hot cup of coffee in hand, Gunn was feeling more out of place than ever.

He had missed the opening of the hellmouth. He had been trying so hard to help, to make some kind of contribution, that he hadn't been there was his teammates -- his friends -- needed him. He and Harmony had still been down in Files and Records when it happened. By the time they finally surfaced, it was too late. The shock of the hellmouth opening early had passed, they had completely missed the senior staff meeting, and the hellmouth was already well on its way to being temporarily sealed.

Even though he had missed most of the excitement, he was still sufficiently stressed, not to mention just slightly terrified. Needless to say, he was grateful for the day off the entire senior staff had been granted. Something told him they were all going to need it.

Staring down into his coffee and propping his feet up on the unnecessarily expensive coffee table in front of him, Gunn frowned as he realized that his role in the group hadn't change. His clothes had changed. His surroundings had changed. Even a few of his personal qualities, like speech, had changed a little. His role hadn't. He was still the muscle. Still the reinforcements. Still the guy they called on when things got too rough and they needed a little brute strength in the mix. Noone still seemed to notice his efforts to be more than the brawn, and when he made mistakes or flubbed somehow, like he'd done the night before, they ignored it.

Because they knew they would need him and his brawn somewhere down the line.

Gunn sighed and rubbed the back of his neck before taking a long sip of his coffee, then looked up and began to stare out the nearby window with a thoughtful look on his face.

So many things in their lives had changed during the past several months... but he hadn't. He stayed the same. Always the same.

Grimacing, he looked down again. It was time to start making some changes for the better.

This whole sitting around and feeling useless gig was getting pretty damn old.

[ for ftvs ]

Gunn didn't stick around long after the Faith vs. Lara throwdown. He'd gone back to the Blue Moon with Faith, said goodbye, and retreated to the nearest motel, throwing down a moderate amount of money for a small, cramped room that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. It didn't bother him; he'd slept in worse conditions. He was just glad to have a real bed to look forward to, especially after all that driving he'd done, crossing more than half the country to get to Cleveland from LA. He thought it would have been too rude to ask Faith if he could stay with her crew. It would have been awkward. Besides, he wasn't about to try and break through whatever Faith's circle of friends had going for them. Team Angel had been like that, once upon a time. Impermeable. No matter how hard any one outsider tried, they could never really become one of the team. Groo had never really been one of them. Connor never became one of them, either. Faith, even though her stay in Los Angeles had been brief, had also been unable to work her way into the circle.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been at the motel now, laying back on his bed with his head resting in his hands as he looked up at the ceiling and thought about all he'd left behind in Los Angeles. The underlying cliqueyness aside, he missed the days when he and Angel and all the others had been so tight in their friendships. They all trusted each other with their lives back then, working together like a team should. Then things went downhill. He wasn't sure when it had started... but it became most apparent when they took over Wolfram & Hart.

They weren't Angel Investigations anymore. That, admittedly, was part of why he left. He wasn't doing any good there, sitting in that office building and pretending he had an authentic law degree, as if that gave him some sort of worth. He had decided to go where he would be useful. He knew Faith could use him and his muscle, something he had recently become very proud of. Before, he saw being the muscle as an insult. Not anymore. Maybe working at Wolfram & Hart had given him some clarity.

Suddenly the motel room just wasn't doing it for him anymore. Already fully dressed, it was only a matter of seconds before Gunn was on his feet and wearing his sneakers, grabbing his jacket off the hook on the wall as he made his way out the door. It had been nice to relax for awhile, to process some of the thoughts that had been bouncing around in his head, but when the urge to work off some steam came around, he knew better than to ignore it.

He wasn't far from the Blue Moon, or the cemetery where he and Faith went to meet Lara. He reached the cemetery within a few minutes, and slowed his pace as he walked through the gates, now carrying a sharpened stake in his hand. Carrying his axe would have drawn too much attention, unfortunately -- and he was walking. That meant there would have been too many opportunities for people to ask questions. That was fine. He was just as comfortable with a simple stake as he was with his axe.

He hadn't been in the cemetery five minutes when he spotted someone sitting on the ground: a young man with spiked hair, sitting and looking just slightly... off.

"Hey. You know it's dangerous to be out here at night, right?"

[ for hellmouth_of_la ]

"You're doing everything that you can, that's what counts, right?"

"Suppose so," Gunn said affably, shrugging a bit as he glanced back towards his now-blank computer screen. He and Harmony didn't exactly have the greatest history together, but he had to admit, her constant, almost obnoxious effervescence had a way of taking the edge off. He was feeling better, more confident, more relaxed, more sure of himself. He could help to solve this hellmouth problem, and he knew it. It was just going to take a little perseverance... and they had to look in the right places.

The client database was not the way to go, he quickly realized. They had a much broader range of information available to them... it was just a matter of getting their so-called "medium" to talk. Harmony had said that he was doing everything he could, but he wasn't so sure. He had a feeling, deep down, that all of the answers were right at their fingertips... it was just a simple matter of asking one person a very, very simple question.

He canted his head, looking thoughtful. "Hey, Harmony... you want to help me out for a little while? I've got a job for you," he told her, moving to get up from his seat. "We're going on a little field trip. Bring your highlighter, yeah? You're gonna need it."

They were going down to the legendary Files and Records department.

[ for iftomorrow ]

Gunn held true to his word after parting ways with Angel. With all of the new houseguests, there was a lot of work to be done. Someone else would have to be put on laundry duty... there weren't many household chores Gunn wouldn't do, but he absolutely refused to handle other people's dirty sheets or scrub toilets. Everything else was easy. His first stop was the kitchen, hoping to find it empty so that he might take a quick inventory of their food supply. Food, he thought, was their number one priority. Once he knew what they had and what they needed, he'd round up a few others to accompany him on a food run.

Luckily, the kitchen had been abandoned by the time he got there. Having grabbed a small notepad and a pen from the front desk on his way in, he quickly began to appraise their food supply, stooping down and starting with a low cupboard that served as a dry pantry for cereal and a wide variety of canned foods. Unfortunately, he found that the cabinent was almost empty upon inspection. "Cereal... check," he said with a sigh, scribbling on his pad.

He reached back and began to rummage through what little was left in the cupboard, freezing when his fingers touched on a box of empty taco shells. Those had been bought especially for Fred, he remembered. He grimaced, getting back to his feet and moving on to the next cabinent.

He felt pathetic, unable to take a simple inventory without thinking about Fred. It was a fresh wound, and it still stung. He'd never thought Fred would be the first of them to go... he'd always thought she would be around long after the rest of them. She was too smart to get herself killed, too cautious... at least, that's what he'd believed. But now she was gone, leaving a gaping hole in her stead. That demonic shell did nothing to fill it. She only made the pain worse.

Sighing again, he leaned back against the counter and rubbed at the back of his neck, fixing his gaze on his feet. Fred had been so much more than their resident brain... she had been a source of strength, courage. Gunn wanted to go on fighting, he knew he had to, but without Fred to cheer him on... it was going to be hard.

[ for sigil_diaboli ]

Gunn knew Angel might not appreciate the fact that he'd taken the liberty of calling in reinforcements. Angel liked to be the big man, liked to call the shots. After all, he was the resident Champion. He'd kinda earned his position as head honcho. But Gunn also knew that Angel was stubborn, and that he would spend his time worrying about what was coming and trying to come up with some kind of plan that only involved who and what was inside the walls of the Hyperion itself. He wouldn't think of looking to outside help, not right away. That's Gunn had called Faith, and why he was now placing a call to another old friend, one he hoped would be happy to hear from him.

Sighing, he checked his watch as he listened to the phone ring, waiting to hear someone else's voice on the other end of the line. "Come on, Gwen... pick up."

[ for hellmouth_of_la ]

"Let's get to work."

Gunn had taken those words to heart. He'd left Angel's office as soon as they'd all finished talking, quickly cutting through the lobby and taking the stairs up to his own little space. Sitting down behind his desk, he immediately began to pull up files for clients he thought seemed to be hellmouth-y types. It wasn't long before he had a somewhat impressive stack on his desk.

It was time to get investigating. Taking the first folder off the top, he flipped it open to the top page and pulled his keyboard closer to him. This was going to take some creative research. Logging into the client database, he brought up the search page and began to type, fingers rapidly flying across the keys.

He might not have a big brain like Fred or Wes or the kind of power Angel had, that executive power that allowed him to get things done, but he did have something noone else on the senior staff had. Connections.

[ for city_of_angel ]

Gunn waited until Fred had dropped off before he started back downstairs. He found the lobby empty, which wasn't really a surprise. He'd seen Wesley and Lorne preparing to leave as he'd brought Fred through to go up to her room. It felt strange, being the one to stay home and wait for the others to send back news. Usually he was in Lorne's place, going out to fight the good fight and bring back whatever helpless soul they'd gone out to save. Not this time. Lorne had gone out to help Wesley, and Gunn almost wished he could be there to see it. He figured that would be an interesting scene, specifically because... well, Lorne? Not really much of a fighter.

He sighed as he sat down behind the front desk. It felt good, though, to be able to relax a little, be able to keep everyone safe on the homefront. He still felt like he was doing good, just... a different sort of good. Made him feel strong, in a way. It took some amount of courage to stay behind and just wait for evil to come and knock on the door. He almost felt proud of himself, that someone would trust him with guard duty, with playing the part of protector.

Mostly, though?

He just felt bored.

Withholding another sigh, he let his chin come to rest in his hand, propping his elbow up on the desk and fixing his eyes on the clock above the door. Tick. Tick. Come on, guys... get us Cordy back.

[ for ftvs ]

Of course he hadn't had any real plan when he first set out. Planning, after all, might have put a real damper on the trip. Half the fun was getting there, or so people said. Gunn really hadn't cared too much about the trip itself from the start. All he cared about was the destination. More specifically, getting as far away from Los Angeles (and Wolfram & Hart) as possible.

Faith was staying in Cleveland. That's what Angel had said, anyway. It had taken some creative wheedling, but he'd finally gotten the vampire to fork over an address. He could only hope it was real. He didn't think Angel would screw him over, especially when his intentions were nothing but... well, sort of honorable, but the man worked for Wolfram & Hart now. It was hard to know who to trust these days. Angel, Wesley, Lorne, even Fred... it seemed like everyone had changed. They all liked it there in that stuffy old building.

As much as he hated to admit it... he'd enjoyed it, too. At least while he'd been in possession of those supersmarts. Maybe that was the real reason he'd left. The thought made him sick to his stomach, but he only took that as more evidence towards the theory being real fact. He liked to tell himself that he left for noble reasons, left because Angel and the others had lost the mission, because they didn't care about helping the helpless anymore...

... but maybe it really was just because he missed being special; because staying in that building, in that very city only reminded him of what he once had. A purpose. That's what it all came down to, wasn't it? He remembered feeling as though for the first time in years, he had a real purpose in life. Ever since the death of his sister, purpose itself had left him. He no longer wanted to live on the streets and smoke vampires out of their nests, no longer wanted to recklessly put himself in danger just because he was angry. No.

That's why he had gone to Angel Investigations. He thought he would be able to do some real good there. It took him years to realize that he had been reduced to acting as the muscle. It was such a drastic change... even now, he didn't see how he went so long without noticing it. He had gone from fearless leader to mere lackey. That's what it felt like. When Wolfram & Hart gave him the opportunity to become more... the offer had been too tempting to decline. For that brief period of time, he felt like he was worth something again. He enjoyed taking the floor in court, even enjoyed trivial things like being able to outsmart Wes every now and then. Giving it up had been a difficult decision. He still didn't know why he chose not to sign those forms. Gut instinct? Or maybe reverting back to his old self allowed him to catch a glimpse of what Angel Investigations had finally sunk to.

Whatever the case was, it didn't matter anymore. That was all in the past. Gunn didn't care if he ever saw Los Angeles again. It was time to move on. Helping Faith, he thought, might be a good way to do that. No doubt she could use an extra pair of hands around the Hellmouth, and he knew he could still handle an axe better than anyone.

He let out a long breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding as he slowly pulled up in front of a small shop, a sign bearing the name "The Blue Moon" in bold letters out front. Letting the engine idle for a moment, he finally took the key from the ignition after putting the truck in park, fishing for the scrap of paper he'd written the address on. He located it just seconds later, holding it up to compare it with the address on the front of the building.

They matched.

"This must be the place," he murmured, letting the address fall to land in the mess of fast food wrappers, maps, and other trash that filled the seat on the passenger's side. Pocketing his keys, he opened the door and let his feet hit the pavement with a soft thud, slamming the door behind him as he started towards the sidewalk. Without hesitation, he let himself into the shop, only to find it empty as he descended the steps that lead down from the door.

"Hello? Faith?" he called out, going to stand by the counter where the register was mounted. He leaned against it, supporting himself with his elbow as he reached over to ring the bell beside the cash register. "Hey, can I get some service here?"

He paused and looked towards the front door again, where the shop hours were posted. The damn place closed at seven? He glanced at his watch. 7:20 PM.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, reaching back to idly rub the side of his neck. If they were supposed to be closed, why were the lights still on? Not to mention the door had been unlocked. He frowned and rang the bell again.

"Uh, holla back? Anyone?"

[ for city_of_angel ]

"Hey. Slow down, darling. We aren't going to get there in time. Save your gas."

Aggie may have been the best psychic in their area code, but she was seriously beginning to grate on Gunn's nerves. He went rigid, grunting softly as he continued to put a lead foot to the gas pedal. She seriously expected him to slow down when his friend was in trouble? Prediction or no, he wasn't slowing down for anything.

"Cordy's in trouble," he said gruffly, slowing down some only to take a sharp right turn. "I'm not slowin' down till we get there and it's time to come to a complete stop." He paused for a moment. "Or a red light," he amended.

Lorne sighed. It was plain as day that Aggie didn't plan on talking to him anytime soon. If anything happened to Cordelia, he knew it would be his fault. He should have stayed to make sure she was safe before taking off on his little rescue mission. Lord only knows he couldn't trust Angel to. Cordy had Angel wrapped around her baby finger. If she wanted to be left alone while Angel went off to save the day, even if it was just so she could feel independant, she would make it happen. She would never allow Angel to stay with her if there were people who needed saving.

It was his fault. Something was happening to Cordy. Aggie had said as much.

We are so damn screwed, he thought grimly.

[ for sigil_diaboli ]

"I know how to make an impression, huh?"

"Yeah, well I got news for all y'all," said Gunn, managing to tear his gaze away from the petite blonde beside Angel. So, that was the almighty Buffy... nice to put a name with a face. He had to admit, she was cute. He could definitely see why Angel still had the hots for her, feeling it was safe to assume that there was plenty of heat between the two of them as they had been playing tonsil hockey when he'd walked in. Great, fantastic, another dramatic romance. He was almost ashamed to admit that at the moment, he was glad that Cordy was all comafied. Had she been subject to what he'd just seen, he was pretty sure she would have been Not Happy.

He sighed, running a hand over his smooth head and letting it come to rest at the back of his neck. "First impressions really ain't all that important right now," he continued, taking the steps down into the lobby proper. "We got trouble. Big trouble. I'm talkin' crazy, demonic, revenge-thirsty, blue-haired trouble that can dissappear into thin air. And the bitch trashed my axe. I don't have the slightest idea as to what the hell's goin' on here, but I can tell you right now, it's not good. We're all gonna get our asses kicked. Angel, she's headin' this way. She wants your head on a damn silver platter."