Pairing: Nobody really. But the chararcters are Spike and Gunn. Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: Through Reunion on Angel and Into The Woods on Buffy Summary: Gunn has a chat with Spike Date Written: 12/28/00 Author's Notes: This is in response to Kat's challenge on You Got The Stones? for a Gunn/Spike confrontation with the following: 1) Neither character dies and Gunn is not vamped, 2) Gunn must either be aware or become aware during the conversation that Spike is a vampire, 3) A quote from a Shakespeare tragedy, 4) A joke stolen from Monty Python's Flying Circus, 5) A Billy Idol comment. Dedication: To Kat. No poofters! "Right now we're all that stands between you and true darkness." Wesleys' words hung thick in the air. "You're right," the vampire replied at last. "You're all fired." Angel strode out of the room without a backwards glance leaving three stunned ex-employees in his wake. * * * * * Later that night, Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn sat together in Cordelia's apartment as Phantom Dennis poured liquid comfort for the newly unemployed crimefighters. "This is so not good. My acting career's going nowhere and now this. Merry Christmas, Cordy." "I can't believe Angel did that. He's not himself, clearly." "You think, Wes? He only locked all our good friends at Wolfram & Hart in a fallout shelter with Darla and Drusilla and then came home and fired us. Yeah, that's his normal style, alright. Face it; he's unhinged. He needs therapy. He needs Freud and Jung and B.F. Skinner and Dr. Joyce Brothers all at once. Too bad they don't make housecalls. And that most of them are dead." "You left out Dr. Laura." The Englishman's tone was bitingly sarcastic. "Angel doesn't need another bitch in his unlife. That's what he's got me for." The girl peered into her cup. "Hey Dennis, less wafting, more Constant Comment." The teapot drifted over to her and filled the cup. Gunn unfolded himself from the sofa. "Look, when you two invited me out for a drink to drown our troubles, I was not envisioning this. You two can have the Mad Tea Party of The Damned; I got better things to do." "Like what precisely?" Wesley blinked owlishly. "Like figuring out what we do next. We need to know what happens if Angel goes back to his badass ways of yore." "What happens is death, destruction, despair and a whole lot of yuckiness. Been there, done that. Not pretty. And if he's got Darla and Drusilla with him, I say run, do not walk, to the far ends of the earth. The only thing that could make it worse is if he hooks up with Spike again." Cordelia shuddered at the memory of having to drive her Grandmother's car until Angelus had been de-invited from her convertible. "Who's Spike?" * * * * * Three hours later, Gunn passed a wooden sign that read "Welcome To Sunnydale". The town looked too white bread to be believed. Gunn shook his head. Suburbia. No way he would feel comfortable or blend in here. Not that there were no "persons of color" here, just they all looked as white as the whites. Gunn followed the directions Cordelia had given him to a seedy dive of a bar called Willie's Place. This was more his comfort zone. The sleazy underbelly of Sunnydale. He entered the building, slid his long frame onto a barstool and attracted the attention of the bartender. "Yo, my man, I'm looking for someone and you're gonna tell me where to find him." Gunn always favored the direct approach. The bartender, a short ferret-faced man with the air of a rabbit with a serious nervous disorder, shushed Gunn, waving his hands in the air. "Hey, pipe down. I can't just tell you about my customers. See most of 'em are what you might call very private sorts. I can't go around telling just anybody about them. It's bad for business." Gunn reached for his pants pocket. "I got a couple dead presidents here that'll soothe your conscience, brother. Now where can I find a vamp called Spike?" The greasy little man salivated. A bleached-blonde head halfway down the bar looked up and asked: "Who wants to know?" "I do. And if I don't find out, I may just have to let Angel know he was too scared to talk to me." The blonde patron pulled himself to his full height and replied: "The Great Poofini? Oh that is a threat. Well, you got me bang to rights, mate. I'm your vampire." Gunn looked Spike up and down. "Anyone bother to tell you the Billy Idol look is passé?" "Don't mention the ponce to me! Stole my look and then makes everyone think I'm just a wannabe. Not to mention how bad his music was. The Sex Pistols; now that's music." Gunn shrugged. "More of an NWA man, myself. Where can we talk?" "Hang on. Who are you, and why would I want to talk to you?" "I'm Gunn. I have two dead presidents that you can have if you spill. And if you don't want to talk, I've got a stake in my pocket says you don't make it to sunrise." Spike grinned. "Well aren't you the manly one? Come on, then, we can go back to my crypt. And I'll take the cash now, if you don't mind." He held out his hand. "Talk first. Money after. Take it or leave it." Spike glared for a moment, then led Gunn to his crypt. * * * * * Spike stuck his head through the door first. "Harm? You in there, Sweetbreads?" He waited a moment, but heard no reply. "Good. Got the place to ourselves. Harm's probably gone out for a bite to eat. Heard there was a frat party tonight. Well, make yourself at home, mate." Spike settled himself in what was obviously the most comfortable - not to mention the only - chair in the mausoleum. "Let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the deaths of kings." Gunn looked around. The only places left to sit were the bed and the aforementioned ground. He decided getting footprints on the white bedclothes would be more fun than getting dirt all over his butt or standing through the exchange. "So what's that from?" "Shakespeare. I'm guessing even you've heard of him." "Yeah, yeah, To be or not to be, what light through yonder window breaks, and all of that. I heard of him." "Good for you. So, what do you want to talk to me about? And those presidents you mentioned earlier? Wouldn't happen to be Ben Franklin would they?" "Franklin wasn't never president." "Oh. Well, Grant will still keep me in ciggies and O Pos for a bit. Now, what's the subject under discussion?" "Angel." Spike gave a bitter bark of laughter. "Look mate, the rules around here are simple: rules one, three, five and seven are No Poofters! I don't want to talk about that sodding nancy boy." "Fine. Because who I really want to know about is Angelus." Spike's ears pricked up. "Angelus? Why? Did our Blondie go cry on the Magnificent Poof's shoulder because her soldier boy flew off and left her? Don't even tell me those two had it off again!" "Huh? What're you talking about? He hasn't seen anybody but Darla for weeks now. Won't hardly talk to the rest of us." "Darla? Angel staked her himself almost four years ago. Dear Grandmama is long gone." "Well, she's looking mighty good for a dead person, and she will for a while since Drusilla came back and re-vamped her." Spike went even paler. "Dru? You say Dru's in LA?" "Yeah, and the two of them went on a killing spree. Now Angel's getting real strange and I think he's tripping with the Dark Side of The Force. So, I gotta know. What's Angelus like? What's his MO? What're his weaknesses?" "And why would I tell you how to defeat the Scourge of Europe?" "You're forgetting that either/or proposition I made you. You talk, you get dead presidents in your pocket. You don't talk, you get serious heartburn from the stake I got in the other pocket. Now, how do we stop the dude?" "How do you stop any vampire? Stakes, beheading, sunlight, fire, the usual. Got a Slayer - well, one that's not in love with him - that's an advantage. Lecture over, give me the cash." "Not yet. I say when I hand over the money. Now, if these three team up, what can we expect?" "To die young, mate. You and all your little friends can expect to be drained drier than the Sahara, and that's the lucky ones. The unlucky ones will get to know Angelus rather better. He likes to play mind games, and then body games with his victims. If you want to know the full scale of what Angelus can do, then you want to talk to a man here in town name of Rupert Giles. See, he's the only one I've seen stand everything Angelus could throw at him and walk away sane. If you've met Dru, you've seen a more typical reaction." "Haven't had the pleasure. So what's he do? I want details." The vampire laughed. "You don't need the details. You know what he is and you say you know how to use a stake. Use it. Do us all a favor." Gunn stood. "And why don't I just test out this stake on you?" "Because, mate, I've told you what you needed to know. Ask around. Even the vamps will tell you that Angelus is dangerous, and not quite all there in the head sometimes. If we fear him, you'd do well to see to it that he never gets a chance to return. Here endeth the lesson." Spike lit a cigarette for emphasis. His air of bravado was somewhat marred when he took a sudden step back as Gunn reached into his pocket. "Relax, man. You kept your end of the deal, I'll keep mine." He pulled two bills from his wallet and handed them to the vampire. "See, two dead presidents. Washington was a president. Later, my man." Gunn left the crypt and drove back to LA.