Food Fit For a God, Gunn, Illyria, Angel, post-series

[spikendru]

Title: Food Fit For a God
Author: spikeNdru
Characters: Gunn, Illyria, Angel; Gunn POV
Rating: PG
Summary: See requirements of the challenge.
Words: 4862
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox. No infringement is intended. I’m just playing with them. If there is a problem with that, contact my attorneys at Wolfram and Hart.
Author's Notes: Written for the Trapped Fanfic Challenge. The requirements for the challenge were:
Set One year after the last episode of Angel.
Illyria, Gunn and Angel survived the battle.
Told from either Gunn, Angel, or Illyria's POV.
Must have:
- Illyria eating
- A fight between Angel and Gunn about Illyria
- A battle scene where Illyria is fighting
- Illyria and Angel discussing the benefits of chocolate ice cream.

And, as usual, many thanks to makd for the beta.



Never did like those nasty-ass damn vamps. So how come I’m holed up out in the desert here with one of 'em and a Blue Meanie that used to be a god and none of us know what she is now? Damned if I know!

It’s a long story, but I got time. That’s about all I do got now since I lost almost everything that mattered to me.

Oh, I’m still a lawyer-a damn good lawyer. But that’s one of the things that doesn’t matter anymore.

I’m forgetting my manners. . . “Please allow me to introduce myself.” That’s a line from a Stones song called “Sympathy for the Devil” and it seemed appropriate, cause sympathy for a devil-a vamp-is what got me into this whole mess in the first place.

My name is Charles Gunn and I do have manners. My mama brought me up right-before she and my old man were killed in a car crash when I was fifteen. I took my little sister Alonna and we ran when that happened, cause I wasn’t about to let social services split us up and put us in no foster home. I made sure I brought up Alonna right-taught her manners like mama would have wanted. We had a good life together. We teamed up with a crew of orphans and other kids that had nothin’, too. It might not have looked like a good life from the outside, but we were a family, and we did alright. Till some of them nasty-ass vamps moved into our territory and started killing people. Sucked the life right out of 'em and we’d fought too hard to make a good life to let some bloodsucker take it away from us. So we fought back.

We learned and we trained and we became warriors. An army of children and society’s throwaways. We fought back. And we kept our territory clean of vamps and pimps and pushers and anyone else trying to suck the life out of us.

Nobody else seemed to care, so we did it ourselves. All those people in their fine houses with their fine automobiles had no idea what was going on right under their noses. They didn’t care. So we trained and we fought and I got us a fine vehicle, too, although I had to sell my soul to do it. It was a sweet truck, all tricked out for vamp killin’ and we had a good life. Didn’t matter if nobody else cared what happened to us.

But then, somebody did care. And wouldn’t you just know it-it was a nasty-ass vamp who cared! But this one was different. He had a soul and he made it his business to help those who couldn’t help themselves. I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the concept of a “good” vamp, and some of my crew were never able to do that. So when my baby sister got killed and sired and I just couldn’t stay with the crew after that, I went to work with him-Angel. The vamp with a soul was called Angel, and I joined his team.

We did a lot of good. Helped a lot of people. Even saved the world. And then we went to work for an evil law firm and I became a lawyer. Don’t ask me why we did this-I’m still not clear on all the details. Something to do with fighting evil from within the belly of the beast, like Jonah, only some of us got swallowed.

And then I lost more people that mattered to me. Cordelia. She was a feisty little thing. I remember one time she followed me all over the 'hood, bound and determined to protect me. She was gonna protect me? A spoiled rich girl, former cheerleader, aspiring actress was gonna protect me! But you know what? She did. That girl was like a pit bull when she got her teeth into something. She wouldn’t let go and she never gave up trying to help people.

We lost Wesley, too. He mighta come across at times like a pansy-ass, but that man was pure steel inside. We almost lost him once when he was gut-shot tryin' to protect the brothers and the throwaway kids-he was like Cordelia in that, only not as sarcastic. He recovered and then he eventually stabbed me in the gut and then he got stabbed in the gut and it killed him. Seems to be a general “gut” theme here going on with regards to Wesley. And it’s appropriate-the man had guts!

There were other losses-outside of my sister Alonna, the worst for me was Fred. For one brief, magical spring, Fred and I were in love. No, I ain’t gay-Fred’s a girl. Winifred Burkle. That girl had an appetite the size o' Texas and a heart to match. The others are dead and gone. I can mourn them and remember the good times and the truly exceptional people they were. With Fred, it’s harder, cause she’s dead, but her body was co-opted by Illyria-the demon-god I mentioned. Big Blue is an entirely different entity, but she can mimic Fred when she wants to. It’s . . . creepy and unsettling when she does that. She doesn’t really do it much since Wesley’s death-unless she wants to piss off Angel or me, 'cause she knows it gets to us.

So we’re all that’s left now. Angel and me and Big Blue. A demon army overran Los Angeles and it’s their city now. We fought-took out as many as we could, the four of us. Yeah. Four. Four of us against the armies of hell. How do you like them odds?

Spike was with us then. Another vamp with a soul. He fought for good, like Angel, but otherwise, he wasn’t really like Angel at all. He was irreverent and had a wicked sense of humor, but he was deep, too. We went out and got drunk together a couple of times, and let me tell you, the man had the soul of a poet. He really felt things inside, but tried to cover it up with sarcasm. He was sorta like Cordy in that.

And he loved a good fight. He was . . . gleeful during that last big fight a year ago. Angel was coldly determined, Illyria was all business, I was sure I was gonna die and just wanted to take as many of them with me as I could, but Spike-Spike was laughing and singing and having a fine time. He died saving Angel. A demon had got behind Angel with this big old sword and had started the downward arc to behead him, when Spike jumped in and shoved Angel out of the way, screaming “I did it my-y-y-y-y-y way!” at the top of his lungs. I swear, I still heard him laughing after he turned to dust. Angel snatched a handful out of the air and put it in his pocket and then kept right on fighting.

I don’t remember much else. I was getting pretty dizzy from the loss of blood and I may have passed out, 'cause the next thing I remember is waking up here-in a cave in the desert with Angel and Illyria and the Firebird.

The demons have taken over LA, but the rest of the world didn’t seem to notice. We’ve spent the past year doing recon and raids and we’re almost ready to make our move. Angel’s convinced a Senior Partner came through when W&H collapsed and it’s him or it that’s running things now in LA. If we can take him out, we might have a chance to get things back on track. That’s the plan, anyway. And that’s us-still tiltin' at windmills. But, hey, I never figured any of us would survive that last battle, so maybe we do have a chance. We made it this far.

When I woke up, I was completely disoriented. I was burnin' up with fever and lightheaded from that and the blood loss, but at least I wasn’t dead! It was still raining some and that was good cause Angel had taken the Firebird to get supplies. Illyria had gathered some rocks and made a cistern of sorts to catch the rainwater so we’d have water to drink if it took awhile for Angel to get back. She’d made a fire in the cave and the front of me felt like I was burning up, while the back was wet and cold and clammy. I was sweating and shivering at the same time, but that may have been from the fever. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t hallucinating, though. I know what I saw and you can believe me or not.

Illyria sat cross-legged on the other side of the fire, and I’m not sure if she was experimenting or having dinner, but she had a whole variety of things you could find in the desert and she ate them one by one. Damndest thing I ever saw! She may have been communing with the environment, or maybe she was just hungry.

First, she picked up a piece of rock from the floor of the cave and put it in her mouth. She tilted her head and just sat there for awhile, but she never removed the rock. I don’t know what happened to it-maybe she digested it. She then proceeded to eat a lizard, some kind of scrub brush-tumbleweed thing, a cactus leaf, a live jackrabbit, bat droppings and a strange-looking glowing mushroom-type fungus. Big Blue would’ve kicked ass on Fear Factor, and that’s no lie! Each time, she just opened her mouth and sort of encompassed the thing. She’d tilt her head and sit there motionless until she decided she was finished with that particular tidbit and then go on to the next. Damn! Maybe she got her voracious appetite from Fred.

I’ve seen Fred order the Denny’s “Grand Slam Slugger” breakfast and put away every bite-eggs, sausage, bacon, hashbrowns, pancakes, toast, milk, orange juice and coffee! And a couple hours later, be ready for lunch. But I never saw anyone eat a rock and a whole damn twenty-pound jackrabbit before, and I hope never to see that again!

I was never so glad in my life to have a vamp show up as I was when Angel came back. He got me patched up and pumped me full of antibiotics and painkillers and plenty of fluids while Illyria sat there-digesting. The next week was kind of hazy, but eventually I recovered.

We started making commando raids on the city, killing demons when we could, stealing supplies and staying under the radar of the Senior Partners. That was their one weakness. They absolutely couldn’t conceive that any of us could have survived the battle, and we wanted to keep it that way for as long as we could. Since they were sure we were dead, no one was looking for us or even thinking about us, and that was our ace in the hole.

Sometimes Angel would go out alone and snatch a demon and torture it for information. He never let us come with him on those raids. I don’t think he wanted us to see him like that. Once Her Highness tracked him on one of his solo raids. He took the car, but she managed to follow him to see where he went and what he did. Angel was furious about that. Illyria wanted to start doing recon of her own after that, but Angel didn’t entirely trust her. He was afraid she might still be tryin' to assemble a demon army of her own, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

We might have escaped the Senior Partners’ notice for now, but Illyria knew all about us. She knew all our strengths and weaknesses and he didn’t want to chance her takin' us out before we had a chance to try for the whole enchilada.

That’s the one fight I can remember having with him during the tenure of our exile; about Illyria’s motives and commitment to “the cause”. He didn’t trust her and I said if the three of us couldn’t trust each other, we might as well throw in the towel now. The argument got a little heated and we were yelling and poking fingers and shoving each other and finally he yelled, “You don’t know anything! Just shut up, Spike!” He froze and turned away. Well, that put a damper on the fight and I guess he finally saw my point, because after that we were a unit and Angel and Illyria took turns gathering intel.

Time went by, and we got stronger and we trained harder 'cause when the time was right, we wanted to be ready. We collected weapons-swords and axes and grenades and a flame thrower. We developed quite the arsenal in our desert cave. But we all knew the most finely-honed weapons would have to be ourselves.

Finally, things were in place-it had been a long, hard year, but we were as ready as we’d ever be. It was sink or swim time. We hashed out the final details of our assault. Angel had been in contact with a shaman Wes trusted and arranged for him to do the mystical tattoo thing for the three of us. Hey, it worked for Lindsey, so it was worth a shot. Might be enough to get us in the door under the radar.

We’d take the Firebird to the shaman’s tomorrow, then exchange it for a panel truck the shaman had ready for us. The Firebird had come from W&H and Angel didn’t want to pull up to the door in it and maybe tip our hand. So things were in readiness for tomorrow, and we just had to get through tonight. So we went to the mall.

Yep. The mall. Why the mall, you ask? Or, at least I did, when Angel first suggested it.

“What better place to connect with a cross-section of humanity? To mingle with and remember who we’re actually doing this for-human beings. They’re ultimately the reason why we keep on fighting. To give Joe Schmo and Jane Doe the chance to live their allotted lifetime-to make their own choices and decisions and experiences, and I’m not gonna let some demon take that away from them. Besides, Buffy always liked the mall so I thought maybe we should see what it has to offer,” was his reply.

Illyria changed into her Fred-suit 'cause we all agreed that although Angel could pass as human, Illyria would just call too much attention to us, and that we wanted to avoid.

We wandered around together for awhile and then I ran into some old friends from the neighborhood, so we decided to split up and meet later at the food court.

I hung with my friends for awhile, catching up on people I hadn’t heard from in years and it was cool. I don’t know what Angel did with his time*, but I saw “Frellyria” in the arcade playing the games as we walked past. We stopped at the B-ball court and shot hoops for awhile and I was really startin' to get why this was a good idea. We’d been livin' in the desert like some isolated crazed militia, which is what I guess we actually are, and it was good to feel normal for awhile.

For the first time in a year, the time seemed to fly by instead of dragging on with agonizing slowness. All too soon it seemed, it was time to go. We all said how good it was to see each other and made vague promises to keep in touch, and then I headed for the food court. I had a sudden craving for a taco and a slice of pizza.

I picked up my food and looked around, and there were Angel and Illyria at a little table in front of Baskin-Robbins-thirty one little pink dishes spread out over the table in front of them. They were having a heated discussion on the merits of the various flavors, so I pulled up a chair, ate my food and listened. And I gotta say, it was pretty surreal. Think about it-a vampire and a being that eats rocks discussing ice cream like connoisseurs.

Angel was lamenting the lack of chocolate chip-fudge-mint-cookie dough, and Illyria suggested they make it from the available flavors. Angel brightened right up at that and they started combining samples from different dishes, but Illyria accidentally added some guava and Angel was not amused. At least I think it was accidental-she might have done it on purpose to see his reaction. I couldn’t resist getting into the act and we came up with some really outrageous flavors!

Suddenly Illyria stopped, tilted her head and proclaimed, “Of all the various substances available, the one called ‘chocolate’ is the most aesthetically pleasing.”

“Chocolate’s good, but chocolate and peanut butter is the best,” Angel contributed.

Illyria considered. “I disagree. The consistency of the peanut butter when hard and frozen detracts from the smoothness of the chocolate. It is similar to the distraction of the seeds in the strawberry and the rubbery flakes in the coconut.”

“But you gotta admit the combination of the flavors of the chocolate and peanut butter is greater than the sum of the parts. Neither, alone, has the hearty, yet mellow boldness of the combination.”

“You are incorrect. When sampled together, the peanut butter has the tendency to overwhelm the more piquant flavor of the chocolate and you cannot ignore the grittiness of the texture.”

“Gunn,” Angel turned to me to elicit support for his position. “Chocolate and peanut butter is much better than chocolate alone, isn’t it? Tell her.”

“Truthfully?” I asked. They both nodded, watching me eagerly. “I like vanilla best.”

We all laughed and cleared off the table and headed home.

So that’s my story. I just wanted to leave a record of who we are and what we tried to do, because it will be all over with tomorrow. Either we’ll have pushed back the darkness one more time and no one will even know that the world and life as we know it was in danger, or we’ll lose and the demons will control your very existence. And you might not even know that, either. But maybe someday, someone will know we tried. And that might be enough for others to try; to make a difference.

So I’m puttin' this into a glass bottle and leaving it here. We three won’t be coming back here whichever way it goes. If you find this, know that we cared. We fought. We did our best. That’s all any of us can do. I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to a bright future!

Charles Gunn, Esquire
Angel Investigations

P.S. Alonna Gunn, Alan Francis Doyle, Cordelia Chase, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Winifred Burkle and Spike (I never knew his real name) were heroes. Never forget that. They died for all of us.

Peace out,
Gunn

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The panel truck pulled around to the service entrance at W&H. Gunn climbed out of the truck, leaving the engine running, and sauntered around the side of the building. “Frellyria” slid into the driver’s seat in case a quick getaway was necessary. Angel crouched in the back of the truck, blanket ready.

As Gunn watched, one of the attorneys left the building, cell phone clutched to his ear, gesturing animatedly, as he hurried toward the Starbucks on the corner. His cell went flying as a strip of cloth lassoed his neck, jerking him backwards. A pair of gloved hands put pressure on his carotid arteries and he was unconscious in seconds. Gunn dragged him into the landscaping and relieved him of his identity card. The entire operation was accomplished in under two minutes. Returning to the truck, Gunn showed the card to Angel.

Angel smiled briefly. “If they haven’t bothered to change the codes, we’re in business, boys and girls.”

Gunn slipped a maintenance jumpsuit over his clothes and added a billed cap. Similarly dressed, “Frellyria” shut off the engine and climbed out of the truck. Throwing the blanket over him, Angel jumped out of the back of the truck and ran for the access door. Swiping the stolen card, Angel keyed in the access code and the door clicked open.

Entering first, Angel sniffed the air and then motioned the others in. Red and green sensor lights glowed on both sides of the corridor.

“Guess we’ll find out fast if Lindsey’s mojo’s still good,” Gunn remarked, and stepped between the sensors. “Could be silent alarms, or just maybe we’re gonna get away with this!”

They followed the corridor to the staircase at the end. A shimmering wave passed over her as the visage of Fred disappeared and Illyria stood revealed in all her blue glory.

Illyria paused and tilted her head. “The greatest concentration of power is emanating from the area formerly utilized as Angel’s office-slash-conference room.”

“Makes sense,” Gunn replied.

“Okay,” Angel said. “We take the stairs to the corridor on my floor. We’ll be exposed from the time we exit the stairwell till we get to my office. We can pass electronic surveillance, but we’re not invisible to human-or demon-eyes, so smooth and steady, and once the office doors open, be prepared to fight.”

Gunn and Illyria nodded.

“Go.”

Moving as quietly as possible, they climbed three flights of stairs and at Angel’s nod, slipped into the corridor leading to the side door of Angel’s former office.

“The emanations are getting stronger, but the being does not know we are here. The mystical symbols are performing their cloaking functions as expected,” Illyria stated and turned to Angel.

“Two Vor’toth demons-probably bodyguards. Four demons of various species, which I’m guessing are clients or subordinates, having some kind of meeting, and the big cheese, which is reading similar to the way Illyria did at first, but with human scent which she didn’t have.”

“What does that mean?” Gunn asked.

“My best guess is a human host containing the essence of a Senior Partner. The SP probably still has a viable body in another dimension, so hasn’t reconfigured the host as Illyria did-it just uses the body to manifest in this dimension.”

“What’s that doin’ to the host? Can’t be good.”

“Do we really care, Gunn? Whoever the host is, it’s compliant and has to be destroyed.”

“Gotcha.”

“Okay, people. We’re ready. We’ve trained, we’ve planned, this is it.”

Gunn nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Trying the knob on the side door and finding it locked, Angel braced himself and yanked. The door splintered from its frame and five startled sets of eyes swung toward the noise. The Vor’toth merely grunted and raised their traditional scimitars.

Angel and Illyria each took on one of the Vor’toth. Gunn swung his ax and decapitated one of the clients.

Dropping to a crouch, Illyria extended her right leg and swept the Vor’toth off its feet. With a roar, it was back up and coming for her, scimitar raised. Angel grabbed its head with both hands and gave a sharp twist. Illyria caught the scimitar in mid air and flung it at the Vor’toth coming up behind Angel, slicing off its arm. Angel turned and punched it in the face and it went down.

Illyria whirled to engage one of the clients and Angel turned to see. . .

“Eve?”

The being that was “Eve” opened her mouth and a stream of fire came roaring out. Angel jumped back, grabbed a client and flipped the demon over his head to land in front of him as a shield. The second blast of fire incinerated the client and Angel beat out the flames on his left hand.

“Quigorn,” said Illyria, “You expend your energy serving the wolf, the ram and the hart?”

“Eve” roared. “They serve me!”

Illyria tilted her head. “That is an erroneous statement. It is a falsehood. Your power is diminished, your kingdom is lost and you grovel for crumbs from the wolf, ram and hart!”

“Uh, Blue? Maybe it’s not such a good idea to piss off a . . . a . . . whatever the hell that thing is!” Gunn called.

Eve’s body began to glow and luminous cracks began to appear in her skin.

“Damn, where’s Wes’ ray gun when we need it?”

“Angel! Help me!” The human part of Eve turned anguished eyes on Angel.

“Quigorn, your time is at an end.” Illyria faced Eve as Angel took out the last client.

“Who dares to speak my sacred name? Fall on your knees and worship me, mortal!”

Illyria tilted her head as more cracks began to form in Eve’s body and light shot out.

“You are in error, Quigorn. I am not mortal. I am Illyria!” And she opened her mouth and swallowed the power that was Quigorn.

The husk that had been Eve fell lifeless to the floor. There was a sound like a sonic thunderclap and Gunn’s and Angel’s ears began to bleed as the portal to the Senior Partners’ dimension was sealed. Illyria tilted her head and looked at Angel.

“This was not the work of the Senior Partners. Quigorn was acting alone in attempting to manifest in this dimension. He wished to rule. He was a fool. He was only a minor deity compared to the power that was Illyria.”

She flung back her head and screamed. The pitch rose higher until Gunn could no longer hear it. He figured they were in dog whistle territory, now.

Angel clasped both hands over his ears and sank to his knees.

Gunn tugged on his sleeve and mouthed, “What’s going on? What’s she doing?”

Angel gritted his teeth in pain and vamped out. Gunn jumped back a step, but then realized the vamp face was an involuntary reaction to whatever Illyria was doing.

Angel motioned Gunn closer, and with a sidelong glance, Gunn tightened his grip on his battle ax and complied.

Angel whispered the translation.

“Hear me, demonkind of Los Angelus. Quigorn is no more. I have taken his power and I hold your lives in my beneficence. All who have gathered to answer Quigorn’s summons, your presence is no longer required. Leave this place at once and return to whence you came or face my wrath. I am Illyria. I have spoken.”

The noise abruptly stopped and Angel collapsed on the floor, bleeding from his ears and nose.

Gunn slipped out to the employee lounge and returned with a mug in his hand to discover Angel had managed to make it into a chair.

“Guess what I found?” Gunn handed him the mug. “They still keep the gourmet otter in the freezer. Unless it’s left over from your stash last year. Does frozen blood go bad?” Gunn shrugged. “Guess it’s not gonna kill you.”

Angel took the mug and downed the warmed blood in one gulp. He looked at the mug, and turned it in his hands.

“You know what I’d really like? Chocolate chip-fudge-mint-cookie dough.”

Illyria tilted her head. “I would also like to repeat my experiences with the frozen confection.”

“Hey, Illyria,” Gunn threw one arm over Illyria’s shoulders and the other over Angel’s. Both stared at him with identical expressions, which bordered on dismay. Gunn grinned and nudged them to the door as he continued, “You ever try French Silk? Now, that’s a chocolate fit for a god!”

Illyria looked at him. “French Silk? Come. I wish to experience this immediately.”

All over town, the minions of Quigorn scrambled to get out of LA, while the conquering heroes went out for ice cream.

The End

* While at the mall, Angel discovered an Arthur Murray dance studio, and took a Salsa lesson! *g* sNd

Tags: angel, gunn, illyria, post-series