Title: Deconstructing Demons
        Author: Kath wesfan1@adelphia.net
        Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. The credit/blame belongs to 
        Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox. 
        Rating: PG-13
        Summary: Gunn and Wes do some cleaning up around the hotel.
        Spoilers: This is a 'missing scene' from Shiny Happy People so, yeah, 
        spoilers for that ep and all the ones before it.
        Distribution: http://www.yeswes.com Anyone else, just let me know.
        Feedback: Please! Constructive criticism, praise and helpful hints 
        always welcome.
        Notes: Thanks to DubDub for the beta and the title. This is my first 
        finished fic in a year, so I really want to know what you think. Thanks!

        "So," Gunn panted, leaning forward and pressing his hands against his 
        thighs as he caught his breath. "Any ideas on how we're gonna get rid of 
        the Tin Man here?" He eyed the hulking remains of Skip the demon, which 
        now lay at his feet in the Hyperion basement, then looked up at Wesley. 
        The two men had just spent the better part of a half hour dragging the 
        demon into the hotel elevator, only to discover that the many 
        earthquakes that had recently shaken Los Angeles had rendered the 
        equipment non-functional. Well, that's how Wesley'd worded it. Gunn had 
        simply let loose a string of colorful curses, declared it "fucking dead" 
        and begun to drag Skip back out and towards the basement stairs. He had 
        to admit there was something oddly satisfying about the thunking noise 
        the demon's head made on its way down.

        Wesley swiped a shirt sleeve across his sweaty brow and pushed himself 
        away from the wall he'd been leaning against. He wiped his palms on his 
        jeans then rubbed them together as if eager to reveal his plan. "Right, 
        well, we know Skip came from another dimension and that conventional 
        weapons were of no use against his natural armor. Even Angel, with his 
        vampirical strength, was only able to render the creature unconscious, 
        and judging from his cuts and bruises, it was after quite a battle. 
        Therefore, I would say..." Gunn found himself leaning forward a little, 
        nodding his encouragement. Wes held the dramatic pause a moment longer, 
        then sighed and let his shoulders slump. "I have no idea," he finished 
        lamely.

        "*What*?" Gunn cried out indignantly. "You had me draggin' ten tons of 
        demon all over the hotel, and you didn't even have a *plan*?!

        "There is no need to exaggerate," Wes huffed. "And besides, I thought 
        you no longer had any interest in anything *I* might have to say."

        Ouch. Gunn grimaced and was a little surprised to see Wesley do the 
        same. They stared at each other for a moment, then Wesley continued, in 
        a much softer tone. "I-I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

        Gunn's eyebrows raised at Wes' apology, and he felt a sudden surge of 
        guilt himself. "No, you were -" he began, then shook his head. "Look, 
        Angel's out there searching for Cordy, *our friend* who's suddenly 
        turned evil and is about to give birth to Rosemary's baby, and he may 
        have to kill them both. There's probably another apocalypse around the 
        corner, and we've just been told everything we've done in the last 
        however many years has been controlled by the Evil Powers That Fuck Us, 
        or whoever. We're two smart guys. We should be able to figure out how to 
        dismantle one slightly indestructible demon...if we work together." He 
        watched as a grin slowly spread across Wesley's face, and he found 
        himself smiling back.

        "All right, then..." Wesley turned to look around and stopped when he 
        caught sight of the large cabinets lining the far wall. "I suggest we 
        make use of some of the larger weapons at our disposal. Surely one of 
        those will do the trick."

        Gunn followed him over and opened the nearest cabinet. "Sounds like a 
        plan, only don't call me Shirley." He pulled out a heavy axe with a 
        thick oak handle, testing its weight in his hand. He laughed when he saw 
        the puzzled expression on Wes's face. "Never mind. Dumb movie joke."

        "Ah."

        * * * * * 

        Thirty minutes - and several failed tools and weapons - later, Gunn was 
        sawing away at Skip's elbow with a hack saw, with some small success, 
        only he was beginning to wonder whose arm was going to give out first, 
        his or the demon's. Hearing a noise on the stairs, he paused in his 
        labors and turned to watch Wesley returning with a cold bottle of beer 
        in each hand. Wes pulled a nearby chair closer and flopped down onto it 
        wearily. He then peered down to examine his colleague's progress.

        "Slow going then?"

        Gunn snorted in reply and stood up to retrieve a chair of his own from a 
        haphazard stack near the furnace. Dropping it down next to Wesley's he 
        straddled it backwards and quickly accepted the proffered beer. "At this 
        rate my grandkids will be finishing the job."

        Both men stared somberly at Skip's body and drank their beer in silence, 
        until Gunn couldn't keep his thoughts to himself any longer. "Do you 
        think he was telling the truth?"

        Without a beat, Wes answered him, confirming Gunn's suspicions that 
        they'd both been thinking the same thing. "That all of our actions these 
        past three years or more have been manipulated by a greater power for 
        its own gain? That we've no free will or ability to shape our own 
        destinies?" His face took on the familiar thoughtful frown that told 
        Gunn Wes was in full analyze mode. "I - I just can't see how that's 
        possible...to predict the actions of so many people, with such accuracy. 
        I *can* believe Cordelia was manipulated into becoming part demon and 
        agreeing to become a higher being, but what about the rest of us? 
        Angel's chance encounter with you and your gang, for instance, or my 
        getting shot in the gut by a zombie policeman. Who could have predicted 
        I..." He trailed off and turned towards Gunn, his expression a strange 
        combination of guilt and hope. "Still, it would be almost a relief if it 
        were true, wouldn't it?"

        Gunn felt his jaw drop open in surprise and quickly snapped it shut. He 
        didn't know what to say.

        "I mean," Wes continued, his fingers tracing random patterns in the 
        sweat on his beer bottle. "We've all said things, done things..."

        It didn't take much for Gunn to figure out what Wesley was probably 
        referring to, nor did it take long for his own laundry list of regrets 
        to begin marching through his head: Alonna; George, Rondell and the rest 
        of the gang; Fred's professor. He scowled at the floor and shook his 
        head. "Nah, man. I hear what you're sayin', but our mistakes make us who 
        we are. Besides, blaming them on someone - or some*thing* - else ain't 
        gonna make the bad stuff go away."

        Wesley nodded thoughtfully. "You're right, of course. Free will is part 
        of what makes us human...and, despite everything that's happened, there 
        are some things I wouldn't change, even given the consequences."

        When Wesley didn't immediately continue, Gunn studied him, trying to 
        figure out what the man *wasn't* saying. He wondered if Wes was talking 
        about Fred, then quickly clamped down on those thoughts. He didn't have 
        the right to be jealous anymore. Probably never did, if he were truly 
        honest with himself. He told himself it wasn't any of his business 
        anyway, then found himself asking "Like what?" despite his best 
        intentions.

        There was a pause, then a softly spoken "Lilah."

        Okay, not the answer Gunn was expecting. "Uhm. Chopping her head off? 
        'Cause I know she was the Evil Bitch Queen and all, but I didn't think 
        you hated her that mu-" Wesley's glare cut him off. He raised both hands 
        in a sign of surrender. "Okay, I'm guessin' that's not it."

        Wes stared at Gunn, the angry lines creasing his face slowly relaxing 
        into a expression of surprised understanding. "You didn't...Fred never 
        told you?"

        He and Fred hadn't done a whole lot of productive talking towards the 
        end there. Thankfully, it was getting a little easier again, but Wesley 
        wasn't exactly a topic either of them was comfortable with yet. Gunn set 
        his half empty bottle on the floor and folded his arms across his chest. 
        "Nope."

        "We slept together."

        Gunn jumped up out of his seat, nearly knocking it over in his haste. 
        "You and Fred?!"

        Wes rolled his eyes. "No, idiot. Me and *Li-lah*." He pronounced her 
        name slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

        "Oh." Gunn hung his head sheepishly and sat back down. Then it sunk in. 
        "Say *what*?!"

        "I slept with -"

        "Okay, okay," he waved him off. "I heard you the first time and I'm 
        hopin' you meant it was a long time ago, in a 
        using-her-to-get-information kinda way."

        The corners of Wes's mouth curled up slightly into the briefest of 
        smiles. "Not exactly. We had... well, I suppose calling it a torrid 
        affair wouldn't be that far off."

        "Uh. Huh." Gunn tried to picture Wesley having torrid anything with 
        anyone, then wished he hadn't.

        "She first approached me not long after I was released from the 
        hospital, after this." Wes gestured vaguely towards the his neck. "And 
        you don't really want to be hearing any of this, do you?"

        Gunn decided to give in to his curiosity. He angled his chair more 
        towards Wesley's and shrugged. "Nah. I mean, sure. If you want to talk 
        about her, it's okay."

        "Okay," Wes said slowly. He stood up and paced over to what had until 
        recently been Angelus's cage, running a finger along one of the bars 
        before turning to face Gunn again. "Well, she chased me shamelessly, no 
        doubt eager to take advantage of my newfound bitterness and isolation, 
        to recruit me for Wolfram & Hart. I, of course refused, but she was 
        relentless. She followed me when I went out, brought me gifts; she even 
        arranged to have Justine killed by vampires while I watched, partially 
        as a test of what she perceived to be my new moral ambiguity."

        Gunn let out a low whistle. "But didn't Justine -"

        Wesley held up a hand to silence him. "Angel swept in to save her." 
        There was no denying a hint of bitterness in Wes's voice, even now. "He 
        came in with... That's how I learned Connor had returned from Quartoth." 
        He closed his eyes and paused for a moment before continuing. "I was 
        drinking quite heavily most days by then and frankly was close to 
        hitting rock bottom when Lilah finally pushed me too far. In a moment of 
        anger I physically threatened her life. This turned out to be an 
        incredible turn on for her, and, well, one thing led to another..." He 
        shrugged, mimicking Gunn's earlier one. "It made a kind of twisted sense 
        at the time." He thought about it, then added "Actually, it was quite 
        liberating."

        Gunn's mind continued to boggle. The slight leer now on Wes's face was 
        just so *wrong*. This was the guy who'd declared his 'arse' was 'not 
        pansy' a mere two years ago? "Uh," was all he could think of to say. He 
        grabbed up his beer and drained the rest of it.

        "The thing about Lilah," Wes leaned back casually against the cage and 
        continued, obviously warming to his topic. "She's..." He winced and 
        caught himself. "She *was* devious and determined, and ambitious, and 
        fearless. She was also beautiful, and sexy, and honest in her own way..."

        "And hot?" Gunn heard himself ask.

        "God, yes!"

        Wesley had his eyes closed again and was idly tracing the scar on his 
        neck with an index finger. Gunn wondered if he was even aware of the 
        action. Shit, the guy had it bad, even now. "She was also evil," Gunn 
        felt obligated to reminded him.

        Wes opened his eyes and looked down at Gunn sadly. "Yes, there was 
        always that. It's not like I could ever forget, at least not for long. 
        Still, when we were together, it didn't matter what she'd done in the 
        past, what I'd done. She accepted - I suppose you could say she 
        preferred - my 'darker' side, for lack of a better term. Even at my very 
        worst she accepted me just as I was. You have no idea how..." He seemed 
        to be searching for the right word. "*freeing* that was. How much I 
        needed that."

        Gunn studied the empty beer bottle in his hand, avoiding Wesley's gaze. 
        He wanted to tell him that he *did* have an idea. That, after he'd 
        killed Professor Sidel, Gunn had felt completely alone. That it had 
        broken his heart when he realized Fred couldn't accept what he'd done, 
        what he'd become. He thought back to a few weeks earlier. Lilah lying 
        dead on the carpet. Wesley kneeling beside her, silent and staring. 
        Grieving, Gunn now realized. He should have known then, and maybe he 
        did. Maybe he just hadn't wanted to admit he'd been wrong about so many 
        things. About Wesley. He wanted to tell his friend he understood, but 
        the words were stuck in his throat and all he could do was nod as Wesley 
        continued.

        "In point of fact, I treated Lilah horribly, and she-" Wes swallowed 
        hard. "She kept coming back for more. I broke it off, told her to leave 
        town, but of course she refused. She always was such a fucking, stubborn 
        bitch." He smiled weakly at Gunn and bent down to retrieve his beer. 
        "Sorry, didn't mean to turn all morose on you. Perhaps it would be 
        better if we changed the subject."

        Gunn shifted uncomfortably in his chair and cleared his throat. "Uh, 
        yeah, sure. Ain't like we don't have other shit to deal with." He gave 
        Skip's body a quick kick with his boot and the demon's head lolled to 
        one side, revealing the hole Wesley had shot the bullet through. Gunn 
        got up and moved over to kneel next to the body and examine the hole 
        closer. Curious, Wes came and leaned over his shoulder to see too.

        "My, that was an impressive shot, wasn't it?"

        "Word." Gunn nodded in agreement then turned to look over his shoulder. 
        "Not like you're bragging or anything." Wes wasn't even trying to hide 
        his smug expression, so Gunn chose to ignore it. "So, I was thinkin'." 
        Gunn went back to looking at Skip. "What if we got some tiny sticks of 
        dynamite, stuck them in this hole and blew him up from the inside?"

        Wesley came around so that he was now facing Gunn. "Why yes, what a 
        marvelous idea. Flying shrapnel aside, an explosion in the basement of a 
        building that has already sustained a great deal of structural damage 
        due to earthquakes should be just the thing. Any suspicious demon 
        remains would surely be buried under the rubble, when the hotel came 
        crashing down on our heads."

        Even if Wesley hadn't been smiling, Gunn could recognize sarcasm when it 
        bit him on the ass. "You couldn'ta just said 'That's a bad idea, Gunn.'?"

        "That's a *very* bad idea, Gunn." Wesley promptly repeated.

        Gunn thought some more. "Light him on fire?"

        "Poor ventilation, plus the possibility of toxic fumes."

        Gunn threw up his hands. "Okay, that's all I got. Guess it's back to 
        using old fashioned muscle again." He sighed and reached for the saw.

        Wes reached out and put a staying hand on Gunn's shoulder. "No, you're 
        right. It will take far longer than we have at the moment to dispose of 
        Skip that way." He scratched thoughtfully at his beard and looked around 
        the room again. "What we need is something with more power."

        Gunn shook his head to get rid of the image of Wes as the host of 'Tool 
        Time' and mentally vowed to stop watching so much television. Pointing 
        at a door partially obscured by a stack of dusty cardboard boxes marked 
        'Linens', he asked "What's in there?"

        Wesley joined him in examining the door. "I have no idea. I never really 
        felt the need to do much exploring down here past the training area. The 
        basement was always more Angel's domain."

        The two men shoved the boxes aside, revealing the faded word 
        'Maintenance' painted on the door. One blow with the blunt side of an 
        axe broke open its rusted padlock, Wesley reached in and found the light 
        switch, and they were now apparently standing in some sort of workshop. 
        A tall, wooden work bench took up space along one wall, and was 
        cluttered with nails, screws and an assortment of small hand tools. 
        Behind it, more tools hung from hooks on a peg wall. Further back, a 
        push lawn mower could be seen, partially obscured by a green tarp.

        "This looks promising." Wesley clapped his hands together and moved 
        further into the dank room.

        Gunn wrinkled his nose and swiped at some cobwebs hanging down from, 
        well, everywhere, and scowled. "Promising for mold and mildew, you mean. 
        This place got a funky smell. You notice that?"

        Wesley's only answer was a triumphant "Aha!" From beneath the green tarp 
        he was dragging a heavy, metal buzzsaw.

        Gunn grinned and moved to take it from him. "Cool!"

        Wes stepped back. "I found it. I feel it only right that I get to be the 
        first to try it out."

        Gunn raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Yeah, but *I* found the 
        door." Wes tried to stare him down, then reluctantly allowed Gunn to 
        take it from him. "Ha!" Gunn carried his prize back over to Skip's body 
        and began looking for a place to plug it in. Wes didn't immediately 
        follow him out and Gunn was just about to wonder if he was still in 
        there sulking, when Wes emerged wearing..."English, what the hell have 
        you got on?"

        Wes looked down, then back at Gunn, giving him a look that suggested it 
        was bloody obvious. "Coveralls. I found them hanging on a hook in there. 
        I didn't see the need to ruin my clothing if there was another option 
        available."

        "You look ridiculous, just so you know."

        "Which is why," Wesley pulled something blue from behind his back."I 
        made sure there was a pair for you as well." He also produced two sets 
        of safety goggles.

        Gunn stared at Wes, and Wes stared back, barely hiding his amusement. 
        Finally, Gunn gave in and snatched the items from Wesley's hands. "Fine. 
        Whatever." He was just about to step into the coveralls when Wesley 
        coughed politely. "What now?"

        "You might want to shake them out first."

        Gunn eyed him suspiciously, then turned away to shake out the clothing. 
        A slew of beetles, spiders and other creepy crawlies flew from its 
        sleeves and legs. Pretending he couldn't care less, Gunn quickly pulled 
        the coveralls on over his clothes and slipped on the goggles. Waving 
        Wesley back to what he guessed might be a safe distance, he pulled at 
        the cord on the saw, it sputtered once, then roared to life. Gingerly, 
        he pressed the whirling blade to the joint at Skip's shoulder. Sparks 
        flew, followed by something yellow and gooey. Shutting the buzzsaw down, 
        Gunn removed his goggles and bent to examine his work. Wesley quickly 
        joined him. Where the arm had once been attached to the rest of Skip's 
        body, the cut was now halfway through and what passed for the demon's 
        blood was oozing from it.

        "We did it!" They both crowed in unison. They were grinning at each 
        other like idiots and were halfway through their old special handshake 
        before Gunn even realized they were doing it. He watched as recognition 
        hit Wesley too, and was warmed by the shy smile it created. Things might 
        not be back to the way they were, they might never be, but it was a 
        start.

        ~~~ the end ~~~