I blame the insane personality that shares my brain with the demon for such a categorically bad idea…I’ve asked Gunn to come with me to an auction. I’m not asking for sympathy.I’ve brought all this on myself, but I do wonder if I can plead insanity if worse comes to worse? It started out as a simple enough idea. I wanted to buy something since all my stuff was blown up and I’ve got a huge, vacant hotel to decorate. I wanted nice antiques, because I like nice, old things. That’s not wrong. It’s perfectly acceptable to want to surround yourself with beautiful things. It doesn’t make me a narcissist, I’m not *conceited* I just have good taste-so sue me. We were all standing at the front desk of the hotel, our new head quarters, when I broached the subject…

~~~~~

“I was thinking about going to the auction to look for some furniture.”

“Oh yeah, cause we need even more *old things* around here,” Cordelia drawled while rolling her eyes and dusting off an old box I had found in one of the rooms. I had told her to clean it up because I thought it would look; *right* sitting on the counter-classy.

Gunn was ignoring us, reading some magazine he’d brought with him. His biceps tensed against the cotton material of his black t-shirt and each flex of his muscles caused me to freeze involuntarily and struggle for the capacity for verbalization.

“Um Gunn,” I said with no response from him. I cleared my throat and repeated myself, “Umm, Gunn. Could you go with me in case I have to move something heavy …”

“Angel, they have people who do that…” Wesley interrupted me. I fried him with a look that promised tortures that even Angelus would find distasteful and he stopped mid sentence with a look that screamed 'wounded feelings’ but of course he never pursued it.

I turned my attention back to Gunn and continued my train of thought, “There may be some lifting involved and I may need an extra set of arms. I& could pay you.”

Gunn lowered the magazine and regarded me with that distracted and slightly puzzled look that would set my pulses racing if I were still alive. Gunn doesn’t just give his time to anyone, you have to *earn it* and if you don’t, he’ll cut you down in a second. I’ve found that I’ve been trying to work for his attention- asking his opinion, trying to get him talking, anything to get him to notice me. I don’t know if it’s working.

“I want to spend my night stuck around a bunch of rich people, looking at old shit and hiring myself out as your fetch and carry boy?” He doesn’t look impressed.

“I’ll pay you,” I offered again.

“Yeah, I heard that part.”

“You can always stay here and help Wesley and I catalog our client files,” Cordelia said brightly.

I saw the mental shudder go through Gunn and I pulled some cash out of my pocket and counted it. “I’ve got $250.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s lot of people milling about at the pre viewing, a lot of competition. I open my program and turn to the pages I’ve already marked.

“I hope you know what you want,” Gunn grouses as he looks discouragingly around. “I can tell I’m gonna have limited patience in the vanilla ocean here, so you better pick quick before I *go off* “

“Okay, okay. How about this, it’s kind of pretty. Lot#3SD5: French gilt bronze regulateur with perpetual calendar and orrery after the model by Passemont Caffleir-Paris.” I point to a delicate piece that would look exquisite in the lobby of the hotel.

“You’re serious?” He questions in amazement. “It looks like some freaky alien robot with a glass head that’s giving birth to God knows what. If you; buy that, “ he throws his hands in the air and takes a step back, “I don’t know you.”

Maybe that wasn’t a good choice. “How about this? Lot# 2cca:Italian white marble figure of Egyptian dancing girl by A Sari-Rome.” “Oh see, this is better. You can never have enough naked chicks in your home as far as I’m concerned-$1500! Damn, I know where you can get one downtown for $50.”

I sigh. “I don’t think you’re getting the point Gunn. Let’s go sit down. I want to bid on a desk.” “Whatever. Just pick something out and let’s get the hell out of here.” He brushes past me, heading toward the rows of chairs. Maybe I should just confess and tell him that I asked him here just to be near him? I’m afraid to bring it all out in the open though. What if he doesn’t feel the same way towards me? What if he laughs at me? I couldn’t handle rejection when I was alive and 240 odd years haven’t changed shit in that regard. I have to be cautious. I have to go slow. I have to bide my time. Damn, I’ve always hated dating.Before, I would have just turned him and invoked the old Sire fledgling priviledge.

The auctioneer’s voice sounds loudly throughout the room, “We have lot #2DH7, a Victorian Mahogany pedestal desk with rectangular leather inset top and gilt tooling…”

“Oh my God,” I gasp out loud.

“What?” Gunn asks interest aroused.

[That Desk…it used to be mine…]

****

“Angelus.”

I look up from my reading to see William leaning against the doorway. My patience is at a low point this evening. Darla’s been in a snit for the last week and the self-imposed celibacy does not sit well with me. “What do you want boy?” I don’t bother to keep the irritation out of my tone.

“Bored.” He smiles that decadent grin that hints at blood and cum and grunts of exertion forced from teeth clenched in agony and pleasure. William would fuck anything at anytime. That’s one of the things I’ve grown to love about him.

“Where’s Dru,” I ask, not really caring in the least.

He shrugs. “She kidnapped the vicar-acting out the bloody midnight mass for all I know. Miss Edith’s upset. The wind doesn’t *smell* right or some fucking nonsense like that. Can I come in?”

“It’s never stopped you before.”

And still that grin as he crosses the threshold and kicks the door shut behind him with his boot. “Where’s the Bitch Queen tonight.”

“Watch it you little shit, or I’ll rip that smart ass tongue of yours out and feed it to you,” I growl.

“Well, that’s certainly a way to pass the time.” He walks around the massive; mahogany piece of furniture that separates me from the exit and sits down on the rum colored leather surface, facing me.

This room always makes me feel like I’m sitting on a throne, like I’m some monarch surveying my kingdom. But unfortunately, none of my subjects seem to be very obedient lately. I’m getting ignored and mocked at every turn it seems and I may have to put a stop to it -starting tonight.

“What do you want William, run out of money again?” I ask in my most indifferent tone

He stiffens slightly as he balances precariously on the edge of his seat. His eyes flash in anger. It’s not a new sight; his temper flares an average of five times a day-seven on weekends. “Why do you always do that!”

“Do what?” I settle back patronizingly in my chair. “Talk to me like I’m some whore,” he spits out in the exquisite fire of youthful indignation.

“I don’t know Will, why do I do that?” I ask with mock seriousness.

“Because you’re an asshole!” he explodes, jumping off of his perch and heading towards the door.

I’m out of the chair in an instant, pinning him against the desk in front of me. “You didn’t come here to tell me what you think of me did you? That was unnecessary my boy, there’s not a thought in that head of yours that I don’t know about, that I didn’t put there. Tell_me_what_you_want!”

He’s refusing to look at me and I grab him by the hair and turn his head so I can see his eyes. Just as I thought-there’s the longing and need that I feel too. I’m just better at hiding it. “Tell me Will,” I warn softly, withholding his reward until he conforms to my rules.

“I want you to fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. Resentment touches every muscle of his body. He hates to beg, but he will if forced.

“I don’t think I heard you.” His eyes travel down, then soften as they rise again. He leans forward and touches his lips to mine. It’s not a literal adherence to the rules, but his intent is clear. “I miss you Angelus, let’s not waste our time fighting, huh?”

He always was a smart boy. I lean him back against the desktop…

****

“I have $1200, do I hear $1500?”

“$1500.”

They’re selling my desk; they can’t do that. I need it. It’s my only link to a time when I was in charge. When I didn’t live in isolation and celibacy-in servitude to the karmic law of the powers that be. My word was law and no one questioned my authority or refused me .”I’ve gotta have that desk Gunn. $5000!”

“You’re crazy right?” Gunn states the obvious.

He’s not the only one; several others turn to look at me-including the last bidder who is three rows in front of us. The man opens his mouth as if to match my offer and I glare at him.

“If you buy this, can we go?” Gunn asks.

“Yes, but I *need* this desk Gunn."

He stands up. “Sell him the God Damned desk,” he warns loudly and looks over at my competition. The man puts his paddle down.

“Um, sold-for $5,000,” the auctioneer offers hesitantly. No one argues.

“Load it in the damn truck,” Gunn grumbles as he turns to head outside.

This desk is going to help me get my confidence back. It’ll help me win Gunn-you’ll see. “Thanks Gunn,” I say, placing my hand on his arm to delay him. “You’re not mad that you wasted your night coming here are you?”

He turns around. “Mad-No.Bored.”

I have a good feeling about this already.