mimesere

mf au-age. I think. The battle for Los Angeles (well, kind of)

*

Wesley puts their people on the top of buildings and arms them the best he can with crossbows and regular bows, bricks and rocks and whatever else he can scavenge. Gunn is out there on the edges of downtown, with his old gang and Faith, and the best weaponry Wesley could find. They're going to make sure everyone gets out when the line falls. Wesley doesn't really expect to see most of them again.

"Do these things even work?" Faith says tinnily into his ear. "Fisher, this is Lolita, over."

"They're not *toys*," he says into the radio. "This isn't a game."

"You're supposed to say over when you're done. So I know you're done."

"Over," Wesley says dryly. "Faith, give the radio to Gunn."

"I had to pry it away from his cold dead fingers," she says and laughs. Gallows humor to the end, and Wesley shouldn't smile even if she's not there to see. It's not even particularly funny.

"Gunn?"

"Yeah." A click and a long pause, and then Gunn's heavy sigh. "Over."

"How does it look there?"

"Peaceful as a riot on a hot summer night."

"Ah."

"I can get a stereo, I think, but only if I go now."

Wesley looks down at the map in front of him. "We can't lose too much, Gunn."

"I know. Better than you." Gunn sighs again. "You sure these things are gonna work on the vamps?"

"The guns?" asks Wesley.

"Yeah."

"No. But if they don't work, the guns are quite heavy and should bludgeon nicely."

"Have I mentioned how comforting you're not?"

"Oh, not in the past hour or so."

"You're not comforting."

"You'd mock me if I were."

"I mock you anyway."

"Don't die," says Wesley quietly. "Either of you."

"Over," says Gunn, and the radio goes quiet.