Title: About Face (1/1)
Author: Morgan R.
Email: Lshallot@juno.com
Rating: PG
Summary: Cordelia doesn't think much of wishy-washy.
Feedback: Ease the ache within by dropping me a line
SPOILERS**That Old Gang of Mine**
Author's Note: Well, this correlation sort of hit me over the head.
Ouch. And, wow, Gunn, way to act as stupid as I've ever seen. Plus- one
minute, he wants to take Angel to Vegas for lap dances, the next, they
aren't friends? Must be a guy thing. Blah.
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"You didn't see what the big deal was."
"It just didn't seem like a priority."
"A priority?"
"It wasn't like you had a vision, Cordy!"
She closed her eyes. "I didn't used to, no."
Gunn stopped at the look on her face. "Hey-"
"Why bother wasting all the time spent hunting, though? I mean, if you want to wipe out demons, why not do it wholesale? Maybe you could design something better than a high-tech crossbow for your friends to use. Something more powerful. You know what you could call it? The Beacon, maybe! Yeah, trap some helpless nonviolent demons in a boat promising them escape and sanctuary, you think? Just demons anyway, not worth your time spent saving them, so they might as well die."
Angel's eyes had grown tired and shadowed, and he put his hand on her arm. "Cordelia, please don't-"
"I mean, if they looked different enough, why fight for them? Why would you care about someone with green skin covered with blue spines, someone with supernatural red eyes? Your friends wouldn't. They'd kill him without even thinking. Kill a servant of the Powers, no matter how many lives he's saved through his visions or his hands, right?"
Some memory was uncurling in Gunn's mind, something about the early days of the agency, before even Wesley came...
"Well, thanks for your insight. You are so damn right. Why care about what happens to demons? Why make them coffee, bring them pastries, ask them for help? Why kiss them? Why pick up the burdens they leave behind?"
"Cordelia," Angel was whispering, his eyes shut.
She whirled on him, her movements off-kilter and totally different from her usual effortless grace. "You can't keep offering to die for stupid reasons, Angel," she ordered through clenched teeth. "I can't watch another friend turn to dust."
His arm around her waist, Angel led her to the front doors. "I'm sorry. Come on, let's go watch the tape."
"Doyle's career in advertising," Cordelia laughed, a bereft scratch in her arch voice bruising any humor that might have been there otherwise.
"Well, he had an insightful director and screenwriter."
Her head fell on his shoulder. "Our rats are low..."
The doors closed behind them.
"I didn't mean- man, that's not what I-"
Wesley silenced him with a look. "Just demons, Gunn? Lowlifes, of course. Much better to trust in the beautiful, well-to-do humans who work in charming office buildings. Wolfram and Hart, perhaps?"
****
finis
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