Title: Anger
Author: Criss Moody
Email: wyoluvr@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.crosswinds.net/~wyoluvr/CrissFic
Date: January 30th, 2001
Disclaimer: If only I owned them.
Distribution: List archives, the Dead Letters archive,
anyone else, ask.
Rating: R
Summary: Gunn dies in battle.  Set before Angel fired the
crew.
Notes: Written for Kate B's dead letters challenge.  Betaed
by the incomparable Random.  Very short.
Feedback: is the drug I crave and love.  




I'm pissed.


Straight-off, no holds barred, one-hundred percent fuck-all
angry.


'Cause I'm dead and you're...well, dead, but a whole lot more
alive than I am right now.


Wet, angry, confused about how I can be wet when I'm dead,
confused because I don't really understand what's going on,
and angry, boiling with it, because I can see you.  Right
now, I'm watching you with him.


Not angry at him, see.  He's doing what's understandable. 
He's making sure he's still alive, he's feeling the blood
course through his veins, the sweat bead on his chest, slip
between his ass-cheeks, he's screaming with how alive he
is.


That, I get.  I'm cool with that.  I'm even okay with his
choice of a fuck-buddy, though Cordy would have made me
happier.  But she wasn't here, and the dead-guy was, and I
can...be dead with that.


You.  Man, he's opening himself wide and raw to you and you
look like you're takin' a fucking stroll down the street,
pleasant and calm, no muss, no fuss, certainly no screaming
man ripping his skin for you, here, drink, I want to know
it, to feel it, just once.  On this night, you take that,
you drink, and still, your stoic face is smooth, relaxed,
as if you weren't slurping on hot, bright blood.


I died last night.  I stepped away from the swing of a
wicked looking axe one second too late and found it's blade
in my chest.  Time slowed, I crumbled to the floor, and you
kept fighting, barely noticing that Wesley and Cordelia had
rushed to my side.  Moments later, the fight over, Wesley
and Cordelia running for help, you knelt by my side,
watching me die.  That part I don't remember.  Things were
red, then they were gray, and then I was here.  I didn't
see any of me dying until I got where I am now.  Big-ass
pillars, fog puffing up from the floor, and not much else. 
I've been standing around here, watching you fuck Wesley,
watching my death, watching Cordelia hold my self-made
weapon in her hands as she sits in the lobby of the hotel.

I'm not mad that you're not grieving.  Or maybe you are and
I don't see it.  

But I'm crazy angry that you're fucking someone I love just
because you can.  


::the end::