Seven Virtues--AtS
Angel--faith
It was a joke. And not a very funny one. Angel didn’t feel like laughing. Not even an ironic chuckle. Everybody else laughed. Everybody else was highly amused. And why shouldn’t they? They didn’t believe in it with all their heart. They didn’t look forward to it. They didn’t need it.
“We never had any real proof anyway,” Wes explained gently.
Angel understood that. Nobody had any proof of anything, really. But everybody believed in something. Everybody had faith. They didn’t need knowledge, and now Angel had knowledge, and he wished he never knew. There was no redemption. For anybody.
Wes--Hope
There was a bitter taste in Wes’s mouth every morning when he woke up. Lilah would already be gone. He would give Justine a rag to clean herself and she’d look at him with daggers and the most he could do was laugh. They’d go out on the boat and every time the sonar picked something up, his heart jumped to his throat. They’d find Angel sooner or later. And Angel would be grateful and forgive him and all would be well. Or Angel would tear his throat out in rage and hunger. Either way, Angel was his final hope.
Fred--Charity
Her mother taught her about charity, and Fred absolutely believed charity began at home. She went out of her way to be nice, giving, considerate, and loving to the people around her. It wasn’t a burden at all, and she didn’t begrudge anybody her time. But charity wasn’t the same for everybody, and love could mean pain. Connor was out of control. Connor could hurt himself or her or Gunn or Lorne. Connor could go after Angel. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind, and she winced when she shot him with enough volts to kill an elephant.
Angel--Justice
They spoke of justice as if it were more than some high, strange ideal. They spoke of justice as though it existed in the world. How could there be justice when nobody was held accountable? And how could there be justice when nobody was forgiven? And how could there be justice when the only language that spoke louder than pain was anger? Angel asked himself this every time he saw Connor-an adult years too soon with the guilt and pain of an old man who had seen too many battles. How can there be justice without a second chance?
Gunn--Prudence
Gunn jumped into the fray without thought or joy. It was a job, like any other night. He didn’t stop to measure the size of the demon or their numbers or consider their weapons. It was like old times, before Angel, when he was just a kid fighting the good fight for the sake of his family and friends. It never occurred to him that the strength and fire he relied on before would be gone. It never occurred to him that the acquired knowledge would come with a high price. Not until after the blood poured from his neck.
Lorne--Fortitude
Lorne never actively wanted to fight evil. He didn’t like evil. Evil was bad. Worse than Angel’s rendition of Mandy. He was very much against evil. But it wasn’t his job to go out and fight. It wasn’t his calling to wield swords and axes, and it wasn’t his destiny to stop apocalypse after apocalypse. He wanted to sing, and enjoy a good drink, and try to stop the next suicide that sang for him. He didn’t mind being the damsel, but he would never rescue her. Lorne never considered himself a hero. Not even when he saved the day.
Angel--Temperance
The world looks different when you have millions of dollars at your fingertip. Cars become really important. The number, the models, the colors. Imported blood tasted better than the stuff from the butcher’s around the corner, and silk felt so fine. The helicopter was sweet, but the private jet was better. Angel could afford to be good to his friends, and they appreciated his kindness.. He didn’t mind sharing the wealth with Spike. He wasn’t greedy, and there was more than enough to go around. Every week there was something beautiful to buy, and every night something beautiful to see.
It was a joke. And not a very funny one. Angel didn’t feel like laughing. Not even an ironic chuckle. Everybody else laughed. Everybody else was highly amused. And why shouldn’t they? They didn’t believe in it with all their heart. They didn’t look forward to it. They didn’t need it.
“We never had any real proof anyway,” Wes explained gently.
Angel understood that. Nobody had any proof of anything, really. But everybody believed in something. Everybody had faith. They didn’t need knowledge, and now Angel had knowledge, and he wished he never knew. There was no redemption. For anybody.
Wes--Hope
There was a bitter taste in Wes’s mouth every morning when he woke up. Lilah would already be gone. He would give Justine a rag to clean herself and she’d look at him with daggers and the most he could do was laugh. They’d go out on the boat and every time the sonar picked something up, his heart jumped to his throat. They’d find Angel sooner or later. And Angel would be grateful and forgive him and all would be well. Or Angel would tear his throat out in rage and hunger. Either way, Angel was his final hope.
Fred--Charity
Her mother taught her about charity, and Fred absolutely believed charity began at home. She went out of her way to be nice, giving, considerate, and loving to the people around her. It wasn’t a burden at all, and she didn’t begrudge anybody her time. But charity wasn’t the same for everybody, and love could mean pain. Connor was out of control. Connor could hurt himself or her or Gunn or Lorne. Connor could go after Angel. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind, and she winced when she shot him with enough volts to kill an elephant.
Angel--Justice
They spoke of justice as if it were more than some high, strange ideal. They spoke of justice as though it existed in the world. How could there be justice when nobody was held accountable? And how could there be justice when nobody was forgiven? And how could there be justice when the only language that spoke louder than pain was anger? Angel asked himself this every time he saw Connor-an adult years too soon with the guilt and pain of an old man who had seen too many battles. How can there be justice without a second chance?
Gunn--Prudence
Gunn jumped into the fray without thought or joy. It was a job, like any other night. He didn’t stop to measure the size of the demon or their numbers or consider their weapons. It was like old times, before Angel, when he was just a kid fighting the good fight for the sake of his family and friends. It never occurred to him that the strength and fire he relied on before would be gone. It never occurred to him that the acquired knowledge would come with a high price. Not until after the blood poured from his neck.
Lorne--Fortitude
Lorne never actively wanted to fight evil. He didn’t like evil. Evil was bad. Worse than Angel’s rendition of Mandy. He was very much against evil. But it wasn’t his job to go out and fight. It wasn’t his calling to wield swords and axes, and it wasn’t his destiny to stop apocalypse after apocalypse. He wanted to sing, and enjoy a good drink, and try to stop the next suicide that sang for him. He didn’t mind being the damsel, but he would never rescue her. Lorne never considered himself a hero. Not even when he saved the day.
Angel--Temperance
The world looks different when you have millions of dollars at your fingertip. Cars become really important. The number, the models, the colors. Imported blood tasted better than the stuff from the butcher’s around the corner, and silk felt so fine. The helicopter was sweet, but the private jet was better. Angel could afford to be good to his friends, and they appreciated his kindness.. He didn’t mind sharing the wealth with Spike. He wasn’t greedy, and there was more than enough to go around. Every week there was something beautiful to buy, and every night something beautiful to see.