She was dressed in a flowing white robe, blending into her surroundings. She avoided thinking the word angel, since that brought more bad than good thoughts, but if mortal senses could understand heaven, she thought it would be something like this. Energy rippled over light and air, humming color into every atom of her being. Bliss was solid and came in different shapes and textures. Everything was connected but retained individuality.
"This makes me demony?" was her first question. Followed closely by "Doyle?" She was alone.
Alone in the traditional, mortal, earthly sense. She could never truly be alone here, and she almost thought she could taste a presence suffusing her. Speaking to her--through her.
DEMON HAS SUCH A NEGATIVE CONNOTATION, BEAUTIFUL ONE. YOU ARE BECOMING MORE THAN YOU WERE. SPECIAL, TO BEAR THE MIRACLES WHICH ARE THE VISIONS. A TIME OF DARKNESS LIES AHEAD, AND YOUR SIGHT WILL BE MOST IMPORTANT IN MAINTAINING THE LIGHT. YOU ARE BRAVE AND KNOW RIGHT FROM WRONG.
"More than I can say for some vampires," Cordelia muttered.
I CANNOT KEEP YOU HERE LONG, THERE IS MUCH YET TO DO. YOU MUST KEEP THE OTHERS ON THE TRUE PATH IF LIFE IS TO CONTINUE AS YOU KNOW IT. THE DARKNESS WILL DRAW NEAR WHEN THE WITCH COMES.
"Cryptic much? How about these supposedly Higher Powers give more than a shot in the dark for once? I mean, can't we do without prophecies once in a while? Mix it up? Eternity's got to be kind of boring if you keep repeating yourself."
IT OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE THAT YOU DO NOT LET THE BEAST COMPLETE ITS GOALS. ALREADY IT STALKS ANOTHER WARRIOR OF GOOD. IF SHE FALLS, YOU WILL BE THE LIGHT'S LAST HOPE.
Apparently her outburst didn't merit an answer. Might as well get what she could during her visit, then. "Wait, what beast, who said anything about a beast? Could you
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draw a picture?" She was back in the Hyperion. "Well that sucks big-"
"Cordela, you're all right!" Wesley rushed her and enveloped her into a hug.
When she could breathe she pushed him away and stared at him as if he'd grown a second nose. "Hello? Gone several minutes to floaty-world? Not the biggest reason to impersonate a corset." Then she noticed Doyle's bloody face as he lay on the ground. My god, Doyle! Was there an attack while I was gone?"
The half-demon spat out blood and wobbled to his feet. "In the form of the English. Er, one Englishman to be exact."
"Wesley!" She slapped the man still hovering on the shoulder and moved to Doyle's side. "How long before you treat him with a little dignity? He came back from the grave for us."
"Yes, well, for a moment I believed he had traded his place in death with you." Wesley adjusted his glasses and pointed to a pile of ash on the floor. "You were gone for several minutes at the same moment that appeared."
Doyle scratched his head. "There are always side effects. Least this one was a house-cleaning issue and not a life or death one." His look of superiority was spoiled by the rumpled coat and hair. More rumpled than normal, Cordelia amended to herself as she glanced over him for serious injury.
Satisfied things hadn't gone completely to hell in her absence, she sat and tried to recount what had happened to her, only to draw a blank. She remembered the sensation of being in that other place, whether heaven or some other dimension, but the details became hazy.
"There was something about a beast...but I don't remember. And mention of coming darkness."
"So nothing new, then?" Doyle smirked.
"Hey, mister, you're the one who gave me the bad trip to cloudville and I didn't even get a t-shirt for my effort. Think you can be a little more helpful?"
Any response was cut short as a vision slammed into her mind. Except it wasn't like her previous visions. There was no pain, no reliving of the scene playing in her mind. She was a spectator with not just full surround sound but surround all-other-senses, and she saw everything clearer than her own memories. When the vision ended, she knew that she could reference any moment of what she saw at any point, like it had just happened to her seconds earlier.
"Well that's cool." She doubled checked her body for horns and a tail. Nope, nothing demony about her, save the new and improved visions. "Oh yeah, definitely cool."
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Darla glared at the people above her. Even vampiric strength wasn't enough to break her chains, so she had to be content in projecting violence through her stare. Angel had seen enough of those looks in the past to be immune, but the green demon and the girl who smelled like a demon flinched.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't owe Angelus a favor or two from the old days. I just want everyone to be clear on that." The girl babbled away and Darla realized that they had met before, decades ago in Vienna.
So Angel was calling in old debts, from a vengeance demon no less, for her sake? She would be touched if not for the burning hatred she directed at her former lover. And she said as much, in a way that used most of the curses she had learned over her long life and several necessity had invented for her on the spot.
The vengeance demon's complexion started to match her companion's. "Vampires are never good news. Why, when I heard William the Bloody and Drusilla had reunited in Sunnydale I knew there was no chance I'd go back there, even if it is where I lost my powers. This only proves my point. My neck is already feeling itchy from all the less-than-subtle looks."
Both Darla and Angel started at this information. "Spike's in Sunnydale? With Dru?"
Anya nodded worriedly, afraid she had said too much. She babbled, "Yes, apparently he was an involuntary guest of several beefy soldiers who do nasty experiments on demon kind. And his physical contact buddy breaks him out and goes on some good old fashioned rampaging for some time. I almost wish I had been there to see it, except for the part where I would have been part of the rampagees. Honestly, I know I have nothing to do these days, but does no one keep up with the demon world news anymore?" She paused and thought aloud, "I wonder if people would pay for a zine."
Angel ignored this and turned to Darla. "I will make Dru pay for this," he swore. "As soon as this is over."
The worst part of Angel over Angelus was his deluded sense of honor. That and the overblown speeches. "Save it. Nothing you say will make me appreciate the sickness you're going to give me. Why don't you just start a club, every pathetic vampire in town can bring their own Orb and participate in the self-flagelation."
"Any chance of gagging her until this is over?" the green demon asked. "Not that I'm not enjoying the creative use of curses, but her aura is giving me a headache. It's enough to send me to drink before noon."
"Anya, Lorne, start the ritual. I'll keep an eye on her." Angel dared to stroke her hair and was nearly rewarded with one less finger.
"Sure thing, we'll do the major mojo while you kick back. Remind me never to do favors for you again."
"You'd think with a soul he would provide compensation. At least we would have seen Angelus in leather pants before being eviscerated."
"I'm with you on that, honey bun."
From her vantage, Darla could only hear the demons as they moved around the room, but soon enough she could feel the static of magic filling the air and fought her bonds with renewed desperation. Static turned to electricity as chanting began, and Darla locked her eyes to Angel's. In all the centuries she had lived- in a fashion- she had never begged for anything, not even her life. But now she was to be subjected to a fate worse than death; she had experienced death several times now and feared it no more than sunlight. But to go on, as a sick thing like her child, twisted between human and demon...She pleaded for release, for death, for anything if the ritual would stop, whispers to the other vampire, whispers which fell on deaf ears.
All he would say was "You will understand when it's done."
There was a flash-boom, then the memories flooded in and she began to scream.
