Spinning.  Everything was spinning out of control, threatening to take her back down into the blank recess of unconsciousness.  Fighting the urge to give in to the swirling vortex that pulled so strongly at her, Cordelia slowly pried her eyelids open, shutting them again quickly when the room spun more wildly.  Waiting for the roller coaster ride her head seemed to be on to pull into the station, she pressed the heels of her hands hard against her eyes. 

She needed to get up, to find Angel and warn him about the vision.  If she didn't… well, she refused to consider the consequences if she stayed in bed and gave into the weakness the vision backlash had thrust upon her.  She was Queen C, at least she had been at one time, she was the original Sunnydale bitch, no one got between her and what she wanted.  And what she wanted most was to get to Angel and keep him alive, or at least keep him from becoming any more dead than he already was.

Struggling to free her limbs from the tangled confines of Angel's sheets, she tugged and pulled until cool air at last chilled her bare legs.  Knowing that if she paused even for a minute she'd never manage to rise from the bed, she willed her legs to slide off the mattress, her soles making contact once again with the frigid floor.

Looking down at herself with bleary eyes, the question of where her clothes might be flitted across her thoughts only to be displaced by her anxiety over Angel's safety.  Whoever had put her into one of Angel's shirts would be reamed out later, when she could garner enough emotion to care, at present she was grateful for the longer hemline as it brushed against her mid thigh once she finally pushed herself into a somewhat standing position.

The distance between the bed and the door stretched into a mile as she painstakingly shuffled across the gleaming floor, her toes growing thoroughly icy on the chilly tiles.  Her head still spun about madly but her determination was enough to push aside any amount of vertigo.

An odd thought danced through her thoughts, it was as if someone had pulled aside a curtain and she was able to see things clearly for the first time in a very long time. 

She would miss him.

~~~

Lorne straightened his jacket lapel and sniffed at the pleasant floral arrangement he carried.  Only the most exotic flowers would do for the former Pylean princess.  Following the stairs up to the front entrance of the Hyperion, he glanced through the glass of the door before opening it.  He could see Wesley and Gunn seated at the table, but there was no sign of Cordelia.

He pushed open the door, clearing his throat to alert the pair of demon hunters to his presence.  Friend or not, he wasn't going to sneak up on two men who were as worried and preoccupied as those two were… especially given the large number of weapons they had so close to hand.

"Lorne," Wesley greeted.  "How can we help…"

"No Drokken tonight, but I thought I'd swing by, pay my respects to the little lady and see how that head of hers is."  He held up the flowers, gesturing toward the bedroom.

"Ah yes, Cordelia's resting at the moment.  Here, I'll put the flowers in some water for her."  Wesley rose and approached Lorne, retrieving the bouquet.  "I'm sure she will find them to be quite lovely."

Lorne watched as Wesley retreated into the kitchen area with the arrangement.  Although Gunn had at first appeared to be hard at work, he could now tell that the young man had fallen asleep at the table.  "Long research session, I see."

"We're trying to locate something to assist Cordelia," was Wesley's reply from the far end of the room.

"No luck, I take it.  The auras in this room alone could put a few dozen Haxil beasts out of their misery in a flash."

"Not as of yet, but we do hold out hope."

"Yeah, Angel-cakes stopped by earlier.  I suppose he's gone off to be the lone crusader again?"  Lorne ran his hand across one of the books on the table.  "I tried to warn him."

"About what?"

The sound of Cordelia's voice woke Gunn from his slumber and brought Wesley back into the foyer.  Her voice was raw and drawn and she stood unsteadily with one hand fixed against the wall.

"Sugar, you need to get back in that bed of his and try to sleep some of this off."

She waved away Lorne's suggestion, repeating her demand.  "Warn him about what?"

"You know how the readings go, honey.  If I start breaking the rules and tell you things about Angel-cakes' reading, then I'll have to bend the rules for everyone," Lorne offered.

"Nuh huh," she mumbled, stumbling further into the room.  "Tell me or I'll go find him myself."

"Like you were planning to sit around here anyway?  Come on now, sugar, you know you can't do him any good like you are now.  Why don't you be a good girl and go lie down?"  His red-eyed gaze did nothing to convince her to listen to his suggestion, nor did he expect it to.

"I have to tell him…"

Seeing her begin to crumple to the floor, all three men ran to her side, preventing her from hurting herself anymore than she had already.

She ignored Lorne's raised brow and inferred 'I told you so' demeanor.  "I have to find him.  It's important."

"Cordelia," Wesley pleaded, "please, you really must rest."

"No!"  She pushed herself away from the men, standing up again on her own.  "I need a pair of jeans and a ride to wherever it is Angel went.  I can't let him…  I have to warn him, Wesley.  Please, help me."

Wesley watched her, aware that everyone else in the room was waiting for his expected denial.  But what he witnessed in her eyes wouldn't let the words he knew he needed to say come forth.  "Alright," he whispered, "alright."

Gunn, his eyes round with disbelief, looked from Cordelia to Wesley and back again.  She was in no condition to make a trek to the bathroom, much less to wherever Angel had gone.  "Wes-man…"

"It's Cordelia's decision, Gunn."  Wesley answered, cutting off any comment the darker man might have offered.  Wesley's own unease about the situation was egging him on to move Cordelia back to the relative safety of the bed, bodily if need be, but something wouldn't let him follow through with that base instinct.  Something in his head told him that Cordelia was right, that she needed to do this herself.

Snorting, Gunn shook his head and watched Wes retrieve the overnight bag they had brought back from her apartment.  On some level, he understood Wesley's actions even if he didn't condone them.

~~~

Sighing, the aged lady sagged heavily against her cushions.  Memory was a funny thing; it colored your perceptions and softened the edges of the past.  The fear, the terror and concern, they were all still present in her remembrances but somehow they didn't seem as sharp and cutting as they had then, they weren't nearly as desperate.  Of course she knew what the outcome was to be so perhaps that took away that jagged edge of desperation and pain.

How was it that any of them had endured that night?  Looking back on it, none of them ought to have been able to walk away in one piece.

She was so tired, so terribly exhausted.  She had waited nearly a lifetime to pas along this tale, and the telling of it had almost come too late.

~~~

Wesley and Lorne assisted Cordelia to Angel's car, Gunn trailing behind, still not pleased with the turn of events.  As they tried to make Cordelia as comfortable as possible, Wesley tried one last time to convince her to find another way to relay her vision to Angel.

"Cordelia, what if you were to tell us what you saw?  Then we could locate Angel and relate…"

"No, it has to come from me.  I have to be the one to tell him.  He won't listen to you or Gunn.  He didn't even listen to Lorne…" her voice faded as her eyes fluttered closed.

"This has bad vibes written all over it," Lorne groaned, climbing in next to the unconscious seer.

"I agree, but we must try to help her do what she thinks is best."

Gunn looked Wesley in the eye.  "Even if it means Cordelia gettin' hurt worse than she is now?"

Closing his eyes briefly, Wesley replied, "Yes, even then."

The drive was short, the streets nearly deserted so late at night.  The intersection of Holtz and Seventh streets arose from the darkness like a bad omen, chilling them to the core.  As the car pulled up to the curb, Cordelia roused, her slitted eyes taking in their location.

"Can you see him?"

Wesley glanced around the barren streets.  "No.  Perhaps he has already…"

"No, not yet.  He'll be here soon though."

"I can't believe we're doin' this," Gunn stated, staring into the inky darkness.

"Why are we doing this?" Lorne asked.  "I mean, I'm all for warm fuzzies from fulfilling destiny and following the good aura jibe, but this can't be good," he glanced down at Cordelia's pale face, "or healthy.  Princess, you look like a walking, well, an almost walking advertisement for death.  Maybe a nap would…"

"There he is," she whispered.

A dark form emerged from the deep shadows of the far buildings, his coat billowing behind him in the strengthening wind, his face set in serious planes and lines.  The one thing he hadn't expected to find when he reached the corner of Holtz and Seventh was his own car waiting for him.