A/N: Thanx ever so muchly for the positive reviews. The next couple of chapters rely fairly heavily on the Angel shooting scripts (some of the dialogue is taken verbatim), but I need it to set up the AU stuff so hang in there. They're also very Angel/Cordy oriented with just a pinch of Buffy/Spike (to taste). Lots more to come, though, lots.

(If you'd like more background on Buffy and Spike's link, check out the prequel fic 'Shades Of Grey' right here on ff.net. Go on, you know you want to!)

~*[+]*~
EPISODE THREE
Of Portals and Prophecies

"Hi guys!"

"Cordelia?" Wesley sounded utterly bewildered. Angel knew how he felt.

She nodded, smiling. "Uh-huh."

"You're..." Angel's voice was oddly harsh, even to his own ears. "You're safe."

"L'il bit," Cordy straightened the golden tiara that was perched on her head. "They made me ruler."

"This is fantastic!" Wes gushed, finally regaining his equilibrium.

"Well," Cordy said. "It's not like my throne couldn't use a few extra cushions, but I'm not really gonna complain, because, well ... throne."

Angel gaped as she did a royal wave to an imaginary crowd. He hadn't seen her act this way since Sunnydale. Queen C had made a spectacular return to form.

"Cordelia?" Wesley was attempting to regain her attention. "Cordelia!" She finally looked at him. "You could order them to release us!"

"Yes, I really could."

For some inexplicable reason she seemed annoyed with them. Was she punishing them for something?

The overweight Constable spoke up. "Shall we gut the cows now, that you might dine on their ignoble flesh, oh Most High?"

Cordy pulled a disgusted face. "Ew! You're most high if you think that's gonna happen. Besides, shouldn't there really be some extended groveling first?"

Angel couldn't move. He couldn't feel his body. He felt like everything had been stripped away, leaving only his heart behind - raw and exposed and open. Open to Cordelia.

And she couldn't see it.

She was sitting there, on a throne of all things, dressed in the finest silks, looking more beautiful than anyone had a right to, and she was playing with them.

"Cordelia," he growled. He suddenly felt really impatient with her. Why can't you see it, Cordy?

She frowned at him, recognizing the clipped tone. "O-Kay..." She paused for a moment, then commanded "Off with their heads!"

The now-recovered guards moved forward threateningly.

"Kidding!" Cordelia's wide grin was impish. "Let 'em go."

The guards hesitated for a moment, confused, then did as she ordered.

The Constable fidgeted. "Your Majesty, I must protest. To allow dangerous prisoners to roam freely in your presence..."

Cordelia pinned him with a superior look. "You're going to make me use my important voice aren't you?" She cleared her throat. "Leave us!"

The Constable frowned, but obeyed, reluctantly taking his guards and exiting the throne room.

There was a lull during their exit, but when the doors closed behind them Cordy delightedly extended her arms in a more exuberant greeting. "Hey!"

Wesley and the Host ignored her, hurriedly moving past to attack a platter of fruit like starving men.

"Thank God we found you," Wesley mumbled around a mouthful of food. "We were so worried."

Angel slowly got to his feet, using the sword for leverage, and moved forward. He felt like he was in dream - a state of shock maybe?

Cordelia stared at him as he approached. Her dark eyes were wide and uncertain, flicking across his features as though she was trying to work out if he was real.

"What happened?" he asked. His fingers were twitching. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but couldn't allow himself that luxury.

"What's it look like?" she huffed, her royal persona dropping sharply back into place. "They jabbed me with hot pokers for a while, then made me a princess."

Wesley wandered back to join them, a half-eaten fruity-type thing in his hand. "But that doesn't make sense, does it? In a world where humans are slaves, why would they elevate one to monarch?"

The Host turned around from stuffing his pockets with tid-bits. "You had a vision, didn'tcha puddin'?"

Cordelia turned her back on Angel to arch her eyebrow at Lorne. "Yeah. And can I just say, visions? Not gettin' any easier. I'm still kinda vibrating." She did an enticing little shimmy that caught Angel's eye - How'd she do that? - Then turned back, almost catching him in mid-ogle. "That could be from the hot pokers, though."

Angel blinked at her. Was she deliberately being kinky?

"See there," Lorne piped up. "She had a vision. That explains it." When they looked at him uncomprehendingly, he shook his head. "Well, see, there's this prophecy..."

"A prophecy," Angel repeated. "Great. 'Cause those always go well." He rolled his eyes. Like he needed more prophecies to deal with.

"It's a local myth, not exactly kosher with the Priests that've been running this place for the last several millennia. The Covenant of the Trombli? Humorless bunch. Anyway there's talk of an impending Golden Age, the first sign of which is the Cursed One - a being with the Pure Sight who will one day claim the throne and set events in motion."

Wesley frowned. "When you say 'Pure Sight'-?"

"I mean a direct link to the Powers That Be." Lorne wagged his finger at Cordy. "I mean her."

"So these Trombli believe that Cordelia is this mythical Cursed One," Wesley mused. "And made her princess to bring about this Golden Age." He smiled. "And so long as they believe that, we might actually stand a chance of surviving this place until we can find a way out."

"Find a way out?" Cordelia dropped inelegantly onto her throne, casually throwing one leg over the arm. "How'd you get in?"

Angel stared at the exposed limb. It was long and tan and ... did he mention long? Cordy's legs went on forever. He shifted uneasily and then moved away. He shouldn't be thinking about this stuff, couldn't be thinking about this stuff.

"We got in the same way you did," Wesley explained. "By opening a portal with the book." He took another bit of his piece of fruit. "But we seem to have misplaced it."

"The portal or the book?" Cordy straightened up, suddenly realizing that she was giving the guys an eyeful. Angel had walked away from her - did that mean he thought she was disgusting?

"Both," Wesley answered.

"Oh. Well, I don't know about portals, but they've got books here. Those Trombone Priest guys used some when they swore me in."

"I'd like to see those." Wesley tossed the remaining fruit-core into a nearby ceremonial bowl.

"In kind of a hurry to get back to the Cordelia's-not-a-princess dimension aren'tcha?" Cordy wrinkled her nose at him like he was a horrid little bug.

"Even if we do find an appropriate book, we still need to locate another inter-dimensional hotspot." Wesley babbled, not paying her any mind. He glanced about, searching for something. "Angel-?"

They all turned to where the vampire was standing. He was in front of a full-length mirror, peering intently at his reflection. He put a hand up to touch his image in the glass and smiled. Not bad for a guy who'd had a bicentennial.

Cordy's eyes almost bugged from her head. "Oh my God! He's reflecting!" She bolted from the throne and dashed to his side, fascinated.

Wesley sighed. Not this again. "Yes, the metaphysical laws that govern our world don't seem to apply here. He can also walk in the sun."

She beamed. "Really?" Hey, that was great. Maybe he'd get a tan.

"It's not that big a deal," Angel murmured, he cast an almost shy glance over his shoulder at her. "Spike does it all the time."

"Spike?" Cordelia's face dropped. "Did you just say Spike? As in, have-a-boatload-of-torture-compliments-of-me Spike?"

"That would be he," Wesley confirmed. "Although there have apparently been several developments that Angel neglected to inform us of."

"They're not really..." Angel began. He was cut off when Cordelia grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the others. He cast a longing look at his reflection as he went, then got distracted by the fact that she was touching him.

"I thought you'd stopped with the hiding of the big secrety stuff," Cordy hissed in undertone. She looked almost apprehensive, like she was scared of him. "I thought we were past that."

"I never..." Angel blinked. "Secrety stuff?"

"What didn't you tell us about Spike?" Cordelia folded her arms. She wasn't going to take his broody silence for an answer this time.

Angel sighed. "Spike is with Buffy now. They're ordained."

"With Buffy? With with? As in, they're a couple with?" Now Cordelia was completely lost. "Why would Buffy-? I mean, I know she has this thing for vamps, but at least you had a soul. Spike's as evil as they come."

"He's not," Angel asserted, a bizarre urge to defend his absent Childe springing to life. "He never was."

"Okay, your explainy technique? Not so explainy." Cordelia began tapping her foot impatiently.

Angel smiled softly at the action. "It's really long and involved," he said. "But basically, Spike always had part of his soul. Then he got a chip in his head that stopped him hurting people. He got linked to Buffy. She completed him, and now he's almost human."

"Linked?" Cordelia licked her lips, thinking. Angel followed the movement avidly. "Is that connected to the whole 'ordained' bit."

"Uh-huh." Angel stared at her mouth, willing her to do that thing with her tongue again. "The Powers That Be matched them as equals."

"Nice," Cordelia grimaced. "So Spike's a good guy now? That's gonna take some getting used to."

"You'd be getting used to it already if he and Buffy hadn't bailed on us." Angel stuffed his hands into his pockets, the need to touch her was almost overwhelming him now. She was so close. He hunched his shoulders, trying to reel himself in.

"They're here? In Pylea?"

"Larger than life," Lorne declared, ambling over. "And twice the fun."

"If you say so," Cordelia didn't look convinced.

Wesley joined them, his mind still on the business side of things. "While we search here for the proper incantations, it might save us some time later if you hit the streets, see if you can document any portal activity..."

"Or locate Buffy and Spike." Angel didn't take his eyes off Cordelia. He was suddenly afraid that if he did, she'd disappear again.

"Yes, that too," Wesley nodded. "But more importantly, go with the Host. Track down his cousin Landok. Speak to his family, find out if..."

"Ho, ho, ho! Back up!" Lorne gaped at the former Watcher. "You want me to talk to my family? On purpose?"

"It's that, or face the possibility of never getting back to our dimension."

Lorne's mouth stayed open as he processed that statement, and then snapped shut with an audible click. "Fine. Whatever." He took Angel's arm and towed him away. "Come on, Lover-boy."

Cordelia frowned after them. Lover-boy? Angel? She was so not seeing the connection. Sometimes that Host guy was just plain weird.

~*[+]*~

Spike had no idea where they were going. He really didn't care. As far as he was concerned, Buffy was in charge of this little hike in the woods and he was just along for the ride.

"I think we're lost," she said suddenly, coming to a halt in a small clearing.

"Well, seein' as we had no bloody idea where we were goin' in the first place, I'd say that's pretty much an understatement, pet."

She sent him a withering glance. "We need to find somewhere secluded, away from the village of rampagy demons, while we try and figure out a rescue plan."

"Logic," Spike muttered. And feminine logic at that. What ever happened to working on good old gut instinct?

"I heard that, honey," Buffy said distractedly. She stared at a rock formation, her head tipped slightly to one side. "What does that look like to you?"

"Looks like a couple o' big rocks," Spike observed. He grinned. "What do I win? Are we gonna play I-spy next? 'Cause that's my favorite."

Buffy ignored him and moved away. "I think it's a cave."

"Really? Hey, neat!" Spike trotted after her. "Are we on for a spot of spelunking?"

"Huh?" Buffy scowled at him searchingly. After a moment she tapped into the appropriate thought channel. "Oh, cave exploration." She shook her head. "Who invents ridiculous words like that?"

Spike shrugged. "Some twisted nonce with nothin' better to do, I expect."

"Hmm." Buffy reached the rock formation and peered into an opening. It was definitely a cave. "And we have a winner," she announced.

"So what? We just gonna hole up here for a bit?"

She nodded. "That's the plan."

They moved inside. It was fairly spacious - a large, well-lit grotto with a high, domed ceiling. There was a pool of water at the center with a makeshift bed nearby. Odds and ends were scattered about in a homey way.

Spike squinted around at the walls. "Looks like it's already occupied by the local graffiti artist," he remarked.

Buffy moved closer to the stone perimeter and narrowed her eyes. "Krvl sqrn," she recited slowly. "Brzl flvnstz svnplt."

Spike's lips curled with distaste. "That's portal mumbo-jumbo," he said. "No mistakin' those dulcet tones."

Buffy slapped a hand over her mouth. "You don't think I just opened one and sucked some other poor shmo here?"

Spike quirked his eyebrow. "Shmo?"

"You know what I mean."

"That I do," he nodded, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "I think you're safe. Reckon you need to be near one of those hot-spot deals."

"Oh. Right." Buffy put her hands on her hips and surveyed the cavern. "Whoever owns the place sure isn't here now."

"Probably in the village," Spike surmised, lounging against a nearby boulder. "Partakin' in a bit of mobbery."

Buffy smiled. "Mobbery?"

"You know what I mean."

~*[+]*~

Angel was riding in the back of a rickety wooden wagon, headed for Lorne knew where. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was still off balance from the whole Cordelia reunion debacle. He'd been so certain that he'd have to rescue her, just like he always rescued her. He'd planned on sweeping her off her feet.

It hadn't played that way at all. It wasn't fair.

Then there was the Host, who hadn't stopped blathering since they left the castle. He liked the guy and all, but enough was enough. He couldn't even hear himself brood anymore.

"Here goes nothing," Lorne suddenly declared, nimbly hopping off the wagon.

Angel blinked. He hadn't realized they'd stopped moving. He disembarked, fastidiously brushing off clothes, and trailed after Lorne.

They had arrived at a farm of some kind, composed of a few ramshackle buildings. Several Host-like demons were indulging in some kind of wrestling game on the grass out front, egged on by kid demons of the same species.

Lorne looked kinda pale, if green skin actually got pale. "Oh boy, I'd give my left horn not to have to do this." He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and then waved enthusiastically, approaching the house. "Hi-de-ho! Guess whose back?"

The demons that were wrestling paused in their game and looked up. The largest of them dropped the one it had pinned and rose. It was big and muscular with a thick, grey beard.

"Krevlornswath?" it queried as it neared them.

"Close enough." Lorne was determined to keep his LA persona operative. There would be no lapsing into past character flaws today.

"Can it be true?" the large demon continued. "I have prayed that the day would come when I might look again on your face..."

"You're in luck, then..." Lorne began. He was cut off as the demon spat at him.

"You have shamed our clan and betrayed your kind!" It said in disgust.

Lorne calmly pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his spit-covered face. "Thanks, Mom."

Mom? Angel gawked at the demon towering over them, utterly stupefied. This was the Host's mother? Poor guy!

"Each morning before I feed," Mom went on. "I go out into the hills where the ground is thorny and parched, beat my breast and curse the loins that gave birth to such a cretinous boy-child!"

Lorne rolled his eyes and cast his arms wide. "Ladies and gentlemen! My mother!"

"Why are you here, Krevlornswath?"

"Oh, you know, I was in the dimension, thought I'd swing by. Place looks great by the way. You have another Dark Ages while I was gone?"

"Your father was right," Mom concluded in disgust. "We ate the wrong son."

"Well," Lorne decided cut short the Host-bashing and get on with business. His ego didn't need another round of this. "Enough of this sentimental reminiscing. Just a coupla quick questions and then I'll skedaddle ... hopefully forever this time." He tried a smile. "So remember back around five years ago when I first disappeared? Didya notice anything ... odd?"

"We noticed feasting and celebration!" Mom seemed determined to twist the knife. "Your brother Numfar did the Dance of Joy for three moons. Numfar, do the dance of joy!"

Angel unabashedly stared as a green-skinned demon launched into an unorthodox jig behind the Host's mother. The guy had no rhythm at all. And Angel should know - he couldn't dance either.

"Actually, what I meant was more along the lines of strange flashing, kind of a weird pulsating..." Lorne was trying to ignore the dancing demon and not succeeding very well, he turned to Angel. "You know how I said there was no music in my world? Wish I could say the same about the dancing."

Angel only managed a curt nod in response, preoccupied with Numfar's utter lack of coordination. It was kinda hypnotic.

Lorne turned back to his mother, picking up where he'd left off. "...Lights, really. You couldn't have missed it. Big, bendy, swirly..."

"No longer do the Dance of Joy, Numfar!" Mom ordered.

Numfar stopped mid-jig. Angel was a little disappointed.

"So nothing like that at all then?" Lorne was still on about portal activity.

Mom folded her arms across her brawny chest. "Now take your cow and get off my lawn."

"That is no cow!"

Everyone turned to look as the Host's cousin Landok emerged from the farmhouse, pushing his way through the gathering of curious spectators. He brushed past Lorne and descended on Angel, clasping him by the shoulders.

"My friend," he hailed effusively. "It is good to see you again. I would have perished in your strange world had it not been for your bravery."

Angel shifted a little - enjoying the attention, but also feeling a bit embarrassed by it. "Yeah. Uh, glad to see you got back in one piece."

"You know Krevlornswath's cow?" Mom's heavily lined brow shot up in disbelief.

Landok got defensive on his new friend's behalf. "He is Angel, the brave and noble Drokken killer!"

There was a collective cry of approval from the peanut gallery.

Angel wriggled his shoulders, trying to dislodge Landok's arm. The guy was pretty touchy-feely for a hero-type. "Just 'Angel' is really..."

"This cow defeated a Drokken?" Lorne's Mom remained skeptical.

"And without the aid of Thromite," Landok boasted. "He is as valiant and courageous a warrior as I have ever known."

High praise indeed. "Then he shall be welcome in our home," Mom relented. "We will do him honor. Numfar, do the dance of Honor."

Numfar launched into another idiosyncratic routine and Angel grinned approvingly. Now this was entertainment!

"Landok. Hi," Lorne greeted, then made an attempt to get the conversation back on topic. "Say, the Drokken killer and I just have a few itty-bitty portal queries, then we'll..."

Landok ignored him completely. "Come," he said, leading Angel away. "You will be the guest of honor at the village feast. There you will tell the tale of your bravery and courage against the vicious Drokken."

The Host remained where he was, watching them head off in the direction of the township. "Why, it's the homecoming I've always dreamed of," he quipped.

He had no choice but to follow his family.

~*[+]*~

Wesley was in his element, ensconced in a modest candle-lit room, seated at a table with an ancient book open before him. Two more with similar bindings were opened at his elbow.

He sighed suddenly. "I can't concentrate with you pacing like that."

There was a jaded exhalation and then Cordelia hopped onto the table, across from him. She picked up one of the compiled books and flipped the pages. "Can you actually read this stuff?"

Wesley turned a yellowed page. "It resembles certain demonic languages with which I have some familiarity," he acknowledged. "However, whole passages appear to be missing..." He glanced up and noticed the cover of the book she held. "Fascinating. A hart."

Cordy flipped her book over and looked at the cover. "That's not a heart. It's a Bambi."

"No, no, not H-E-A-R-T. H-A-R-T." Wesley rolled his eyes and captured the book from her hand. "The male red deer. It's often associated with rural mysticism."

"Uh-huh." Cordy made a disinterested face and scrutinized the remaining book. "They've all got animals on them."

Wesley put the Hart book onto the tabletop, and then scanned the trio of opened volumes. "Oh," he breathed, realizing. "Of course. The holy books are written in trionic."

"Tri-what-ic?"

"Trionic. No book is complete without the other two," Wesley explained. "It's really one volume broken up into three pieces."

"Like a trilogy." Cordy hopped off the table. She was just bored now. Holy guys obviously didn't have a life. Wesley either.

"Much more complex than that. A passage begins here," he tapped his finger on one book before following on to the others. "Continues in this volume, and then concludes in this one." He was nodding to himself. "The rhythm of the sentence structure lets one know when to jump from book to book."

"Anything about portals?" Cordy prodded. Isn't that why they were reading the stupid books in the first place?

"Impossible to say," Wesley continued to squint at the miniscule writing, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "Though I do seem to be finding references to the Cursed One."

"There's stuff about me?" Cordelia bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet. "Lemme see!"

"Belial," Wes annunciated carefully.

"Huh?" Cordelia crinkled her nose.

"It's a biblical word, meaning the personification of wickedness as an evil force - a demon or beast."

"Well that ... doesn't sound good."

"I agree, especially as the Cursed One is somehow linked to its arrival."

"What? How?" Cordelia moved around to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder at the obscure script.

"I have no idea," Wesley's concern was evident as he gazed up at her.

"Well, get one!" Cordelia huffed anxiously. "You're the big thinky egghead guy." She paused for a moment. "Or ... or I could get those priest guys to tell us what's the what. I mean, I am the princess, right?"

Wesley nodded, closing the nearest book. He frowned at the cover, noticing the illustration of a ram. He then closed the second book, the one with the hart, lining up the two volumes as Cordelia paced in agitation behind him.

"You're not listening," she accused, then realized what he was doing. She stood still for a moment before reaching out and slamming the third book closed. It had a wolf etched on its cover.

"Oh God," she swallowed. "Wolf, Ram..."

"And Hart," Wesley finished. "I don't think these priests can be trusted."