Chapter Four:

Hyperion Hotel

Angel, once assured that I could manage the phones and Connor, went back upstairs to go back to bed. I didn't blame him. Honestly, there's not much a vampire could do during the day, besides sleep.

Secretly, I love having Connor all to myself. Maybe it's wrong, but when we're alone, I can pretend. I can pretend that he's mine. Pretend that my life is the way that I'd always dreamed it to be. A wedding, a husband, a baby, a great job… that the visions aren't killing me.

I wouldn't trade them for anything. Hell, I had the chance to get rid of them with Groo in Plyea, but I couldn't. Not when my life has so much more meaning with them. When I was a little girl, I used to dream that I'd be a doctor or a nurse; someone that saves lives everyday. A person that would make a difference in the world. My father—well, he had a different opinion on exactly what a Chase woman could do or not do. He ruined my dream with his belittling; then destroyed it further by getting himself thrown in jail and getting our assets taken away by the IRS. So, there was no other option for me then to pretend to be the shallow, self-centered woman that I'd been in High School. I pretended that all I wanted was to be a big actress.

That was a lie.

It was only after Doyle, sweet, innocent Doyle sacrificed himself for humanity and passed along his visions to me that my life made sense. I had a purpose and my purpose was completely selfless. I told Angel once, our number one priority is to help the hopeless and I truly believed every word.

Now, even if I could trade my visions, I wouldn't. Not even for a moment. They are mine. They—DEFINE me. I'm 'vision girl'. I laugh at myself, making Connor giggle in my arms as I spin him around. "Yeah, Connor. Your daddy is the Dark Avenger and I'm Vision Girl. I'm silly, aren't I?" I tickle his little feet, "Aunty Cordy is so silly. Yes, she is." We giggle together for a little while.

The door jingled as it opened. Two men, one tall, the other shorter and both definitely cute, walked in. They aren't our usual type of clients; however I don't think they are lawyers either.

I walk over, still smiling as Connor tries to eat my hair, "Welcome to Angel Investigations. My name is Cordelia. How can I help you?"

The taller man came over to shake my hand, smiling at Connor, "Hello, Miss. I'm Det. James Ellison and this is my partner Blair Sandburg. We were wondering if we could talk to you."

I couldn't help but be afraid. Two police officers asking to talk to you is never normal. "Is something wrong?" I hold Connor closer to my body, shooting a look upstairs and to the closed office door, silently wishing for Angel or Wesley to come to my aid.

Det. Ellison assured me, "No. Not at all, Cordelia. We're here completely on an unofficial capacity. We were just hoping that we could get some information."

His partner was strange; he wore dark sunglasses and acted as if he was drunk. This was beginning to really freak me out. All I wanted was to inch towards the weapons closet for any weapon I could get my hands on. He caught my gaze towards his partner, then went over and practically dragged the guy over to the couch in the center of the lobby to sit down. "I'm sorry, miss. My partner is a little under the weather. Actually, that's one of the reasons why we need to talk to you."

Connor chose that moment to fuss, starting to cry, most likely because my body was tensing up. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean. Do you want to talk to the boss?" I rub the baby's back as I slowly back away from them.

Sandburg sat on the couch, head in hands. The detective was walking towards me; with every step he took I got more nervous. He tilted his head to the side, as if he was listening to something. His voice took on a different tone now—a more soothing tone, as if he was talking to Connor, as if somehow he knew that they were scaring me. "We aren't here to hurt you." To prove it he walked back to his friend and sat besides him, motioning that he wanted me to sit in the chair across from them.

"Alright. I'll sit down, but let me put down the baby, okay?" I walked over to my desk where Connor's basinet was, then gently placed him in the bed before covering him with his little blue blanket. I knocked on Wesley's office door, telling him we had customers.

He walked out of the office, his hair messy as if he hadn't slept. Which he probably hasn't; he's still trying to decode that prophecy. "Hello. I'm Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. How can I help you gentlemen?" He put a hand on my shoulder, then asked if I could get them some coffee. Thanking him silently, I let him take over.

Returning with the coffee, I was happy to notice that the atmosphere was lighter than before. Wesley had moved Connor's basinet and was gently rocking him to sleep, while the men talked quietly. I passed the coffee to Wesley, the detective, and placed his partner's coffee on a little folding table I'd brought with me from the office area. "Thank you," Mr. Sandburg whispered, wincing as he spoke, as if the sound of his own voice pained him.

I smile at him, forcing myself to relax and act professionally, "You're welcome." I pulled up another chair for myself, then grabbed a notepad and pen to take notes. "So, what can we help you with today?"

Mr. Sandburg pulled off his glasses and I couldn't help but stare at him. His eyes—It shocked me. They looked like Doyle's. It wasn't the color or intensity. It was that pained look of innocence lost. The same look Doyle had right after he'd seen something that shook his soul. The look he had in his eyes right before he died.

I felt it coming, I felt it a split second before it hit. The pain. The utter excruciating pain.

Then the flashes.

A Doctors Office

An Explosion

A Jungle

A Hippy Woman

Det. Ellison

A blond woman

A fountain

A police station

Pain

Fear

Death

The first thing I hear is Connor's screams as I open my eyes. My throat hurts, most likely from my own screams of pain. I feel strong arms holding me up. Angel's arms. He must've heard me. Immediately, I ask for a pain killer, though I know that Wesley has probably already run to go get them.

Angel asks me if I'm alright, so I lie, as I always do. "Yeah. I'm fine." I can hear another voice ask the same question. Now I remember the clients are in the room. "Yeah. I—Um. I'm epileptic, so I get seizures," I make this up. "But I'll be fine as long as I get my medication."

Wesley runs up to me and hands me my pills. I thank him before swallowing them down without water. Angel helps me sit up.

"Oh, my god. You're—." I put my hand against my mouth, staring in complete horror.

Mr. Sandburg is also lying on the ground, his nose bleeding and his partner helping him to sit up. "Jim," he whispered to him, "I saw—I can't believe it."

Angel and Wesley also catch on. Obviously, they were aware of exactly what happened. It happened to me often enough. It was quite a shock to see it happen to someone else though. A stranger.

"You have visions," Wesley states as he hands a couple of pain killers to the man lying on the ground gasping in, what I'd assume that he'd been feeling, mind numbing pain.

Sandburg whispers, "Yes. Please, please, help me. I need to get rid of them."

Wolfram and Hart Offices

"It's Park. We have a couple new players. And one of them—he's priceless. A human seer." Listening to his boss, he agreed, "Yes. We'd assumed that Cordelia Chase was the only surviving human seer on Earth. I guess we were wrong. Yes, sir, his eyes alone will be worth millions. Alright. I'll handle it, sir. Goodbye."

Hanging up his cell phone, Gavin Parks stared at the monitors in front of him with a sly smile on his face. He grabbed the remote control, pressing rewind. The sight of both Cordelia Chase and the newcomer both falling to the ground with visions was truly a sight to behold.

With any luck, he'd be in charge of the Special Projects department by the end of the week.

Well, what'd you think? Sensue