Disclaimer: Angel the Series and the characters of the show belong to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt and Mutant Enemy, not me. I'm just borrowing them but will put them back in the toybox afterwards, relatively unscathed... This story is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.

Spoilers: I forgot to mention this in the last chapter - although the origin of this story is mid-season 2, and from the point of "Reunion" (series 2, episode 10) onwards, it has become AU, there are still spoilers for things that happened in season 3 and 4 (and eventually 5).

Author's Note: I'm so happy to be back writing this story! The words have been flowing quickly these past few days, so expect pretty regular updates! Reviews are gratefully received!

Chapter Four

Kathy stared at the ancient scroll, understanding very little. The small sections of text in Latin were no problem, but demonic languages had never been her strong suit. She continuously glanced back at the notebook lying beside the scroll, examining the tiny, precise writing of Wesley's notes. He was nothing if not thorough, even going so far as to note down passages from the original text with detailed translations below. It was invaluable information for Kathy as she tried to discern whether or not anything had changed.

Of course, there was one person who could tell her for sure. He was pouring over the book she had handed him earlier, learning everything he could about the Kalderash.

"Wes?"

At the sound of her voice, the former watcher looked up, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Yes, Kathy?"

"Can you take a look at this for me?"

He made his way to the desk she was sitting at and glanced down at the scroll. "Anything you're looking for, in particular?"

She chose her words carefully. "Would you be able to tell if something in the scroll had changed? Just by looking at it?"

If he was puzzled by her question, he didn't show it. Instead he nodded. "I should say so. I can't tell you how many days – weeks, even, that I have spent studying the scroll. I'd fancy myself a bit of an expert at this stage."

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said. "Anything look amiss now?"

He leaned forward and studied the manuscript carefully, occasionally referring to his own notes, as Kathy had. She could tell that he was paying particular attention to the passage specifically about Angel.

After several minutes, he seemed satisfied. "I can't see anything different in the text. Why would you think something had changed?"

Of course he would ask, Kathy thought. She hated the cat and mouse game she had to play with the truth these days, but it couldn't be helped. Until she had more answers, it was better for everyone if she just kept certain things to herself. But that wouldn't be enough to satisfy the curious man at her side.

"I'm not really sure at the moment, Wes," she said, truthfully. "I'm just a little worried, I suppose, with what's been happening with the Kalderash, Cordelia's visions and everything else. I don't know, call me paranoid, but prophecies are tricky things and I don't want anyone messing with this one."

Somehow, that seemed to placate him. "Yes, I know what you mean. It's best to be prepared for what's to come. Trouble is, we still don't know what that is."

He was right. She had part of the answers she needed, but not in its entirety. There was another prophecy; one that she now needed to be certain had changed. Unfortunately, it wasn't currently in their possession. Even more unfortunate was the information she had dug up earlier regarding it. The prophecy had recently changed hands. Hands that would not easily let go of it.

"How are things going at your end?" she asked. "Any luck?"

"I'm not entirely sure that luck is the right word for it," he said. "I've been looking at the information you gave me on the gypsy blood vengeance rituals, but it doesn't quite match up with what Cordelia's been experiencing. The vengeance ritual causes the victim to enter a nightmare state in which the worst possible visions are visited upon them. Nowhere in any of the texts is there a case of a victim experiencing visions and nightmares sporadically, as Cordy has been, and certainly not without the ritual having taken place."

"So you don't think it's the Kalderash that are doing it?" Kathy asked. "The visions are from the Powers?"

"Now, I didn't say that," he said. "I have found references to several species of demon, as well as a few notable dark wizards, who have used dreams to punish or weaken the enemies. And the fact that Cordelia is a seer and has already had her mind opened by dark magic before, when Vocah cursed her, could perhaps make her more susceptible to such magics."

"And who has the resources and the motivation to work magic like this?" Kathy asked, not really needing an answer. She got one anyway.

"Perhaps the very people who turned the visions against Cordelia last time."

"It was so real," Cordelia said.

She was sitting up in the bed, while Angel sat on a chair beside her, holding her hand. She wasn't quite sure when he had taken hold of it, but she was grateful. It made her feel stronger somehow.

"Kathy said you've been dreaming about the Kalderash," Angel said.

"Sometimes, yeah. But other times, I dream about other stuff. Us, mainly. You, me, Wesley, Gunn. A baby… It's all… muddled up and confusing. But, at the same time, it's really vivid. More like…" She hesitated. "More like memories, really. Except none of it has happened."

"Do you think maybe it's the future?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. But if it is, what is it all supposed to mean? What are the Powers trying to tell me? The visions they usually send me are vague, sure, but they always have one clear purpose. Something we have to stop, someone we have to save and a timeframe to do it in. But this – the timeline seems to be all over the place. As if I'm jumping back and forward months or even years at a time."

She leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands. It ached constantly now, the vision hangovers seeming to have become permanent. And with all the dreams she'd been having, she couldn't remember the last time she got a full night's rest. She looked up at Angel and gave him a brave smile but it did nothing to ease his worry.

"You're going to give yourself frown lines," she said. "Honestly, Angel, you –"

He next words came out as a scream as another vision assaulted her. She felt herself jerk back in the bed, her body ridged with pain as the images crowded into her mind.

She and Angel lay in his bed, with the baby between them, as she fed him sleepily. It looked like a perfect family moment, except the next moment she was torn away from there, watching sulphurous flames rain down on the city. She was with someone else… a teenager… someone she recognised from a previous vision. He was scared, hurting and she comforted him.

Flashes of violence and pain, people in the streets screaming and weeping. Despair was all around her.

Suddenly she was in the middle of a huge, warehouse-like space and Angel had his hand wrapped around her throat. He was saying something, accusing her of something, but she couldn't make out the words. Blood pounded in her head as he squeezed tighter, making her fight for breath.

More flashes – a dagger made of bone; the sun covered by some mysterious darkness, blocking out its light; blood, so much blood…

She screamed and then all she could see was a bright light, blinding her.

She was screaming, screaming, as the pain and the fear washed over her. Even once the vision ended, the pain would not cease. She felt rise in her throat bile as she recalled how Angel stood, choking her. Surely this was not the future. It couldn't be. Why would Angel, her Angel, want to hurt her? Unless...

No. She had gotten no sense that he was Angelus in this latest vision. He felt distinctly Angel-like. Instead, Cordelia had gotten the impression that it was she, and not Angel, that was evil in this latest vision. And that confused her, as much as it scared her. What was going on?

It was only then that she realised that Angel was holding her again. She buried her head into his chest, tears running freely down her face. She was tired. Too tired to continue putting on a brave face for him.

"It hurts," she said. "All the time, now. I don't understand. Why are the Powers doing this to me? What are they trying to tell me?"

"We don't believe that the Powers are sending the visions," Wesley said, standing in the doorway. "Kathy and I have been researching, and there are other beings, both demonic and magical, who have the Power to send you these dreams and visions."

Angel got his meaning and growled. "Wolfram and Hart."

"That's our best guess. But we don't know for sure."

Angel looked at Cordelia again before getting to his feet, his eyes steely with anger. "Why don't I go ask them."