Through A Glass Darkly

Prologue: The Problem With Being Bait

Skip: We've been over this. I respect what you're trying to do. It's noble and heroic and all that other Russell Crowe Gladiator crap.
Cordelia: You've seen -
Skip: Didn't love it. The fact remains that humans are not strong enough to harbor the visions. Period. Even the Powers That Be can't change that.
Cordelia: Then find a loophole, Skip. I know my purpose in this world, and it includes the visions. And if the Powers That Be aren't complete dumb-asses, they know it too.
Skip: (hesitantly) There may be a tiny loophole.
Cordelia: I'll take it.
Skip: (sharply) You may want to think about that. (gently)The only way you get to keep the visions is by becoming part demon. The process isn't easy. It will make your vision-pain seem like a stroll through Candyland. And even after the agony subsides, the effects from the transformation will be numerous and unpredictable. You may never be able to lead a human life again.
Cordelia: So demonize me already.
Skip: It was an honor being your guide, Cordelia Chase.

From Birthday, AtS:3- episode 11

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“Angel! When I get my hands on your broody undead neck I am going to yank your over-gelled head off!!!”

Cordelia Chase, high school prom queen extraordinaire was tied hand and foot. Her hair was mussed, her dress torn, and her left hand had three chipped nails. She was smudged and her eye makeup had run down her cheeks, though not from any sort of over emotional response to her situation. Her captors had smelled so incredibly foul her eyes had wept. Cordelia Chase showed weakness to no one.

“That’s it! This is the last time I’m ever playing bait! Make Fred do it! She looks helpless enough!”

Her outfit utterly clashed with the horrible décor in the third rate hotel room she found herself in. The room was dingy, poorly lit, and she was fairly sure the moving dark bits in the corner by the bathroom were cockroaches. The bedspread smelled of mold and other things, and from her position, she could see some rather suspicious stains at the far end. She groaned and tried to relax her shoulders. It was one thing to play bait when the heroes caught the bad guys. It was another thing altogether when the bait got caught instead and hauled off to god only knows where with a stinky bag over her head and had to wait to be rescued by the very people who let her get taken in the first place.

“I am so not happy. Not at all.”

She could feel the ropes abrading her skin as she struggled, and knew that new demon powers or not, she’d be bruised in the morning. Her captors had been gentle enough, given she was slated for sacrifice in two days, but her head throbbed and she really wanted to stretch out. She supposed she should be grateful they’d left her alone. Guess they figured she was helpless and all.

“Oh, look, now I’m glowing. Fat lot of good that’s going to do!”

Then again, when her skin started to emit that unearthly light that had so surprised her friends after her birthday, she was doubly glad to be alone. The demon priests that had taken her needed a pure human to sacrifice, and if they figured out what she really was, she didn’t think she’d last the night. She didn’t even know how to turn it off. It’d only been a few days, and no one, least of all her, knew what to expect from her new… evolution.

“That’s it. When I get back, Wesley is so going to hit the books. No more surprises.”

With a sigh, she tried to wiggle loose again. The movement brought her closer to the edge of the bed and with a faint squawk of protest, she fell right off onto the even icker floor. She struggled to a sitting position, her back to the sliding mirror door to the closet, trying to get away from the sticky brownish fibers as possible. The cool of the glass felt wonderful on the rope burns on her wrists and she pressed as much of her hands against the mirror as she could.

“I’m still waiting. Rescue me any time now… Angel? Wes? Gunn? Anyone?”

It wasn’t that she thought that they could hear her, but somehow talking out loud made her feel slightly less desperately alone. Things had gone wrong on missions before, people hurt or visions misunderstood. She just didn’t know how that had happened this time. She’d been sure about what’d they’d had to do, especially since the visions were infinitely clearer now, even to the point of indicating how they could fix the problem. The vision said a girl was going to be abducted and sacrificed, so Cordy switched places with the unsuspecting young woman to draw the Order of Thrazsi out so Angel and company could do their hero thing. Except it didn’t quite work that way.

“Angel, when you get to me, I’m getting a raise and a new manicure on your bill.”

She knew her voice was getting weaker, and despite the non-fading glow thing she had going on, she was tiring. Cordelia wanted nothing more than a comfortable evening with Dennis in front of the television wearing fluffy sweats and bunny slippers. Unfortunately that didn’t seem to be in the cards. If she had her way, there would be no crappy hotel room, no smelly demons waiting just outside, no very tardy rescuers.

“And some hot chocolate. You are so going to bring me breakfast in bed tomorrow, you hear?”

If she’d been facing the other direction, she would have noticed something very strange about the mirror. Where her hands touched it, the glass in the mirror seemed to absorb the glow, becoming almost liquid like mercury. The not-glass rippled and swirled beneath the hard veneer under her fingers.

She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, helplessly, “Anyone? Help me; just get me out of here.”

The distance of the mirror seemed to crack into a million tiny threads of obsidian, and with a gasp, Cordy felt the solid, hard door behind her suddenly heat up. She flopped over on her side and tried to scuttle away on her butt, eyes wide. As she watched, the glass became shrouded in a spider web of shadows before rippling and folding inwards. A heartbeat later, she could see a shape, a large shape, coming towards her. She didn’t even have time to blink before a man stepped right out the mirror.

He was tall, wearing oddly formal attire in all black, and carrying a very impressive sword. His skin was the color of darkest night, black in the true sense of the word, and his eyes gleamed like ink swirled with rainbows. His ebony hair was long, braided over slightly pointed ears studded with earrings. The bottom pair was diamond, the ones above a stone the color of his skin, and trailing up the entire outer cartilage of the ear were silver hoops. A pendant in the shape of a spider hung from a dainty silver chain around his neck.

He stepped away from the glass which smoothed itself back into the more familiar form a hotel mirror. The newcomer moved with an unnatural grace, something that reminded Cordy of wild things, of worlds untamed, and it took her breath away. He looked around, puzzled, until his eyes rested on the seer.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, and finally managed to speak in a low whisper, “Hello salty goodness! Who the hell are you?”

Chapter 1: Lessons in Rescuing the Maiden

Coldly distant, the man surveyed the dingy room. His face showed no emotion; he was still as a statue. A heartbeat later, he blinked and scrunched his eyebrows together. He looked around again, and then down at the irate woman at his feet.

Ignoring the decidedly odd occurrence, for anyone other than her, of a random not quite man walking through her mirror, Cordy narrowed her eyes and ground out, "What? Are you going to just stand around all day? Untie me!"

He started and knelt down in front of her. They were almost eye to eye and Cordy was mesmerized by the swirling lights in his irises. His skin was so smoothly flawless she wanted to reach out and touch him to see if he was real. He spoke in a voice as rich as molasses, "Pardon me; I wasn't expecting to find you here."

He still didn't seem to understand, or at least wasn't comfortable with the situation. "What?"

She rolled her eyes and jerked her head over her shoulder. "Since you haven't offered to 'off with my head' with the wicked blade of yours, I'll assume you're not here to kill me. Ergo, you untie me and rescue me. It's really not that hard a concept."

He blinked again and pulled a small dagger from the sheath on his lower leg. He quickly sliced the ropes at her ankles and wrists and helped Cordy to her feet. She beamed widely. "Thanks! I knew you'd get the hang of it eventually. Now, who are you?" The dark man released her shoulders and she dropped to the bed, reaching down to massage blood back into her feet.

Cordy arched an eyebrow. "Uh huh." She rotated her neck and flexed her wrists. "I'm Cordelia, Cordelia Chase."

"Um… Don't take this the wrong way, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

He widened his eyes. "How do you not know what you are? You are Sidhe, greatest of the Fey, and a high-court Sidhe at that, unless I'm mistaken. Strange that I do not recognize you," he mused.

Now it was Cordelia's turn to stare. "Sidhe? Is that what I am? Skip was a little unclear on the details…"

"Well, no… it's recent, I suppose." She shrugged, not really concerned. If he was a danger, he would have harmed her by now. Since he hadn't, she wasn't about to look a gift rescuer in the mouth.

"How is it recent? I have never heard of such a thing, and I have lived for many years." He leaned back to get a better look at the woman. She was beautiful, golden tan skin, dark brown tresses to her shoulders, warm caramel colored eyes- and that glow like sunrise on a winter morning, the unmistakable sidhe glow.

She ignored his scrutiny and a bemused look passed over her face. "Let's just say, I got a birthday wish, and now I'm part demon, or maybe all sidhe, however you look at it. Nice to finally have a name to research." She stretched and stood, walking softly to the door and laying her ear against it.

He looked at her in mildly repulsed shock. "Demon? We are not demons, lady, we are Faerie; we are Fey; we are superior."

She grinned and held up her hands in a gesture of peace. "Fine, not demons. Poor choice of words. Well, I can go with the superior at any rate. What did you mean by calling me lady?"

She stepped back from the door, still speaking softly. "Well, technically I'm a princess, so… yes. Princess Cordelia at your service. But how'd you know?"

"I do not know… I only know that I heard your call and came to your aid. Your request was very… compelling."

She tilted her head, evaluating his words before stepping closer. "Don't think for a moment this conversation is over, mister, but I want to get out of here. You any good with that sword?"

"Nope, not a damn thing. I think there are two guarding me outside, or at least there were. They're Halbrea demons, so slice off their top right tentacles- that's where the heart is."

Doyle narrowed his eyes at the second mention of demons, but only nodded. "You may rest assured that I will take care of the problem." Cordy stealthily opened the door, sliding out. The demons were occupied a few steps down the left, arguing quietly about something. They were so shocked to see their captive escaping, glowing at that, they moved too slowly to defend themselves. Doyle sliced through the first without trouble, and the green tinged creature fell to the ground, gasping. The second proved to be made of sterner stuff, and it took a few minutes before it, too, lay broken and bleeding.

Cordelia motioned Doyle to follow her down the hall to a fire escape. They slipped out of the window and hurriedly made their way down to the street. Once they'd run a few blocks further away, Cordy slowed down. She was no longer glowing now that she was more calm and focused. She thought that maybe she should investigate some meditation exercises with Wesley if she was going to light up like a Christmas tree every time she got stressed.

"Alright, we're near Wilshire. I'll find a payphone and have Wes come pick us up. The bastards took my cell phone, don't suppose you have one?" He shook his head and looked around.

She gave him funny look. "Ah, yeah. L.A., land of the phony. It looks like it did this morning, minus the smog. I hate the morning smog."

Cordelia cried out excitedly when she saw the payphone on the corner. "Hang on." She dialed quickly, speaking her name to the operator. When Wesley's voice came on, she burst out, "Wes! You left me to die, you creep! No, I know that. What? Oh, well, Doyle rescued me." A pained look crossed her face, and her voice dropped. "No, Wes not that Doyle. You are not going to believe this one. He's gorgeous, and has hair down to his ankles. No. I'm fine." She rolled her eyes and gave him her address, hanging up immediately thereafter.

"Well, he should be here soon. Anyone you want to call, or we can wait till we get back to the Hyperion. I have to bitch Angel out about this little snafu."

Doyle had listened in on her conversation with interest, and fingered the grip on his sword. "Well, I would like to make sure you get back to your companions safely." He almost smiled. "That is what a rescuer would do, is it not?"

Cordy nodded amiably; already the strain from her time in captivity was wearing off. "And you can use the phone no problem. Angel's got a wicked new long distance plan, so that's cool. Not that I have any idea where you came from before you popped out of the mirror."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "That won't be necessary. Maeve's estate is not far from here, in Holmby Hills."

"Maeve Reed, the actress. She's graciously allowed Princess Meredith the use of her guest house."

For the first time, Doyle's smoothly controlled appearance faltered. "You do not know of the Princess? But she's been in all the papers recently…"

Cordy sat on a nearby bench after throwing an old pile of trash in the garbage can to clear off space. "Sorry to disappoint you, but there's been no princess in the papers, and certainly not any that look like you. You're most… unusual looking."

Doyle sank down on the bench next to her, eyes staring wildly out at the street. "I must contact the Queen as soon as possible."

Doyle looked at her with growing horror on his face. "Queen Andais, Queen of Air and Darkness, Queen of the Unseelie Sidhe."

Cordy shrugged and tried to smooth out the cuticle on the most ragged nail. "I really hate to say it, but if there's a queen of the fairies or whatever, she's not news. Most of the supernatural things keep out of the light around here." Suddenly, Cordy's hands stilled, and she looked at him, eyes wide. "Holy crap. You're not from around here are you?"

An awkward silence stretched between them until Cordy patted his hand and said, "Well, it's not like we haven't dealt with alternate dimensions before. I'm sure it'll only be a little while before Wes can figure out how to send you back."

"Send me back? But there's no such thing as alternate dimensions," he said faintly. He didn't seem nearly so intimidating as when Cordelia first saw him. The stony façade was cracking and she could see a very unnerved man… er… sidhe behind those beautiful eyes. He noticed her hand resting on his and shook it off lightly. Cordy frowned, but didn't press. Some people were touchy about personal pace.

She sighed. "I guess you're not so familiar with the whole 'vacation in another world' phenomenon that seems to be my life recently. Look, can you just believe me when I say other worlds exist, and it's likely that you're not in yours anymore. I'm not good with the logistics of it all; Fred'd be better to ask about that when we get back." He still didn't look at her and she mentally rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I'm sorry if I… dragged you here, or whatever. I didn't mean to."

He arched one elegant eyebrow and exhaled. "I believe there are many things in the world that cannot be explained. If I am indeed in a different dimension than my own, I shall deal with that situation accordingly. It would certainly explain some… aspects… of this adventure."

Cordy could see the beginnings of a brood coming on and glared at him. "Oh no you don't. No feeling sorry for yourself; we'll get you back. It's the least we can do for the rescue of me. And besides, this is sort of what we do."

He looked at her, the streetlights casting strange shadows on his skin. The passing lights of cars rippled over him, giving the illusion of movement where there was none. "What you do?"

"Yup, Angel Investigations- we help the hopeless. There are a lot of things that go bump in the night here that ordinary detectives and the police aren't capable of handling, even if they knew what was out there. But they don't, and we take clients with a more… supernatural bent." She shrugged. "It's a living, and it makes sense for who we are."

He actually laughed, albeit shortly and without humor. "Did you say a detective agency? And you're a Princess, a sidhe, away from her own kind?"

"My Princess, Princess Meredith is also a part-sidhe, Unseelie Sidhe, Princess who lived in self imposed exile in Los Angeles, working for a supernatural detective firm."

He snorted. "I'm not. Perhaps this accident wasn't quite as accidental as I believed." He fell silent again, glowering out at the passing cars. When it was obvious he wasn't volunteering any more information, Cordy tentatively reached out to touch his shoulder, wincing as he flinched away.

"How did you know I was a sidhe, or whatever. We didn't even know what I'd become…"

He let out a long breath and spoke softly. "I felt you call through the mirror at Meredith's apartment. Since only a few know to contact her, or myself, there, I assumed it was someone I knew requesting my aide… for all I knew, it was the princess herself. She was out on an actual date with Frost this evening, and I though they may have run into trouble. There's always trouble around the princess. Maybe I should have known something was… wrong. I couldn't see you, though the pain and panic in your voice was readily apparent."

Cordy nodded, entranced. She'd never heard of 'calling through mirrors'. She made a small gesture with her hand to encourage him to continue.

"One of my gifts, a minor one I suppose, is not only to be able to call through mirrors, but to pass through the shadows behind the images and… move myself through the mirror. I have done so in the past to aid the princess, and thought that maybe she was asking me to do so again. Except this time…" he frowned and looked down at the pavement. "This time it felt like I was pushing through molten glass. It pulled and burned and felt… wrong. When I came out the other side, there you were."

"You feel like one, is the best way to put it. Your aura glows with the light of Faerie and your magic permeates the air around you."

He smiled a bit then. "Many of the Fae possess unworldly gifts or traits. One distinguishing characteristic of the sidhe is that their skin glows faintly unless they shield it. You were not, and it was obvious to me what you were."

Cordy frowned and pushed at her skin with a fingertip. "So I can control it? I mean, I thought maybe it was a stress thing, since it's only happened during the visions, or when I was really upset."

"Visions?" For the first time, Doyle looked truly interested in the woman beside him.

"Ah, yeah. I'm the seer for a Champion, so I get visions that tell him, and us consequently, when someone needs saving."

"Interesting. That could be related to one of your hands of power, if you have them."

"Another of those… gifts I mentioned. Most powerful sidhe, both Seelie and Unseelie, have a hand of power or two that sets them apart from the other Fae. For some it can be a cruel burden to bear. Princess Meredith is the Princess of Flesh and Blood; it is not a comfortable gift."

"I think that will be a conversation for another time. Others have different gifts. My queen, Andais, is known as the Queen of Air and Darkness. Any word spoken into the night air comes to her in the end; nothing can remain hidden for long."

Doyle smiled showing slightly pointed teeth, and Cordy was reminded once again that he wasn't human. The sharp delicate bones of his cheeks and the too narrow set to his jaw only emphasized the otherworldly look. He spoke softly, "I am the Darkness, though I have other minor skills."

He grinned wider, almost seeming to enjoy the audience and very gradually faded away. Cordy sat straight up looking at the place he used to be, and gasped. The faerie had simply faded into the shadows, becoming part of the night itself.

"It comes in handy at Court, though my powers have been forbidden to me for many hundreds of years."

Her eyebrows climbed as high as they could and Cordelia coughed, "Hundreds of years? How old are you?"

He smirked. "Old enough. True sidhe are immortal, dying only by violent means. If we manage to keep ourselves safe in war or any of those ridiculous little challenges the court so adores then we can live forever."

The brunette chewed on her lower lip, deep in thought. "If I really am a sidhe now, does that mean that I'm immortal as well?"

Doyle shook his head. "No, as some of Fae blood, such as the princess herself, are condemned to a lifetime of an ordinary mortal. Her parentage is mixed with both Seelie and Unseelie Sidhe, brownie and human blood. There will be no way to tell unless you do not age, or can recover from wounds as a true sidhe would."

She nodded slowly, still thinking. She had no reason not to believe the stranger. He was helpful, if reticent, and she'd be a fool not to use all the help she could get dealing with her situation. He'd dropped so many tantalizing hints about his world and ways, and she was excited to find out all she could. Wouldn't Wesley be proud; she'd finally been bitten by the research bug.

It would also explain why they hadn't had any luck researching demons to find what she had become. She didn't remember faeries being considered demonic, not classically anyway, though they were definitely supernatural. She also didn't think she'd heard of them outside of fairy tales. She definitely wanted to ask Wesley more than a few questions.

She mentally sighed. It wasn't as if her life wasn't weird enough already. Might as well make the best of what she'd found. After a moment she looked up and met his eyes. "So, are all sidhe hotties like you?"

Chapter 3: Welcome Mat

The moment Cordelia stepped foot into the lobby of the Hyperion, she was engulfed in a massive hug. Angel pressed her close, running his hands over her hair and shoulders, touching her gently.

"Cordy I am so sorry. Words cannot express how sorry we all are." He leaned back, looking into her eyes, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. And the puppy dog eyes thing is totally unnecessary. Though you had better have been working on ways to get me back." She glowered and he stepped back, sheepish.

"You know we were. Wes had just finished a locator spell when you called. How did you get away anyway?"

Cordelia walked into the lobby and waved behind her. Wesley was next through the door, followed by Doyle. "I had some help."

The seer shrugged. "My rescuer. His name is Doyle." She blushed. "He's a faerie, and I think I sort of yanked him out of his own dimension." She raised her hands, palms up. "Ooops?"

The lobby was so silent that everyone could hear Connor crying two floors above. "You what?" Angel ran his hands through his hair, reinforcing the antigravity look he cultivated.

With a sigh, Cordy shooed Doyle towards the circular couch. She flopped down, obviously worn out from her adventures. Wes trailed along behind, a bemused look on his face. He hadn't spoken much on the car ride home, letting Cordelia ramble on about whatever came to mind. Cordy couldn't decide whether or not to be grateful since Doyle didn't seem the conversation volunteering sort either and had sat stonily silent in the back seat of Wes's SUV.

"Look, I don't know how it happened. He can probably explain better than I can, but it seems that I'm a sidhe, or at least part sidhe, or a Faerie, like he is. Or, not exactly like he is. Long story short, I… did something to a mirror where I was being held and it… called him to help me. Except, we don't think he's from around here. As in, the same way that Pylea's not from around here either."

The group in the lobby exchanged glances. Doyle was looking around the hotel, his gaze resting longer than necessary on the weapons cupboard. Gunn was sitting on the stairs, watching Fred. Fred took out a pad of paper and a pen and sat down, fascinated, at the counter. Wes moved into the office, pulling three musty books out and plopped them down next to the petite Texan. Angel moved to stand right in front of Doyle and fixed him with a patented brooding glare.

Cordy rolled her eyes. "Alright, I get it. I screwed up, but it's really your fault. If you hadn't let me get taken, I wouldn't have been in that crappy room waiting to be sacrificed and felt the need to reach out and touch someone. But really, he seems to be a good guy. Doyle, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Doyle. That's Angel… Gunn… Wesley you met in the car… Fred's behind the counter… And, um, is Lorne upstairs with Connor? Well, there's another charming face to Angel Investigations, Lorne, but he's upstairs with Angel's son."

Doyle swiveled his head to stare at Cordelia. "Angel? This Angel? He has a son?"

The dark sidhe narrowed his eyes and stood, stepping close to the vampire. "But you are not alive."

Gunn snorted. "Score one for the only guy here darker than me. Yup, meet our resident vampire."

"You work with a vampire?!?" Doyle looked mildly repulsed, if not outright confused. He edged away from the sofa to move into the open space of the lobby.

"Why does everyone say that? I'm a vampire with a soul people, good guy here!" Angel crossed his arms over his chest and glared back at the faerie.

At that moment, Lorne appeared at the top of the staircase. "Angelcakes, your darling boy here is wanting his papa. Come give him a kiss." The green demon trotted lightly down the stairs, not noticing the new comer. Connor shrieked again, waving tiny irate fists. Angel held out his arms, taking his son gently. He jiggled him a bit, but when it did nothing to ease the crying, he morphed into game face. Connor immediately began giggling and rubbed his hands over the brow ridges.

Attention went back to Doyle when he made a sort of strangled noise, grabbing his sword hilt. "A child, a real child… of a vampire you say? Now I know I am far from home. And his face, it looks nothing like any vampire I have seen. Is this common in your world?"

"What? The vampire thing or the miraculous child thing?" Cordy stood then too, walking over to tickle under Connor's chin.

Wesley spoke softly, "Angel is a typical vampire, except for his soul. He's the only known souled vampire in existence. As for Connor? Cordelia was correct in asserting he is a miracle child. He was born of two vampires, a human child with a human soul… We were almost as surprised about it as you are."

"Almost? Darla walked into this lobby and Angel nearly wet himself, if that's possible." Gunn laughed and stood, holding out his hand to the newcomer. "Charles Gunn. Don't know who you are, don't really care, but if you helped Cordy, you're alright in my book."

Doyle gingerly took the proffered hand and shook it. Gunn beamed and went to stand near Fred. She smiled a shy smile. "Hi, I'm Fred. Is there anything you can tell me about what happened that might help us get you back? Assuming you want to get back… Lorne is much happier here than in his home dimension."

Lorne waved. "Howdy tall, dark, and handsome. I'm Lorne, or Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan. Nice ta meetcha."

"No need to go calling people names, mister. I'm just a guy with horns who loves Karaoke."

Cordy walked slowly to Doyle's side and laid a hand on his arm, gripping it to get his attention. "Remember when I asked what sort of demon I was? You don't seem to have the same definition of them that we do. Lorne's not evil; he's a good guy, really. Don't go jumping to conclusions because he looks like a reject from Liberace's cupboard sometimes."

The sidhe relaxed slightly and the peculiar greenish yellow glow that had flared up in his palm smoothed away to nothing. "This is truly another world."

"Yes, well, now that we're all in agreement, why don't you tell Fred everything you remember?" Wes flipped open a book and spun it around. "You said Faerie did you not? Like this?"

Doyle cautiously strode over to the desk and peered down. There was a block etching of several tall, thin, ethereal creatures carrying bows and arrows, a faint aura surrounded them, and a few more average mortals knelt at their feet. He frowned. "This seems similar at any rate. What is this?"

Wes gave a wry smile and flipped over the cover to the book. Doyle snorted. "Fairy tales? Mythical creatures? I assure you, I am quite real."

"I have no doubt of that, but you see we aren't familiar with your sort of… creature here. It would be of great assistance to us if you could tell us what you can of your race and culture. If for no other reason than it will greatly help Cordelia adjust to her new… status."

Doyle blinked, the rainbows in his eyes fading away so nothing was left but inky black. "Yes, Cordelia. I must contact both the princess and my queen about her existence. I cannot fathom why a sidhe should show up here, in your world, when none have been here before. I would gladly help you with what I can regarding my arrival, but I must ask for some information in return."

The rest of Angel Investigations crowded around, carefully not touching the tall faerie. Cordy rubbed her eyes, exhausted, and said wearily, "And what would that be?"

"Why, information about you, Princess. They will both find this most fascinating."

Chapter 4: Midday Ramblings

Warm sun shone down brightly, the stereotypical southern California winter morning. A sea breeze blew in, pushing the haze up into the mountains, and L.A. collectively breathed a little easier. It was a stunning morning, where chipper joggers were out and about, and traffic on the expressway was actually moving.

Cordelia took a deep breath of air and smiled broadly. This morning was definitely looking up. She'd woken up with no bruises; in fact her body felt better than it had in ages. She'd had a lovely, long, hot shower and Dennis fixed her a mochachino before she headed out to return to the Hyperion.

She stood on the stairs up into the hotel and turned in a small circle, letting the late fall heat wash over her, warming her both inside and out. The street sounds faded to a low buzz, and she could almost completely block out the smells of asphalt and exhaust, focusing on the scents of sea spray and winter blooming green things- smells that reminded her of Sunnydale on a good, read: no one trying to kill you, day. She laid one hand on the door to the hotel and shook her head. She definitely hoped everyone would be in a better mood today.

When Doyle had commandeered the mirror over the mock fireplace in the office last night, everyone had left him in peace. When he came storming back out a few minutes later looking considerably less composed than he had earlier, the entire crew knew something was up.

"I cannot contact anyone through the mirror. I've tried all the ways I know how, but nothing works. Princess, I must ask for your assistance." Doyle scowled and loomed over a prone Cordelia on the couch. She sat up and scrunched her eyebrows.

"Yes, you. I believe that there's something about you, or your gifts, that allowed you to contact me in the first place. Ergo, you should be able to solve the problem of contacting home. Come with me."

Wes and Angel followed the pair of sidhe back into the office and sat on the desk. Doyle grabbed Cordy's hand and faced the mirror again. The dark faerie took a deep breath. "Now, Princess Cordelia, please try to concentrate on exactly what you were doing when you called for me."

She looked at him, at the mirror, back at Angel and Wesley, and finally at the mirror again. "Um, I didn't actually see what I was doing. My hands were tied behind my back, and I was thinking of other things, like how Angel Investigations owes me a raise."

"Hey! You got a raise last quarter just like everyone else." Angel looked to Wes who shrugged.

Obviously gritting his teeth, Doyle tried again. "I believe that it may have something to do with un-shielding yourself. Please try to relax and concentrate. Most of the Fae tend to be the exact opposite of you, showing their real selves unless they consciously try to hide it. You appear to be capable of maintaining a human countenance as your natural state of being. Perhaps this is a function of having once… been human."

Cordy tilted her head and thought for a second. She closed her eyes, withdrew her hand from Doyle's, and laid her palms together, breathing deep. After a moment, her skin began to lighten as if it were covered in shimmering powder. Gradually the glow increased until it filled the office with beautiful light. She opened her eyes, and both Wesley and Angel let out small gasps of surprise. Her irises were the same warm brown they always had been, but instead of the normal human coloring, they swirled with caramel heat, little flashes and bubbles of amber swirled around creating a kaleidoscope of golden hues.

"What? Is there something on my nose? I knew I should have demanded a shower before we got into this."

"No, no, it's… I can't even begin to describe it. I had no idea that your eyes could be this stunning…"

Cordy arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Gee, thanks. Way to make a girl feel special, Watcher-man."

Clearing his throat softly, Doyle gestured to the mirror. "Perhaps if you would touch the glass…"

Nodding, the brunette reached out both hands and laid them flat on the mirror. A faint ripple spread out through the glass distorting the reflections of the Darkness and the seer. Seemingly satisfied, Doyle passed his own hands over the glass in a complicated pattern, and suddenly a smoky vision appeared. They could vaguely make out a trio of people sitting on a sofa, two larger, one tiny and dainty. Nothing was clear, and it was as if they were looking through a lens smeared with Vaseline. Doyle didn't seem too perturbed, however, and let out a huge sigh of relief.

The diminutive presence in the middle spoke first, a pleasant light alto that belied her size. "Doyle is that you? Where have you been? I've sent Nicca and Sage out looking for you!"

He grimaced and waved dismissively at the others in the room. "If you would be so kind…"

Wes murmured, "Of course," and took both Cordy and Angel by the arm. They stretched to see into the mirror until they were pulled out into the lobby. The Englishman shut the door firmly behind him.

"Well, that was interesting… looks like E.T. could phone home after all." Cordy bit her lip and ran her fingers through her decidedly worse for the wear hair. "Well, this has been fun, but I've got some Haagen Daaz strawberry with my name on it. Wes, can you give me a lift? I've got to call Dennis and get him to start a bubble bath. This so calls for candles in the tub."

Wes smiled fondly at the woman, "Of course, Cordelia. Let me get my keys from the desk. Angel?"

"I'll wait here and keep and eye on the fairy tale in there. I think Fred set him up in a room down the hall from Gunn, so he can watch our visitor a night, or at least listen for him. You'll be back in the morning?"

Cordy had smiled, though it was tinged with exhaustion. "Sure thing. Regular time, regular place."

"I think Angel would prefer it if you were on time, just this once." Wes returned with keys and satchel, motioning towards the door.

She stood on the same steps, heading back in, and wondered what she'd find. She honestly couldn't blame Doyle for being a little put out about the whole affair, and though he hadn't demanded to be returned immediately last night, she knew he didn't care for the change in venue one bit. She sighed and pushed the door open.

The tableau in the lobby wasn't hugely different from any normal day. Wes was reading in the office, she could see his dark head bent over a musty old book, Fred sat behind the desk, flipping through the latest copy of some god awful physics magazine that made her so happy, and Gunn sat on the sofa polishing some weapons. Missing from the tableau were Angel, Connor and Lorne. She figured they were up in Angel's suite doing some family bonding, or at least Angel was trying to get Lorne to baby sit so they could all go out for an evening together. So far he hadn't succeeded.

What was added, however, was the unmistakable shape of her rescuer, glowering from a corner of the lobby, several newspapers spread around, with a tiny portable T.V. on the table in front of him. He didn't look up when she came in, and Cordy walked softly to the desk.

Fred offered her a donut from the box to her left, and snagged one for herself. She bit in, relishing the taste, and Cordy couldn't help but smile at the blob of raspberry filling that adhered to the Texan's lip. It was a strange, sweetened and sanitized version of Angel's daily feedings. How many times had she seen a drop of blood just like that on his lip, fang tips poking out? Fred tilted her head and smiled back. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, you've got some- on your lip- here." She handed Fred a napkin and sat on a stool, looking back over her shoulder. "How is he?"

Fred squirmed a bit uneasily. "Um, see, that's complicated… I think Angel and Wes really need to talk to you, see it got a bit, well, um, loud here last night after you left."

"She means that your companions did not approve of my desired course of action, Princess."

Cordelia spun around and found herself nose to chest with the tall sidhe. She could almost smell forests and stone, dark things and wild places. She shook her head and stepped back to get a better look. "They what? What did you want to do, anyway…" Narrowing her eyes, she leaned over the counter. "Wes, you in there? I think I have some questions for you!"

The watcher stalked out, glaring at Doyle. Doyle stared immovably back. "Your rescuer talked to his princess last night, and she, apparently, wishes for you to return with Doyle to their world."

Cordy started laughing, but sobered when no one else joined in. "He's serious?" She turned to the dark sidhe. "How do we even know he can get back?"

Wes rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, we believe that your… powers… or whatever they are, act as a in inter-dimensional amplifier for Doyle's innate abilities. It would take the two of you acting together to make it work, but we're confident that it could be done."

Fred nodded excitedly, pulling a pad of paper covered in scribbles and equations. "See, this proves that it's possible to use-"

Cordy cut her off, not quite as gently as she'd intended. "That's great, Fred. So Doyle, you want me to go back with you? I'm flattered by the offer, but really, my place is here."

"These are my people, my family, and you can't think I'd just leave them. I finally have a life here I love, not to mention being Angel's seer."

The vampire in question came down the stairs, holding a sleeping Connor in his arms. "She's right, you know. The Powers That Be won't let her go; they need me, and in order to get me to serve them, they need her. It won't work."

"So you said last night. But I still maintain she is to return. The coincidences here are all too prominent for us to ignore, and both Meredith and I agree that it would be best for you to return. [You say return here again, perhaps, come with me to the court? or something similar, to avoid repetition]"

"Yeah, well, that's great. But I'm not going. Not unless the Powers themselves get off their disembodied asses and tell me to go."

Doyle narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. "Very well. I will remain here for a while, in case you decide to change your mind, and please consider my request carefully. Think of all you could learn about yourself if you were around your own kind."

Cordy glared right back. "And why should I think this is something other than a power play for your princess? I hate to say it, but I know how this sort of politics works. I am Queen C and I play it like the best of them. You said last night I would be … something like a powerful bargaining chip, or at least someone of interest. How do I know you're motivated by my welfare and not that of your own, or that of your princess?" Doyle flinched and Cordy rolled her eyes in response. "Fine, stay. But I do what is best for this team, so if you stay, don't mess up our work."

Gunn, who had been listening to the entire exchange with a frown on his face, jumped when his cell phone rang. No one paid any attention as he walked outside, returning a few moments later to a still intense tableau. No one was talking, and Doyle had retreated back to his newspapers and was making noises of disapproval and disgust. He didn't seem to care for this brave new world particularly much. Cordy filed her nails and ignored everyone, but looked at the former street fighter as he came back down the stairs.

"The principal of that elementary school in Compton? Didn't we do an exorcism on his wife last spring?" Wes went to a filing cabinet and rifled though for a few moments before Cordy rolled her eyes and fished out the right file.

"See, Wes? It's under W for wife, subset P for possessed." She pointed out the filing codes and pretended not to see Angel snicker.

"Yeah, well, seems the playground at his school is infested with… well, he thought they were giant, flying, glowing cockroaches, but I'm not sure exactly. He'd like us to come exterminate them before school starts on Monday."

"What are we now, the Orkin man for the Supernatural? Wait, I wonder if he tried a real Orkin man first…" Cordy scrunched up her nose and tried not to imagine herself in a white cover all uniform. Bulky and baggy was a bad look for her.

"He did. Man ran away screaming and sent him a $300 bill." Gunn chuckled and grabbed his hubcap axe from the cupboard. Wes jotted down a few notes and put a reference book in his bag. Fred picked up her favorite crossbow, and Cordy pulled a short sword from the cupboard.

Angel sighed mournfully. "Why is it always daylight? I think playing exterminator would be fun…"

"You would. So, Doyle, wanna come see what we do for a living?" Cordy smiled, not unkindly, and the sidhe stood up.

"I think I will find this most fascinating." He moved to the doorway, holding it open for the ladies. Cordy smiled back at Angel, jiggling Connor softly in the middle of the lobby.

Chapter 5: Out for Recess

The five exterminators piled out of Wes's SUV into the dingy, run down playground. Several of the swings were broken, the slide was down on one leg, and the sandbox was full of… things other than sand. There was only a bare fringe of green on the side of the yard, struggling to come up with even weeds in the concrete jungle. The playground was deserted, no weekend visitors this early in the morning. The cracked black top looked as if it got a lot of use, but the rims had long since lost their nets.

Cordelia's heart ached strangely at the impersonal modernization of it all, suddenly longing for wide green fields and softly burbling creeks. The detritus of everyday life littered the corners of the chain link fence, but throughout the decay, there were signs of life and hope. One slender stem rose delicately from a tangle of brownish weeds, topped with a crimson bloom. It waved gently, seeming to wink at Cordy, and she breathed a little easier.

Fred looked around and murmured, "Wow, those bugs musta done a number on the place."

Just as softly, Gunn said back, "No, not the bugs. It's been like this for years…"

They stood in silence, lost in their thoughts. After a moment, Wes shook himself and motioned everyone forward again. They walked cautiously into the yard, stepping over bottles and litter. Cordy wrinkled her nose and walked gingerly, but Doyle had what appeared to be his usual expression on his face, stony quiet, and made no outward notice of the chaos. He almost seemed to ripple over the ground with a grace found only in the very old, the not quite tame, the not quite human. Cordy wondered whether she would ever move that way, or whether that grace belonged to him alone. Was Doyle even average for a sidhe, or was his beauty, for he was beautiful, as unique as the rainbows that sometimes danced in his eyes? Shaking herself, she turned to watch Wes as he scuffled around, looking for a nest or hive.

"Now, remember, this is reconnaissance first, and we may have to come back later." Poking around under a sad looking wooden fort, Wesley suddenly jumped. "Good Lord! There must be hundreds of them," he exclaimed, ducking for cover. Out of a hole in the side of the wooden structure, a swarm of brightly glowing, foot long, flying demon insects buzzed out.

The ladies stood with their mouths open briefly, until dive-bombed by nuclear-hued, very pissed off, cockroaches of doom. They fled, shrieking softly, behind the slide, and exchanged exasperated glances.

"This is ridiculous! What the hell are we supposed to do with them?" Cordy peeked around the edge of the slide to see Gunn attempting to slice through the swarm with his axe, having moderate success if the spurts of neon green goo were any indication. Wes was hiding under an upturned playpen of some sort, and was rapidly leafing through one of his newer looking texts; this one was from the seventeen hundreds.

Doyle had a look of horror on his face as he brought his hands up, a sulfurous flame erupting from the middle of the palms. Whenever one of the roaches landed on him, the flame would rush over his skin, annihilating the creatures into dust.

Fred tried unsuccessfully to hit something with the crossbow, and Cordy rolled her eyes. "We are getting nowhere. He's given me an idea. Come on," she whispered, sneaking around the other side of the swing set. Unfortunately, the swarm noticed them, and in a matter of seconds, they were both covered by a blanked of hissing, clicking bugs that seemed far more intelligent than your average insect.

When three got tangled in her hair, Cordy decided she'd had enough. She brought her palms together as she had in the office, and concentrated. Soon, the glow spread rapidly over her body, and she outstretched her hands, snagging one of the creatures from the air. She gave it a squish, hearing the outer shell of whatever it was crackle. She smiled grimly, and muttered, "Alright Powers… let's see what this glow stuff can really do."

A feeling of intense electricity flowed through her, sparking off her skin, humming through every fiber of her being. She felt new magic build through her body, and relaxed, letting it wash over her in waves of burning hot and icy cold. She closed her eyes and shouted wordlessly.

The glow spread outward, leaving the confines of her body. It flowed throughout the playground, rippling and ebbing, bathing everyone within with unholy light, highlighting every imperfection, every flaw, and burning them all away. Small nicks and cuts on her friends bodies healed instantly, while some of the worst grime and rust sizzled off of the playground objects. Now alarmed, the bugs attempted to swirl away, but the light caught them, and with barely audible screams, they flashed away into nothingness.

Fred and Gunn both staggered under the invisible weight of the light, and Wes tried not to breathe in the curiously swirling dust particles. Doyle, however, stood still; face upraised he sighed, a blissful expression on his face as the pulse washed over him, touching him, caressing him, filling him with the familiar magic of his world, the magic of the sidhe.

When the light faded, the seer crumpled to the ground holding the charred and crispy remains of the cockroach in her hand. Very slowly she unclenched her fingers, wincing at the small aches and pains in each finger joint. Her skin felt tight and itched, small frissions of static ruffled her tiny golden arm hairs, reminding her of thousands of small spiders running over her skin. She shivered involuntarily, and opened her eyes to see everyone staring at her in shock- not a demon bug in sight.

As one they rushed to her, Wes laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Cordy? Cordelia? Are you alright? And what… what happened?"

Nodding heavily, she looked up, searching first for the ebony eyes of the other sidhe. They glittered with some strong emotion, the rainbows faintly whirling in the dark depths. He had a bemused smile on his face, and not a small look of awe. "I am most impressed Princess Cordelia. You've exceeded my expectations immensely."

"It seems, my dear, that you are a Princess of Purity, and most likely a Seelie Sidhe, one of the glittering throng. Unless I am greatly mistaken, you hold the power of purification, and can defend yourself against supernatural evil by your mere thoughts, though touch will help in the beginning."

He reached down a long thin hand, deceptively strong, and pulled her to her feet, much as he had the night before. He released her hand immediately, but held her immobile with his gaze, impressing on her a feeling of great weight. "It is a wondrous gift, and very unusual. It will make you nearly invulnerable to the innate magic that sets apart other Fae and supernatural creatures, should they choose to use their own gifts against you. More man made harm, though, is still a danger. A dagger in the back will be just as deadly…"

Cordy blinked at him, the amber whirls in her own eyes calming and fading away with the glow of her skin. "I'm a what? And I can do what?"

Clearing his throat, Wesley interrupted. "Yes, you mentioned that before, Seelie Sidhe. And did you say to Cordelia before that you were an Unseelie Sidhe? What's the difference?"

The dark faerie frowned. "A long time ago, the fae of my world divided into two camps, if you will. The glittering throng, or Seelie Sidhe, were considered the good and, well, friendly gods and goddesses- the fae were once worshipped as gods as we're nigh immortal and most have unusual powers beyond human conception. The 'good guys', or so those ridiculous movies Rhys favors would call them, were these sidhe."

He smiled a twisted smile. "Yes, and those were called the darkling throng, the nightmares of the faerie world, to the human way of thinking. Originally this did not include sidhe and was made up the Slaugh, the wild hunt, the most feared of the creatures of the dark. Over time, however, the sidhe… split, for lack of a better word, where those of a darker bent joined the Slaugh and became the Unseelie Sidhe. We are not worse than the other sidhe, though humans often times feared us where they did not our Seelie counterparts. Maeve Reed, as I mentioned last night, was a fertility goddess and a Seelie Sidhe. Rhys, who I spoke of before, was a god of death. He, I, as well as my Princess and her guards are Unseelie. The king of the Seelie is the King of Light and Illusion, and our queen is the Queen of Air and Darkness, but there is little to separate their cruelty." He trailed off softly, and didn't seem to notice his companions watching him closely.

"Well, it is some matter of choice. You don't have to join either court right off the bat when you return-"

He ignored her interjection. "But it is up to you. The Unseelie court takes all fae, the broken, the abandoned, the deformed… it is our way, and not the way of the Seelie. For them, all things must be beautiful and breathtaking. Luckily, you would fit in well on those qualifications." Cordy snorted, but was pleased. He continued, "The gifts however, such as the hand of purity, are often found more in one court than the other, and the more powerful gifts often do not show up for many hundreds of years. The last time I saw your particular power was in the middle ages, though that sidhe was killed in a war between the courts."

Cordy frowned, "So, I've got the ability to, um, annihilate enemies with my thoughts? Will they disintegrate like the bug thingies did, or will bigger things stand up better? How do I prevent triggering on people I like? I don't want to accidentally crispy fry my boss… Does it work for any enemies, or only supernatural ones? Do I have to be attacked first? How does this work at all? And why would the Powers give me this power? What's in it for them?"

A bit overwhelmed at the barrage of questions, Doyle looked at her, bewilderment marring the usual serenity of his features. Wes picked up his book and carryall and motioned them back toward the car. "Perhaps they need you alive, and this was the best way to guarantee you a long existence. It appears that this is primarily a defensive power, is it not?" He looked to Doyle who nodded, eyes narrowed. "Well, they didn't make you into a warrior per se, unless you have more tricks up your sleeve, so my guess is this was a protective measure. Especially as we have no idea what's in your future, or in the future of Angel, your champion."

Cordy was silent, absorbing his words. She opened the car door, sitting shotgun, which left Fred between Doyle and Gunn in the back. She didn't seem to mind, and Cordy wondered whether she was right thinking Fred preferred Wesley. She shut the door firmly behind her and frowned. If the Powers did have something in store for her, they certainly gave her a pretty impressive arsenal to defend herself. Which begged the question, what was she defending herself from?

Chapter 6: Visions Calling

The Jeep rolled to a stop in the small parking lot behind the Hyperion. The occupants were still silent, and Cordy slowly opened the door with a sigh. She sat for a moment, watching her reflection ripple in the window glass as the car door swung slowly back and forth on its hinges. The ever fluctuating image slid in and out of focus, and Cordelia couldn't help but feel a bit sympathetic to her reflection.

Snapping herself out of the mini-pity-party, she spoke briskly, "Well, come on. I'm sure Wes has to make some fascinating notes about the demon bugs."

The rest of the car had moved just as slowly out of the car, and Doyle looked faintly motion sick. Wes rubbed his hand over his chin contemplatively, and murmured, "Erm, well, I would hazard demon, though it might have been nice to have a sample to make sure they weren't an experiment gone awry. I remember a town in Massachusetts- was it?- that a bunch of irradiated cockroaches were poisoned after the experiment was done, bagged, left for dead in the dumpster, revived themselves, and got out in the town." The former watcher fidgeted under Cordy's repulsed glare. "But these were probably demon bugs. Really."

The group wandered into the lobby, restoring the clean weapons to the weapons closet, dirty and soiled ones went to a small table covered with rags and other cleaning supplies. Gunn pulled at the green splotches on his clothes and grumbled, heading up to his room to change. Cordy pretended not to see Doyle watching her closely and went to rock Connor in his bassinet. Lorne came out of the kitchen wearing and apron and holding a warmed bottle.

Cordy smiled wearily. "No Lorne, it just appears that I'm some sort of destructo-girl now. Evil exterminator extraordinaire."

"I'd have thought that was a good thing?" He handed Cordy the bottle and she gently picked the infant up, cradling him in her arms.

Fred and Wes headed into the office, eager to catalog and investigate that morning's adventure, discussing softly amongst themselves. Doyle stood silently behind Cordy, his arms crossed. She tickled Connor under the chin and wiped up a bit of spilled milk.

"Yeah, I guess it is… but it makes me wonder. I mean, why me? What's so special about me? I know I chose all this and all, but I sort of expected fur or wings or a tail or something, not the death glow. It's… worrisome."

"Wanna sing for me? Maybe that'll help." Lorne spread his arms wide, as if to embrace Cordy, but held back. "Or maybe not. Rather not know, precious?"

She sighed again, sitting on the ottoman. "I don't know. What if all of this is some colossal joke on my behalf… what if-"

"Ah, ah, ah. No what ifs. Those are bad things, and you know better." The green demon smoothed his hair and ran an even greener nail over his horns. "I don't get a doomy sort of vibe from you though. So whatever's in your future can't be that dire."

The dark sidhe nodded almost imperceptibly causing the tip of his braid to bob slightly over his ankles. "I concur with the demon, as much as it pains me to say. It's hardly likely that the Powers, whatever they may be, would have gifted you with such an extraordinary hand of power if you weren't needed or valued." Cordy was surprised at the tone of almost warmth and concern in his voice, and she wondered briefly what finding out about his own powers would have meant to him. She wasn't entirely thrilled.

"Thanks guys, I mean it. It's just what with my brain nearly exploding, taking a walk through the what could have beens, and making the choice to keep the visions no matter what, I'm a bit frazzled." She jiggled Connor slightly, smiling fondly down at him when he gave a little burp, eyes wide.

"I beg your pardon, but your head nearly exploded?" Doyle uncrossed his arms and sat down across from the unlikely pair of seers.

Not looking at him, Cordy spoke softly. "Yeah, humans aren't meant to carry these visions. I got them sort of as an accident; seems love will do tricky things. Doyle, Francis Doyle not you- loomy, dark Doyle, was Angel's seer first. He sacrificed himself to save a boatload of people, and right before he was burned to a crisp, he kissed me. Voila, Cordelia the Link." She leaned back, deep thoughts evidently on her mind. "But each vision, each person that needed to be saved, destroyed a bit more of my brain. I was dying, but even when I had a chance to get rid of the visions, I wouldn't. So when a vision put me in a coma of sorts, I was given a choice. Get rid of the visions, lead a perfect life knowing my friends would suffer, or keep them and stop being human. It really wasn't much of a choice…" she trailed off.

Doyle had a look of surprising compassion on his face, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it with a head shake. Lorne sighed. He stood and straightened his canary yellow suit pants and smoothed the front of his aqua silk shirt. He laid a hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"I don't know what to tell you, muffin, but you have to think everything will turn out the way it's supposed to. Fate and all that." She smiled wanly, and he took Connor and the bottle back, heading to change him in the bathroom.

Cordy turned her head to look at Doyle, almost daring him to speak. He regarded her for a moment, and said softly, "Princess, you were right this morning; you would be a valuable ally to Meredith, should you choose to aid her. She has many enemies at court, and is currently in a struggle for the throne. I do believe she would be a great queen of the Fae, and you could do worse than to help her." Cordy's gaze hardened, but the dark sidhe held up his hand to stall her comments. "But I was also serious about you needing to be around other Fae, particularly other sidhe. Your… status… is new upon you, and you've had no way to learn what being sidhe means. We, the faerie, need the contact of others of our kind, or we can whither and fade. Do you feel different here in your city since you became sidhe? Do you feel called to the natural in life, away from the glitter and mechanics of the city?"

Cordelia nodded, uncomfortable. She had noticed a difference, even just this morning. She felt drawn to the ocean, to the green, and it was not a negative feeling. Could he be right? Could she need other Fae around? "What happens when a sidhe fades?"

Doyle leaned back, relaxing his stance slightly. "The sidhe, though it can happen to any of the Fae, loses his or her will to live and simply cease to be. It is a painful thing to watch happen to someone you care about." He creased his brow, as if debating continuing. "The princess almost lost one of her guards recently, Kitto. He is part goblin, part sidhe, and did not thrive here in the shine of Los Angeles."

Doyle waved a hand, sharply. "It is fine now; he has accepted his sidhe side as well, and is in no more danger of fading. But it is a concern for you, should you choose to stay here. I cannot remain, as my duty lies with my own Princess, and I fear what would happen to you given time."

Frowning, Cordy scraped her hair back into a ponytail and groaned, "Way to make the decision easy, Doyle. You know I can't leave Angel, not without a seer." She frowned, and continued in a softer voice, "No matter the consequences."

They watched Lorne in the other room, cooing to Connor and chatting with Wes and Fred. It was a scene of such normalcy, Cordelia's heart ached. She couldn't leave this, couldn't leave Angel and Connor, the family she always wanted. She had found a real family in Angel Investigations, and so some of the members were a bit odd, but they were home. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

Gunn came down the stairs, humming to himself, freshly outfitted in a new polo shirt and jeans. "Passed the Broody one on the stairs; he'll be down in a bit. Want to go over some new moves, Cordy?"

Gunn grinned and moved to the weapons cupboard. "Yup, our little Pylean Princess is getting to be pretty wicked with a short sword. Angel's taught her all the basics, and we spar some. I'm more an axe man myself, but it's good to know all sorts of weapons. Never know when we'll come up against some guy that's been dead since the dark ages and thinks swords are the way to go."

Doyle couldn't help but appreciate the sentiment, and said so. Cordelia stood, forcing herself to be excited, and took the sword from Gunn. They stood opposite each other in the lobby, mimicking thrusts and parries.

Suddenly, Cordy's sword clattered to the floor, and she gasped, glowing, as she slowly levitated off the tile floor. Her eyes swirled with light and she clenched her fists by her side. "A young woman with hair the color of fresh blood is asleep with a man with hair like Christmas tinsel- wouldn't want to see the styling bill for that upkeep. There's someone on the other side of the window- why is it daylight? Can't they see him?- and he blows powder through the opening- oh god! The skin, their skin, it melts! They're screaming and the man shape comes in, shooting them through the head! Oh god! Angel!!!!"

She dropped to the floor. Gunn picked her up, setting her on the couch. "Angel! Yo, Angel! Get your undead ass down here!" The vampire in question clattered down the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of the seer. The rest of AI came crowding around, but Doyle stayed back, frozen.

"We probably have till night fall to find them, since it was daylight in the vision and isn't even noon yet. And boy do the Powers want them saved. Like, really saved. I don't know what the powder stuff was, but it ate them up, paralyzed them maybe? They couldn't even defend themselves when that guy, I think it was a guy, came through the window. We have to find them!" She clutched at Angel's arm, shaking it slightly.

The vampire nodded sharply. "Fred, see if you can check with any salons around here, see if anyone's done hair like that recently. Silver tinsel? Is that what I heard you yell? That shouldn't be too hard to track."

"No, no it's not." Doyle was trembling and everyone stared at him. "That man is Frost, my second in command, and the woman… the woman is my princess, Princess Meredith."

Chapter 7: Finality

Cordy gaped at Doyle, her mouth hanging open. "That can't be! I get visions for Angel, but that one must have been meant for you? I- I-"

"I do?!? I didn't do anything! We have to get back; we have to save her!" Doyle had unconsciously drawn his sword, and it hung loosely in his hand. He stared around in near panic and almost bolted to the mirror in the other room. Faint tremors ran through his hands, and despite his outwardly calm appearance, everyone knew that Doyle was becoming greatly alarmed. For the first time since he'd walked through the mirror in the dingy hotel room, Doyle himself began glowing. Instead of the sunrise of Cordelia's skin, he shone with the light of night, starlight on water, moonlight on polished stone.

If she hadn't been so wound up, Cordelia might have stopped to appreciate the view. Instead, she pushed herself off the couch and made a rude gesture to the ceiling. "Alright, you pansy-ass Powers. Get down here! You can't possibly think I'm supposed to go with him, do you?!?!?" She shouted loud enough that Angel and Doyle both winced.

There was a loud pop, and the company jumped back as a large, bronze demon appeared in the middle of the lobby. He was covered in metal plates and adorned with spikes and knobs with a ring through his chin. He waved, smiling. "Hi guys!"

The demon in question nodded and jumped to sit on the check-in counter. "So, Cordy, seems you wanted a little chat?"

He preened, smoothing his fingers over his chin ring. "Me. Powers sent a messenger, just like you asked. Though I suppose we should be grateful they didn't send Joan of Arc… that was terrible flick." He shook his head. "Messenger: good concept, poor execution. Sure, Milla Jovovich is as delicious as they come, but more with the crazy voices than the helpful information. Now, did you have a question for me?"

"Do I have a question? Of course, you bozo! Do you mean to tell me I'm his seer now?" She pointed rudely in Doyle's direction. Skip followed her gaze.

"No, not at all." She slumped in relief, only to tense up when the balancing demon continued. "I mean you are your own seer now." Now her eyes went wide. "The Powers have a new job for you to do, and it means working with this lovely sidhe here, as well as some of his companions. The fae of his world are loosing strength and vitality because of their ties to a corrupt royalty. Their numbers and magic are fading, as is deemed by the Powers, but they're fading at too fast a rate. Things have not been allowed to run their full course and the Powers need the sidhe in that reality. You were chosen to help their cause."

Angel slid into game face and stalked over to Skip, poking him in the chest. "She. Is. My. Seer."

The demon sighed, and patiently continued. "Not any more, ducks. That's been taken care of." He pushed himself off the counter and strode to the group of thoroughly confused people and demons on the other side of the lobby. He stopped in front of Lorne and clapped him on the back. "Meet your new link." He chuckled to himself. "Too bad I didn't get to demote anyone; I've always wanted to do that bit: 'You are the weakest link. Goodbye!'"

Lorne choked and staggered to the couch, sinking on it heavily. He made a few strangled noises, and fell silent. Angel looked from Lorne, to Skip, to Cordy and back to Skip again. "You're serious."

"Don't let the guy's fashion sense put you off. He's your link alright, and a darned good one too. His prognosticating ability will be slightly different for visions than his usual aura readings, so it'll be much the same as Doyle's and Cordy's visions." He grinned. "See? The Powers have everything under control."

Cordy stalked over to Skip, fury evident on her face. The lights in her eyes flickered and danced, and she began to glow. "You knew! You knew when I made my choice what would happen, and you let me think it would be fine. You let me believe that all that would happen is a bit of demon in me, that's it!"

"Well, of course I did. Though I did warn you it would be difficult, if you recall." He grabbed Cordy's shoulder and squeezed slightly. Though easily dwarfed by his size, she stood up to him with a fury that made her seem his equal. His lined and grooved face softened for a moment. "I am sorry, if that means anything. But I also know what a fantastic champion you will be in your own right."

The brunette couldn't help it. The anger evaporated, and in its wake came tears. She turned to Angel who walked forward and embraced her, holding her tightly. "I can't, I just… these are my family, how can I leave them?"

Angel murmured gently into her hair, "You can because you're a champion, as over used as that word is. You have amazing strength Cordy, and you will do wonderful things. And who knows, maybe one day you'll come back." He kissed her forehead. "I don't want you to go, we don't want you to go, but we've all lived our lives for the greater good for some time now. As much as it kills me, I have to agree with Skip. You will knock their socks off. Hey, do you think you can keep in touch with that mirror trick?"

They both looked to a still distressed Doyle, who shrugged. Skip cleared his throat. "I think we can be convinced to look the other way if she wants to call home every so often. We're not monsters, you know." The glares that Angel Investigations sent definitely showed that they thought otherwise.

Still sniffling slight, Cordy whispered, "Can I not go? I mean, is there a way out of this?"

Skip shook his massive head. "No. We thought sending Doyle here would be enough to convince you, but it seems that your ties here were stronger than we appreciated. As his princess really is in danger, we then felt a vision would be proper motivation. You have great compassion and willingness to aide others, and we did not believe that you would leave her to suffer and die. No choice is an easy one, but we would not have chosen you if you weren't up to the task. Consider yourself elevated, if you prefer. Not everyone has what it takes to be an instrument of the Powers. As it was an honor to be your guide, so it is an honor to deliver this information."

"We believe so, though we've sent a warning with enough time for Cordy to fetch some things from home and say goodbye to her friends. As I said, we're not monsters."

Cordy straightened her shoulders and shook back her hair. "Fine. If I'm going to do this thing, I'm going to leave from home. I've got a full length mirror there, and you did say I could bring some things with me. Oh god, I don't even know what I'll live on there! I don't have any of their money; I don't even know if it's the same!"

Doyle, now that they were definitely leaving, relaxed a bit and said, "I'm fairly sure that you will be hired on at the same detective agency that Meredith works at. Jeremy Gray hired all of us when we showed up, and I know he won't say no to another sidhe on the staff since Meredith's had to… retire until the threats on her life are resolved. As for a place to stay, there's more than enough room in Maeve's guest house, and you may wish to stay with at least somewhat familiar faces for a while at least."

Cordy nodded numbly. Angel retrieved Connor from his bassinette and handed him gently to her. "Here, we'll take him with us. We'll drive to your apartment, and say goodbye there." Snuggling the baby close, Cordy followed Angel through the back of the Hyperion to the covered parking area. She paid no attention to the others, including Skip, who filed out after them, not noticing as they exchanged looks and picked up a few items from the hotel, placing them in a duffle.

The ride back to her apartment was silent, and while the tension was high, no one wanted to speak. Doyle watched Cordy like a hawk eyeing a mouse, and wouldn't let her out of his sight. She cooed and cuddled Connor, trying to work into a few minutes all the love and attention that he'd miss out on in the time to come. Angel's hands were white on the steering wheel as he clutched it tightly.

All too soon, they arrived, and were met by an incorporeal Dennis at the door. The ghost responded to the anxiety in the room by fluttering around and waving a dish towel erratically. Cordy gave Connor one last kiss and handed him back to his father. She almost smiled a bit as Dennis floated a blanked over her shoulders in concern.