Wild Days

Cordelia:

When Skip came to me that night a few months ago, telling me I was meant to become a Higher Being, to go to another plane of existence, I was shocked to put it mildly. I mean, I had just realized I was in love with Angel when this annoying demon showed up again, destroying whatever plans I might have had for the future. Not that - mind - there were any. Not really.

Angel was still a shakily cursed vampire, and so anything sexual was a big no-no anyway, and I didn't forget all the woe and heartache with Buffy. Not that I am in any way like Buffy, don't get me wrong. I am not. Not by a long shot. But I was *so* not looking forward to Dramatic-Love-Story no. 2. There has been enough of that in my life already, to willingly seek out more of the stuff.

But it was still nice to - feel, thinking that maybe Angel felt a little bit of it - too.

I'm in no way delusional enough to think he will ever get over Buffy. But I'm also real enough to understand that sometimes life doesn't deal us the cards we want. Angel and Buffy can't be together, not now, anyway, and only the PTB know when his Shanshu will occur, if ever. Not that I don't trust Wesley's translations, but he's been wrong before and the thing with prophecies is - most of them are not what they seem.

So, seeing all that, I finally let myself fall for Angel, something I wouldn't have thought possible a few years ago. But it's only a sign how much has happened, and how much these events have changed me, made me a new person. And they made me see things, made me understand that sometimes you just have to accept something, hoping it will all work out in the end. And so, I let myself fall in love with Angel.

It wasn't one of those big, remarkable love-stories, the way he fell for Buffy when he first saw her. The way she always seemed to light up like a Christmas tree when he was around. No, with us, it happened gradually, we hardly realized it happened at all. We - that's to say I - was completely taken by surprise and it took Fred, and Lorne, and finally Groo to accept what everyone seemed to see but me.

And here I was, feeling nervous and excited at the same time, eager to get to Angel to tell him what I just found out when - once again - the PTB thought it was just funny to screw up Cordelia's life.

What is it - I wonder - with them? Do they sit together and say 'hey, we haven't had fun with Cordy for a while, let's do something to make her life real miserable'?

Okay, so life up here isn't that bad. If you can forget about all the whiteness surrounding you, the big nothing, endless, timeless, and the strange habit to wear hair almost to your knees. But all in all it isn't really bad. And you can eat what you want because you can't gain weight up here. So, it's not a bad thing, but I miss my friends, and I miss Angel ... and I hate that Buffy gets to be at his side, a place that should be rightfully mine now.

I sigh, pushing the masses of now white hair behind my shoulders, when a voice from above almost lets me jump out of my skin.

"ENTER - lower being."

I frown at the voice coming out of nowhere. Didn't they just make me a Higher Being? They can't mean me, right?

I haven't even finished the thought when the voice speaks again. "You were ordered to enter!"

Ordered, huh? Feeling anger bubbling up in me, Cordelia Chase never listened to orders in her life, I still can't ignore the slightly queasy feeling in my stomach, and slowly push the door - or what goes for a door up here - open.

With cautious steps I enter a room, and the not-whiteness of it almost blinds me. If it wasn't for one of my few visits down to earth, I would have forgotten about colors completely. But Angel's last dream was so vividly full of them ... and I have promised myself not to think about that again.

Taking a deep breath I let my eyes sweep around the room. It's huge with marble floors, blue walls and a pinkish kind of ceiling. I *so* wouldn't want to live like that, but it's still better than all the endless white I've been surrounded with for months now.

On a huge seat that looks more like a throne sits - a Being. There is no other word to describe the sexless creature looking at me with disturbingly blue eyes. It's a blue I have never seen before, almost turquoise, and they are about three times as big as human eyes. The hair is as blue as the eyes, falling down to the ground besides the throne, giving a stark contrast to the greenish sort of dress the creature is wearing.

Talk about color blindness.

"Lower Being, you requested to see the Powers," the creature speaks in an almost child-like voice, frowning down at me heavily.

Giving it the best of my own frowns back, I raise my chin, "Yes. I need to talk to them. And just for the record, I'm a Higher Being, there is nothing lower in me. Never was."

The creature rises a strangely shaped brow - it's blue as well, and thick in a way I have never seen before - its look so haughty I feel my hackles raise. "Speech like that is not encouraged here."

Now one of my brows rises, "Oh, really," I mock, "Well, maybe you should have thought about before you decided to screw up my life and bring me up here."

The scowl deepens, something I wouldn't have thought possible only a minute ago, and the child-like voice rises slightly. "If you want to contact the Powers you should consider appropriate behavior, or you will find out that your request will not be granted." After a beat the creature continues, "The Powers have heard your request and they will now talk to you."

"Fine," I reply trying to sound bored. No need to let others know my knees feel like rubber all of a sudden. Somehow the idea of talking to the mighty powers doesn't seem so attractive anymore.

I look around, but can't find a door, "Where do I meet them?"

The creature leans forward, then gets to its feet and I realize the hair is as long as the Being is tall. For one crazy moment I can see it stumbling over all that hair, falling face down, looking not so haughty anymore, and I have to suppress a giggle. "Follow me, lower being."

"You know, I've had it now with your 'lower being' crap. Once and for all, I was, and will never be, lower."

I can see the creature stop, turn slowly to me and I wonder if speaking my mind was the wisest move right now, but to my relief I get only another of those haughty brows, before we start to walk towards one corner of the room where I can see a deep red seat appearing out of something that looks like mist. After a moment the blue-haired creature sits down and closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens it again, they have changed to almost black, unseeingly staring into my direction.

"Object, you have summoned us."

The voice has changed, too, it's deep now, almost dangerous, and I have to gulp. "Uhm ... yeah."

"What is your request?"

I swear I remembered it only a second ago, but staring into those lifeless eyes, my heart starts hammering in my chest, and not in a good way.

"Speak up, object."

Object? "Hey, who are you calling object?" I cry without thinking first. Wanting to bite my tongue as soon as the words are out, I still force myself to go on. "I ... uh ... need to go down to earth. I want ...back." Seeing the eyes darken even more, I add hastily, "I don't want to be ungrateful, really, but ...and it's not bad up here. But I'm needed down there."

The creature in front of me blinks, and I do the same when the eyes suddenly change to green.

"This is for personal matters. The fate of a single human is of no consequence for us."

"Yeah, I already got that," I reply, swallowing against the tremble in my voice, "But Angel ... isn't human, and he needs me ... he's going to fall for Buffy again and then ... it'll end up with you losing a warrior."

Once again the creature blinks, and now the eyes glow red. "The warrior you are talking about is the vampire Angel. The problem has already been taken care of."

"Of course I'm talking about Angel," I start when the words suddenly sink in, "He's the only vampire ...and what do you mean 'the problem has already been taken care of'?" Do they mean that ... I swallow - hard.

Once again the black eyes are staring at me, and only now I realize the blue haired creature is channeling different personas. "When the prophecy about the child of two vampires was fulfilled we had to make sure that he would take care of the boy."

Does that mean what I think it does? Does it mean that since Connor's birth ... "You fixed Angel's soul?" I ask hardly recognizing my own voice. "I thought you didn't interfere with personal matters."

"This was no personal matter. It was done for the fate of the world. The child is very important."

Okay, breathe, Cordelia. And I am - breathing. Deeply. Trying to suppress the anger, bubbling up in me, almost consuming me, and I want to congratulate myself when my voice still sounds controlled, "Does that mean his soul was safe from the moment Connor was born?" Does that mean he could have been truly happy? That we could have ...

"Yes, that is correct," green eyes are telling me. "The vampire is allowed to experience true happiness now. It had to be done."

"But he doesn't know," I cry in indignation, the feeling half for Angel, half for myself. Just to think about the possibilities. And instantly outrage comes into the mix. Because ... without a doubt he's going to have his happiness with Buffy now.

So, maybe we shouldn't tell him... If he still thought - I mean ...

I immediately regret I even thought that way. This was the old Cordelia coming through for a moment. This is about Angel, not about me. But I can't help feeling sad that I will not be the one to share this happiness with him. Not to forget to find out what a vampire with 250 years of sexual experience can do. Because even when I couldn't even imagine ever getting intimate with one I always wondered ...

"He will know when the time is right," the once again red eyes say.

Uh-huh ... with Buffy of course. I don't even try to suppress the sigh that's coming from the depths of my soul. "So that means my request for going back to earth won't be granted, huh?"

"It is not our power to grant wishes, nor is it our aim. But if you feel you cannot stay in this realm, nothing is holding you."

Huh? "You mean I can *decide*? Wow, that's one day I have to mark in my calendar." I know, I know I sounded sarcastic at best, but why should I care. Plus there are some slight problems, "And if I choose to go back, how do I get rid of this," I flung my hair behind my shoulders, "and the weird sparkling thing?"

"Your special powers will be lost as soon as you leave us," black eyes tells me. "But choose wisely. Don't decide in haste. Once you've left this realm you will never be allowed to return. All your special powers will be taken from you."

But I get to go back and ... oh, wait, "You mean I'll lose my half-demonic status? And the migraines are coming back?"

The black flashes to yellow - a new color in the range - "You will lose all your powers. Leaving us will mean you will become human again. The vampire doesn't need the visions anymore. He will have -other resources."

And I thought Angel was the cryptic guy. Other resources? What the hell does that mean? And what good am I for then? Will he need me at all? And what will be my purpose in life without the visions? Not that I'm doing a lot up here. But I understand I'm still in the training stage - my guardian has already hinted I will get to do work soon. "You ... uh ... mean I'm just plain old Cordelia Chase."

"Correct."

"But-"

Suddenly the eyes return back to the initial blue. "Your time is over," the creature tells me, now herself again.

"But I had some more questions," I protest, slamming my hands on my hips, giving her my best glare. It never failed to impress people, but this sexless being doesn't seem to be concerned at all. It gets up from the seat, and I hear a weary sigh - I can relate, channeling information from the Powers can be a little stressful.

"You wanted to ask for personal purpose," it informs me. "The Powers can't be bothered with such trivial matters."

"Triv-," the world sticks in my throat, indignation rising again. "Hey, I'm a Higher Being - isn't there a rule or something that with people like ... uh ... us nothing is trivial?"

"And yet you requested to be released from your duty," it replies with a look of disapproval on its face. "You were summoned because the Powers saw something in you, although," again a sigh, this time not weary, rather dismissive, "I cannot see why."

"Hey! I have you know that I got visions for over two years. I was an important part of Angel Investigations. I helped to save people. All you have done so far is channeling the Powers or giving me these ...," I gesture at the creature, "these looks with those eyes."

"There is nothing wrong with my eyes," it mutters, and I almost have to grin when I recognize a hint of vain in its voice. "But if you think your special gift was so important ... Why do you want to leave? You must know that you can do a lot more good up here."

"Yeah, I know." And I do. I mean, I'm probably able to help people now, really help. Not just having visions and ... okay, so I fought, but when it came to it, it was always Angel who got to save the damsel in distress, so to speak. Now I'm probably stronger than he. Stronger than Buffy, which - I have to admit - is a pretty attractive thought. Maybe I could even kick her ass for a change. But still ... "But I miss my friends. And -"

"You put the wellbeing of your person above the sake of mankind," the creature says - the disapproval now thick in its voice. "Maybe it would be for the best if you left. Such as you can do more harm than good."

Feeling outraged again, because I feel judged unfairly, I'm about to speak, when a short

"Dismissed"

rings through the air and I find myself back in the endless whiteness. Obviously my time to speak to the ones in power is over, leaving me more confused than ever, not having the faintest clue what I'm going to do now.

*****

Spike:

It's still silent in the lobby - even after Buffy has once again disappeared in Angel's apartment. She left without any comment after Red's revelation, her face frozen, her movements jerky, she still held her head high, her shoulders stiff, her back ramrod straight. She was tough and strong, and I've never loved her more. If I wasn't in love with her already, I would've fallen then - hard and fast. There is so much beauty in her, such depth, I'm not sure any of her friends realize.

I have the feeling that for some of them she's still just a freaky teenager, a strong girl sure, but I don't know if any of them even know - even want to know - what being a Slayer really means. Not that I really know, either. Being a vampire for hundred odd years changes your perspective. Getting ensouled - however - is nothing like anything I've ever imagined. It's hard enough for me to live in constant darkness, to see death, destruction, blood and pain. To remember deeds most people can't even imagine. I remember them in vivid colors, in every detail, and I even remember the pleasure I felt then. That's the hardest part of it, to know you enjoyed things like rape, maiming and killing, things you want to forget, things that make you throw up just thinking about them now.

I used to laugh about my grand-sire, used to mock him for the way he changed after Romania.

But not anymore.

There is no laughter left in me. There is only darkness. And grief. And pain. Guilt. Remorse. And there are days I wonder if greeting the sun would be easier. But then I see Buffy, just a girl, who, because it's her sacred duty, faces all these things, and still stands strong, never gives up, and I feel deeply ashamed for even considering to end my own existence. And so without knowing Buffy became my anchor, my reason for going on, for not giving up - and she was the reason I went back to Sunnydale knowing without doubt I wouldn't be taken in with open arms.

But she still took me, and she will never know how grateful I am for that. That instead of staking me on the spot, she once again let me into her house, into her life. Even after what I did to her, something I can't even think about without feeling sick all over again. Night after night, when the house is dark, when nothing moves but the hands on the old clock, I sit there in the darkness and I see her face, see the anger, but also the fear, the panic, and it's all I can do not to scream in agony. I don't know why but this memory is even worse than all the other horrible things I've done. Maybe because it's fresh, but maybe because I did it telling her I loved her. Maybe that's the reason I think it's unforgivable.

When I was still William, the poor and starving, always lovesick, poet in the streets of London was a pathetic human being who knew nothing about love. I thought it was something grand, something dramatic, and because of that my poems never became successful. I had not the slightest idea what I was writing about, it was as if I was reciting lines from a bad romance novel.

As a vampire I was certain I was in love with Drusilla. That our love was special and eternal. I found out the hard way that it wasn't. And even though I still think fondly of her sometimes, I also know that if she would return tomorrow, I would probably stake her. Not because I want to prove something to Buffy. No, I would do it because it would be right, because thinking of the next human she is going to kill makes me want to heave. When my soul was returned to me, I never imagined it could hurt that much. I didn't have a clue what having a soul after more than a century of being soulless meant. I should have listened to Angel, should have learned, but of course in typical Spike fashion I knew it better. Thought it would be a piece of cake.

Piece of cake.

Yeah.

Right.

It was anything but. I didn't think a human soul could feel such pain and guilt and still be alive. Of course I'm technically dead. But you get the point. Given the fact that my grand-sire has more than a century on me, and that he was a real bastard, I can only guess what he went through hundred years ago in Romania, when there was no hope, no Sunnydale, no Buffy.

Not that there is a Buffy in my life. She barely looks at me these days, but I can't blame her. Yet, being close to her, seeing her light, and her determination not to give up, I feed from her strength, rebuild myself in her power. She vibrates with energy even when she seems tired and worn, and I can understand what Angel saw in her, why he fell for her the way he did. I even understood when I was still soulless, but now - I know I wouldn't have made it without her.

"Can I ...," I hear a voice behind me and turning around I find Connor, Angel's brat, watching me cautiously, his eyes never staying on me, always flickering around the room, and he's shuffling his feet nervously. I can hear his heart beating unsteadily, and I can smell his nervousness. "That is," he goes on, "I ... would like to ask you something."

I look at him for a long moment, and he shifts uncomfortably under my gaze. I have to suppress a grin, it always pays to have experience in intimidating people. But strangely I don't feel comfortable in treating him that way - not anymore. Even though I know what he did, I feel a weird connection to him, maybe it's the guilt we both carry around - who knows. "Well, ask."

He clears his throat, stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and when he speaks I can hear and smell the difficulty with which each word is torn from his soul. "You ... you know that ... I ... what I did. I'm not proud of it ... but when I ... I mean then ... I thought it was right. That I had the right to act that way. And that Angel ... that my father ... is nothing but a monster. Now ... now ...", he stops looks at me almost pleadingly.

"You're not so sure anymore, huh? You've learned one thing and now - suddenly - nothing seems black and white anymore."

He nods, "That's what Gunn said be. He. He said sometimes shades of gray are more interesting."

Deep thoughts for a sixteen year old, but then, Connor isn't like other boys his age. Not by a long shot. I think even the Nibblet got the better deal. At least she had a family, a big sis, she could always count on. "Yeah, well. I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask. I could be slightly biased."

"Because you are a vampire," he replies, but his voice has lost all the venom that was there in the beginning. It's sad now, and incredibly weary. "But you have a soul, too. I didn't think it made a difference, but now," he shrugs, "Now I wonder. Can you - tell me."

"Well, kiddo," I give him a slight smile, "I'm not sure I can explain this. Only a few months ago I was so sure I knew all the answers, but now," now everything seems hard and painful, but somehow better, too. But how can I explain him that? How can I make him understand that having a soul is ... like suffering from Schizophrenia. You try to shake it off, but your evil self is always inside of you, whispering, taunting, tempting ...

"Now ... what?" he asks tentatively.

"Now ... everything that was, everything *I* was ... suddenly seems tainted, I've lived more than hundred years as a soulless beast and I was proud. Now all that's left is shame, and grief, and pain, and the knowledge that whatever I'm doing I can never make up for what I've done. I've destroyed lives. Those people are dead and have long turned to dust. I can't bring them back, can't give parents back their children, and I have to live with that."

"And you ... can?"

"Let's just say I'm trying to stumble through every day. Then one day turns into another, and I'm still there. It's a success, really. I've managed to go another 24 hours and didn't try to greet the sun." And that's what I'm doing. Trying to get through the next hour, the next minute. Each of them is a success. And maybe some day I will even find a way to see a purpose in my miserable existence. I sometimes wonder if Angel would help me. And then I wonder if I even want him to.

I know his job is saving souls, but somehow I don't want to be his job. I don't want him to save my soul because he thinks it's his . I . I want him to do it because he wants to, because ... I matter to him. And I know - deep inside - that it will never happen. Not after what happened with Buffy. I'm not sure what he feels for her these day, although I can't see it could be anything but love, but I know him enough, know enough about his inner core, to realize that he'll never forgive me. For taking advantage of her in the first place, and if he hears about the rape ...

"It's hard, huh?"

The boy is still looking at me and I force myself away from my maudlin thoughts. No use in reverting back into William the bloody poet. Self pity never helped anyone.

"Yeah, it's hard. More than that actually. And you know what," I wait until his eyes lock with mine, "If I was you, I'd be proud of what your dad does, what he has managed to do with his life, that he's accomplished so much. He's ... always been remarkable in his own way, but this," I let my eyes sweep over the lobby, over the people assembled there. Willow still sitting at the computer, Xander leaning over her shoulder, the little demon watching them sadly and with a little jealousy. Maybe she's noticed it too, the way they smile at each other, the way they seem a lot more comfortable with each other than without.

The watcher guys sit in the office discussing prophecies and other unpleasant stuff, while the lovesick couple whispers together now, obviously still trying to digest the news.

Dawn is the only one on her own. She sits out in the courtyard, her feet dangling from a little wall, and she seems deep in thought.

I remember Connor still standing next to me, and give him another smile, "Your dad is a good man. Or a good soul, whatever you're prefer. You should give him a chance - he might surprise you."

"Yeah," the boy nods, swallows thickly, then clears his throat again, "That's what I intend to do. If he's going to be alright."

"He will," I promise, "Don't worry. He's tough."

Connor nods again, then without another word turns towards the cellar, towards Angel's training room. After a moment I follow him. Might as well use the time for some workout, check out the boy's reflexes. Won't want a member of the family get hurt. I chuckle at that.

Family.

I once knew what it was. Or at least I thought I did. Now I'm suddenly learning it's something entirely different. Something I've learned to appreciate a lot over the last months.

Something I desperately want to belong to.

Because loneliness is the scariest thing.

Following Connor downstairs, I wonder who said that once. Whoever he was, he was a very wise person.