By Masked Spangler
A list friend challenged me to
write a fic where Cordelia is not maimed, hurt, injured, sick, visioned or
otherwise harmed. Here is the result...
Standard disclaimers (not mine, Joss is god etc.) apply. Archiving at my web
site members.nbci.com/mspangler/fics/
and elsewhere if you ask first. No spoilers, really. We're post-Epiphany.
He marched commandingly into the lobby of the Hyperion, clipboard in hand, and
accosted the first person he saw.
“Hi. I am looking for…Angel, I believe is the name?”
“Um, hi…Can we…help you?” He consulted his clipboard, glancing back and forth
between the cute little brunette with the high heels and tight skirt, and the
vital stats he had been provided with: Large. Dark. Man.
“You are not Angel. Please get him now,” he demanded.
The woman drew herself up to her full, not very impressive height and did her
best to look imposing. “Look, Buddy, I don’t know who you are or what you want
with Angel, but in my world, there’s this thing called manners…”
He sighed. “I don’t have time for this. I’m a busy man, you know. Besides,” he
added, “It’s not like I haven’t done my research on how these things work. And
in deference to your “world” I even made an appointment!”
She narrowed her eyes. “And did you bother to tell Angel about the appointment?
Because I’m the one who keeps track of these sorts of things, and if you had, I
would…”
Something occurred to him, and he flipped through the pages on his clipboard.
Vital Stats, Interventions, Upcoming Portents…ah, there it was: Conscripted
Operatives. And this warrior only had one female operative, and it was…
“Oh dear.” He fidgeted awkwardly. “I apologize, I didn’t realize you were the
seer. They’re usually…taller. And…demon. I think you’re the first human one
I’ve met,” he said, ogling her with some fascination. “I’m Oberon, pleased to
meet you. “ He brandished a business card, which she snatched suspiciously.
“Oberon. Oracles, Earth Outpost. Infraction Review Division,” she read.
“You’re…” her eyes widened.
“Yes, yes,” he muttered impatiently. “An emissary to the Powers-That-Be,
soldier in the good fight, yadda, yadda, yadda. You know the drill. Now, please
summon Angel so we can commence the review. I’ll need to interview you as
well.”
“Whoa, slow down,” she said. “The review? What review?”
Oberon flipped efficiently through the pages on his clipboard, reciting the
details as he found them. “Item 1, the warrior Angel renews acquaintance with
one Darla, number 3 on the list.”
“List?” interrupted Cordelia.
“Yes, yes, the list of entities a specific warrior on probation is forbidden
from associating with.”
“You guys keep a list?”
He blinked. “Why wouldn’t we? Item 2, the warrior Angel consumes valuable hours
tracking said individual and item 3, he ignores direct communiques from our
office warning him away from her.”
“The vision in the car,” whispered Cordelia.
“Item 4,” continued Oberon, “He becomes involved in a massacre that he was not
meant to be involved in. This leads directly to item 5, the severing his link
to the Powers-That-Be. Should I go on, or do you see the purpose of this visit?
He has committed infractions.”
“And you are here to investigate why?”
“Well, we know why,” he said. “The battle can be difficult, and we understand
that there are gray areas. But if all the warriors did their own thing…it would
be chaos. That’s why it’s so important to follow the proper procedure, which he
clearly did not do. THAT is what I’m investigating. This whole mess could have
been avoided as early as item 1 if he had only followed the proper procedure.”
“Which was?”
Oberon glared impatiently. “My goodness, didn’t you people read the manual at
all?”
She started back at him blankly. “Manual.”
“The Policy and Procedure Manual. You didn’t read it? Subsection 87892, clause
7363545-C clearly states that all suspected magical irregularities are to be
reported to the warrior’s sponsor. If he had reported the Calynthia-induced
dreams, we would have been able to solve this long before…”
“Back up for a second, there’s a manual? You never gave us a manual!”
Oberon sighed the deep and righteous sigh of one who is being excessively
patient. “Look, I just work for infraction review. Orientation, they are the
ones in charge of the manual, and we have nothing to do with them. We’re not
even in the same building!”
Cordelia looked dubious, and he hastily added “Of course, you can always get
another copy of the manual from your sponsor. It’s even available on CD-ROM.”
“We have a sponsor? Nobody told us we had a…”
He sighed again. “Look, do you people need everything spelled out for you? Does
the sponsor need to come marching through that front door wearing a sign saying
‘I am the sponsor’ in order for you to figure things out?”
“All right,” muttered Cordelia. “Enough with the attitude! Are you going to
stand here and make fun of me, or are you going to actually tell me something
useful like who the sponsor is and what we’re supposed to do with him, her or it?”
He pulled up a chair. “All right,” he said. “We can talk. But only until Angel
gets here. “Now, let’s see…Sponsors…well, it appears that Angel really is a
difficult one to manage. It says here that you’ve had FIVE sponsors quit on
you.”
She raised an eye. “Oh?”
“Yes. There was that Whistler fellow, but he wasn't really a sponsor, more like
a first contact sort of guy. Works in recruitment actually, just down the hall
from me. Hell of a guy. We’ve had lunch a few times, and…”
“And I care about that because…?”
“Right. Then there was Jenny Calendar, a gypsy witch. They about gave up after
what he did to…” He noticed her troubled look and remembered a note that she
had been there for that incident. He hurried on.
“And then…let’s see,” he flipped pages. “There was the half-witch, Amy Madison.
She was even willing to stay on after her accident, and if he had been smart
enough to figure out her signals…Anyway, by that time he had been through so
many that we sent in a big gun.”
After a prolonged paper rustle, he found the name. “Tara. We sent her in, but
just before she got there, he moved here. So we gave him Merl…”
“Merl works for you? MERL????”
“And he quit, citing personal reasons. So now you have your current sponsor.
The host at Caritas.” He smiled benignly.
“So what’s the sponsor supposed to do?” interrupted Cordelia.
“Well, answer questions like this,” he sniped. “And keep an eye on things,
mostly. The warrior is of course supposed to consult his sponsor when
irregularities or questionable situations arise.”
“The host knew what was going on with Angel,” Cordelia pointed out. “At least,
he knew that Angel was…changing.”
“So? The host may have great powers, but he is little more than karmic mood
ring. Some things…well, some things he can’t tell you. It’s like therapy, you
see. You can’t have the therapist decide what’s bothering you. But if you give
them something to work with….”
“But Darla…she seduced him! It was…”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s why he has a sponsor. You think we trust dumb lugs like
him to keep proper control of things? Of course not!”
She pouted. “There’s that attitude again.”
“And don’t get all superior with me,” he lectured. “Policy clearly states that
the seer is to be the warrior’s failsafe. It is highly likely that you have
committed one or several infractions in this matter by not informing the
sponsor yourself.”
She nearly growled in frustration. “Look, we didn’t know there was a policy, or
a manual, or a sponsor. And I…I wasn’t supposed to be a seer in the first
place, never mind a last-chance failsafe keeper of his soul. I have enough
trouble keeping my own…”
She trailed off, and he felt a faint drip of sympathy creep onto him. “I know,”
he said. “You weren’t meant to…well, as I said, I’ve never seen a human seer
before…they are cutting you some slack. And if you weren’t properly
orientated…well, I’ll certainly include that in the report. I don’t mean to
insult you. It’s just that the policies we have…they were developed over
centuries of trial and error, of learning from our mistakes. A warrior, even a
good one…they can’t possibly compete with that. That’s why there is a system.”
“Which we didn’t know about,” repeated Cordelia.
“Look,” he concluded. “You guys were drafted into this fight kinda quick, and
when the fate of the world is at stake there isn’t always time for formalities.
You aren’t expected to know everything. It’s why you have a sponsor, and
really, the host…you should have figured out by now that he has more than just
a passing interest in your activities.” He paused. “Is Angel…”
She shrugged, a little dazed by his revelations. “He should have been back by
now.”
“Well, I have another appointment to keep. Will you be all right now?”
She nodded. “Uh huh. But…what about your review?”
“I think I have all the information I need,” he said gently. “And you…you
deserve a night off, love. Perhaps kick back, have a drink…”
He regarded her curiously. “I know, it’s been a rough few months, hasn’t it?
And you’ve felt alone. But you aren’t alone, love. You aren’t alone.”
When she looked up, he was gone, and she had a sudden urge for karaoke.
the end