The Wheel
Preface: Death
by Cynamin

"And then Clint says, 'I thought gifts were only for the anniversary dates.' I mean, hello?" Cordelia was saying. "I can't have him take me for granted. Of course, then I had a vision, and that just called off the date for good."

"You know, we are hunting demons, Cordelia," Wesley whispered.

"So?" Cordelia replied in her normal tone of voice.

"Don't you think you might be scarring them off with this chatter?"

"Oh, please," Cordelia replied, rolling her eyes.

Angel smiled slightly, listening to all of this from a couple of steps ahead of them. They were following the very vision that had interrupted Cordelia's date, and she wasn't about to let him forget it. He was sympathetic, but he would have been more so if the vision had been clearer.

"You sure you don't remember anymore?" Angel asked again. They'd been walking down this street for a half an hour based on the street sign she'd seen. "Some…clue?"

"You're one to talk," Cordelia replied testily. "Mr. Cryptic."

"You'd think that the Powers That Be would be clearer in their messages, wouldn't you?" Wesley said after a moment.

"You would," Angel agreed.

"At least we know it has to be in the city, right?"

Angel was going to agree when he remembered another vision - one of Doyle's visions. It was the one time that a vision had led him out of L.A. He had gone to Sunnydale…to Buffy. He tried not to think about her, to think about those few days, but he couldn't help it. His mind and heart automatically went to her. They always would.

A scream tore from his throat suddenly, but Angel did not hear it. Nor did he hear Cordelia cry out as he collapsed right in front of her. He only felt the pain - all consuming - and an anguish he could not explain.

The Slayer was dead, and the darkness consumed them both.

Continues in Book One: The Hanged One

Feedback

Go here for more of Cynamin's stories.

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page