The Wheel
Disclaimers: I don't own them. You did know that, right? Oh, and I borrowed the concept of the ghostroads from The Gatekeeper Trilogy of Buffy books by Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder…but then I sort of adapted them to fit my story… The tarot images and definitions are from the "Ancestral Path Tarot" by Julie Cuccia-Watts, with text by Tracey Hoover. All are used without permission. I think I own everything else, but I could be wrong.
Spoilers: IWRY somewhat. Aside from that, general season 4/season 1.
Content: *Major* character death, angst, and B/A fluff. NutMeg called it "sad fluff." Isn't that an odd combination?
Notes: Another dream inspired fic. Feel free to run and hide now. Special thanks to NutMeg for beta reading this for me! You really helped my confidence with this story.
A note on the format of this story: Since this is a rather long fic, or will be eventually, and the parts are very short, it is divided into sections. Think like a novel that is divided into books and then into chapters. So, "The Wheel" is one story. Don't let the "book" titles confuse you.
Part One
XII The Hanged One: Transistion. A period of rest between significant events, a time when action is inadvisable. Surrender to inevitable circumstances in/voluntary sacrifice descent to the depths of the self altered perceptions by examining things from a different (upside down) viewpoint. Can also indicate boredom, stagnation, stasis, inability to change, lack of development or evolution.
Cordelia wouldn't admit it, but she was terrified. When Angel had cried out…. She'd never heard anything like it. It was pain, it was fear, it was despair…it was all of these and more. And it had been sudden - he'd just screamed and dropped with no apparent cause.
Forty-five minutes later she and Wesley had just managed to get their employer - their friend - back to the apartment. Cordelia cursed that they had decided to walk to where whatever evil they had to fight was waiting…which never bothered to show. They'd had to walk back as well, dragging Angel unconscious between them. Her feet ached, her shoulders ached, and she was so tired she could sleep for a week.
No, scratch that she wouldn't be able to sleep at all until they found out what was wrong with Angel.
She and Wesley struggled to get him into his bed. He was, she reflected with bitter humor, a dead weight. Once she'd done that she walked out of the bedroom, wearily taking a seat at the kitchen table. She hung her head in her hands.
Wesley came out and joined her several minutes later. "I can't find anything…physically wrong with him," he said. "There's no sign of injury or poison…no illness would effect him…" his voice trailed off.
"Then what happened to him, Wesley?" Cordelia demanded. "People…vampires...don't just scream like that without reason."
"I don't know," Wesley said, sounding as tired as Cordelia felt. He sat up straighter after a moment and spoke in a tone meant to reassure her. "I will begin researching immediately," he said.
Cordelia nodded. "One of us should stay with him tonight," she said softly.
"You go home and rest," Wesley insisted. "I need Angel's books if I'm going to research this properly anyway."
Cordelia stood, her legs aching in protest. She said nothing, but let her eyes reveal her gratitude. She crossed the room, taking one last look into the bedroom before she left. Angel lay on his side, curled up under the covers so that only his face was showing. His brow was creased in…pain? She sighed wearily. She cared for him more than she would ever admit. He was like family. He certainly did more for her than her family ever had.
Now it was time for her to return the favor, and she hadn't the slightest idea of where to begin.
Go
here for more of Cynamin's stories.This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home Page
