Between the Teeth of Lions: Part One: Vision Girl

[jesterladyfic]

Between the Teeth of Lions
by jesterlady
Summary: Cordelia Chase decides to become a demon. That decision takes her across realities, but will the journey take her too far from where she truly wants to be and will she ever be able to make it home?
Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed or ATS. A lot of lines are from either show. The title is from John Bunyan.
A/N: Nobody can tell me they didn't immediately think of Cordelia when Charisma Carpenter showed up on Charmed as Kyra, the Seer. My supposition is that they are indeed the same person, Cordelia's desire to be demonized already on her birthday going a bit wonky.



Part One: Vision Girl

Cordelia’s of two minds about the whole situation. For one thing she’s got a splitting headache. For about one solid year now. And that’s particularly annoying for more than one reason. She feels guilty too because she knows the pain she’s hiding is more serious than she can handle alone but she refuses to let the people in her life know about it. She didn’t lose all of her pride along with her money. No, she just stores it inside her now and every new burst of pain in her skull is like another nail in that coffin burying it inside her.

Besides, the other side of it all is the glorious purpose she feels every time she has a vision and it ends up saving someone’s life. Every time she gets Angel one step closer to the redemption he craves. Every time Cordelia Chase does something more for someone other than herself. She’s happy now in a way she never was back in Sunnydale or even before she’d gotten zapped with 24/7 vision hell that one time. She knows the pain that is out there and the pain she’s currently living in is nothing to that.

So she looks at herself in the mirror and everything she’s feeling is two-fold, everything’s contradicting itself. Her head is slowly killing her, but even the grossness of her hands from cleaning up after Angel doesn’t diminish the inner glow of self-satisfaction. Actress or not, she’s good at hiding things. She doesn’t have to earn any awards for that, doesn’t have to bring out the speech Fred enjoyed so much. She just has to lie to the people who love her.

She slowly brings the pills up to her mouth and dry swallows them. She’s gotten really good at that. She’s not thinking about the lies today. She’s thinking about the good she’s doing. Period.

When she opens the door and squints at the new light beaming directly into her skull it doesn’t matter because everyone’s standing there with a cake and singing and it’s all for her. She’s the center of attention which she always likes except when it might bring attention to what she’s hiding. She blows out the candles and the only thing she wishes for is that she can live to do the good she’s doing.

She does get to hold Connor then and there’s nothing more guaranteed to make her smile. He’s warm and soft and smells like that heavenly new baby smell and the only feeling of discontent she feels is that little niggling urge to make her own babies that she’s convinced is purely biological and, therefore, completely ignorable. She’s Cordelia, she does that.

And Angel’s smiling at her, in that sheepish, bashful way that he never seems to do with anyone else and she loves it when it happens. It means he’s happy. Not too happy, mind, but just enough that the heavy burden he lays on himself isn’t too cumbersome. And he has a present for her. With any other male it might be one of those occasions where she has to smile and pretend she likes it, but Angel’s got amazing taste for some reason and she can’t wait to open it.

"Oh, Angel, you didn't have to do that. You have enough to take care of as it is."

"Well, I'm a champion. We do important stuff. Hey, and who's more important then-"

He’s interrupted by Wesley as the rest of the gang sequester around them with presents.

"You’ll have to forgive the wrapping. Some of us seem to have fostered a strange addiction to Scotch tape."

"Oh…what a cruel dilemma: presents or sweet little baby face." Then it spikes and hits her and she goes still as a statue, all thought of presents gone. This one will be bad. "Take the baby."

Dimly she can hear Angel doing the dad thing which she normally thinks is adorable but this isn’t really a good time because there’s a girl in danger and her own head is about to split open and the baby…the baby!

"Take the baby! Take the baby!” She feels Connor being taken from her and she starts her vision mental checklist. Despite the pain she’s quite good at it. “There's a teenager, a girl, she...she..."

Cordelia can’t talk anymore. In fact she can’t think anymore. She’s simply blind, floating in a pool of anguish and the images are overloading her synapses and she’s not Cordelia anymore, she’s just vision…just vision…just the vision.

But slowly there’s something else, there’s a light and a voice and it’s Fred and she’s talking.

"Is she all right?"

Strangely Cordelia feels fine. Better than fine. The constant migraine she’s been living with is practically gone…no, it is gone. She’s perfect.

"I'm fine, you guys. I'll be okay. I'm just..." Cordelia turns to see that she’s not perfect, she’s not where her body is, lying on the floor with everyone clustered above it, worry and fear on their faces. "…dead?"

This is not good. This is nowhere near good. Good has left the building and she might just be a little hysterical because even though it’s almost her job to deal with dead people, that’s her body lying there on the floor.

It’s a bit blurry after that, Angel’s yelling at her and Cordelia’s yelling back, and it’s not quite as much fun when he can’t hear her.

She tells herself it’s just some sort of supernatural deal and they’ll deal with it, but somehow…that vision and the ones before that… No, she’s not thinking about it. This is just some sort of backwards spell or Wolfram and Hart trick and she’ll be back to feeling that migraine in no time.

"Angel, is she..."

She and Angel both yell at Wesley.

"No!"

Though it’s good news to hear somebody else think she’s alive.

"I'm not?”

"She's still breathing. Her heart's still beating."

"Yes! But…if I'm not dead then..."

"She's just in some sort of trance or a coma."

"Like hell I am!"

"Well, let's get her over to the couch."

It’s too bizarre watching people carry her body. She starts to grasp at straws. Like funny-not-really-that-funny birthday gags. Gunn would so do that. Bet he got Lorne to help and what’s Angel saying about her vision?

"It was a vision, wasn't it? I mean, she just started saying something about a girl..."

Cordelia snaps back to attention because her visions are life and death and she doesn’t mess around about them. Not ever.

"That's right. She's in a house on Oak street, the middle of Reseda. It feels like we have some time here, but– but…you can't hear me at all, can you?"

They can’t hear her. Even Lorne, Mr. I Do This Kind of Mystic Crap For a Living When I’m Not Getting Drunk Off Of Seabreezes, can’t hear her and she’s so screwed right now.

Even more so because she’s alone, bodiless, and scared. And…was that a dark shadow that just swooped over her head? She’s starting to freak out past the point of her normal freak out point and that girl’s death is lying heavy on her heart like a two ton weight that she can’t ignore. She just needs to let them know…somehow.

She hears something.

Oh, Fred, don’t do that, don’t go there.

"What's Seltrex?"

Not really important, she swears.

"Seltrex is a highly powerful migraine medication."

"Maybe we should get her to a hospital,” Gunn says.

"So they can do what? Do what they did last time, strap her to a bed and tell us there's no hope?”

There’s a viciousness in Angel’s voice that only happens when somebody he cares about is in trouble. She should feel good about that, but it always scares her a little bit as well.

"Angel is right. Seltrex is potent but it doesn't cause catatonia."

Yes, Wesley, go ahead and make everything all about your giant head knowledge. Reveal everything that can incriminate the girl in the coma!

"I'm picking up some hardcore woo-woo vibes in the room,” Lorne adds, too late with his supernatural know-how to help her, thanks so much. “This ain't medical, kids. It's mystical."

Which actually does sound promising because that means Wesley will open his books and she takes back everything she just thought about his stupid head.

"That's what I'm saying. There is so much we don't know. If Cordelia is taking a drug this powerful in secret, the visions are probably doing a lot more damage than she lets on."

They should have just left Fred in Pylea. Freed her and all the cows, but just left her there. That’s Cordelia’s opinion and she’s sticking to it.

"This last one must have overloaded her."

"Don't say last! Okay? She'll come out of this. She has to."

She’s about ready to get sucked into Angel’s I’m-A-Champion-And-I’ve-Got-A-Plan world when he starts deciding to invade her privacy. Gunn and Fred snooping around her apartment? She hopes Dennis spooks them good.

Gunn and Fred leave and Wesley starts on his books like an addict, which, she swears, he’s almost worse than Giles. Angel picks her up and she tries really hard to feel some sort of sensation out of the deal, but she’s getting zip and she simply watches her body disappear up the stairs.

She’s got two problems that are interlinked. One, she’s having the world’s worst out of body experience. Two, there’s a girl who’s about to die.

"Does nobody care that there is a girl in Reseda that is about to be fed to a no-eyed, three-mouthed monster?”

There’s nothing, not the ability to leave a message, not the ability to communicate. A girl is going to die, maybe two, and Cordelia wants to scream.

But there’s nothing but quiet around her, the silent flick of Wesley flipping pages, the distant hum of Lorne as he croons to Connor.

She bows her head and she whispers quietly to herself because no one else can hear her.

“Please don’t let her die because of me. Because of my silence.”

There’s nothing to answer her but the faintest whispers starting to echo around her and somehow she doesn’t think that’s how God would be answering her if any answers were inclined to be given.

She allows herself exactly three minutes of self-pity, self-doubt, all other self-related fears, and then she puts that all away in the back of her mind because she’s Cordelia Chase and that’s what she does.

Then she goes to see what she can learn from whatever Wesley’s doing. Following her body won’t do any good and she knows exactly what Fred and Gunn are going to find. All of her hopes are pinned on Wesley.

Who apparently isn’t considerate enough to flip slowly enough for her to actually read what he’s reading. Stupid British Watcher speed-reading!

But she catches glimpses and thinks she may have an idea. After all, she's a rich kid from Sunnydale, but she’s much more than that, she’s what she would term supernaturally savvy.

So she goes upstairs and she’s just in time to see Angel get the phone call about her doctor visits and she really doesn’t like the look on his face.

It’s not her fault. Not really. She’s doing what she does best, taking care of herself. Her present coma may be mystical, and, yes, the source of her pain may be too, but her actual pain is all physical and that’s what she makes Angel give her medical insurance for.

But she stands behind him and she watches him hold her hand and the hunched shoulders and tense line of his jaw tell her everything she needs to know. She aches to be able to be able to put a hand on his shoulder or speak his name or anything…but she can’t.

"Cordy…look, I know that you can't hear me, but there is something I have to say. You really piss me off, you know that? I thought we trusted each other. But you've been lying. MRIs and CAT scans? It's been going on for over a year. Why couldn't you let me in? I could have helped you. You make me so furious."

She knows why he feels that way. She would too. She would rant at him for his brooding, vampire ways and how he can’t ever let anyone in and then he would offer some stupid, noble excuse and she would kick his ass verbally and then he’d smile and she’d melt and then it would all be fine cause they would fix it together. But...it’s not the same thing at all.

She won’t let it be. She can’t feel like it’s selfish to protect her visions, her gift, her reason for being here, her way to help him on his journey. There are people alive because of what she does and even if it kil- okay, not good to use the ‘k’ word right now, but even if it hurts, she won’t give it up because it helps people. It helps him. He needs her and he can’t see that because, for once, it’s not happening to him.

She has a purpose. She was chosen for this. Not her choice, but she’s learned to embrace it. All of it.

But her thoughts are thoughts for another day because she has to keep focused and remember her plan, remember that girl.

Of course, if Lorne can just reach her psychically, that will all be a moot point.

"Cordelia's not in there. She's just gone."

There goes that plan.

"I'm standing right in front of you," she protests. Angel sighs and rests his head on his hands. There’s whispers again floating around her and neither of them appears able to hear them. She whispers too. "And…I'm afraid."

It’s almost like he hears her. She knows he hasn’t. It’s simply the righteous ire that flows up inside him when he’s done waiting. She usually loves this moment where Angel starts Champion-ing up and making demands. Within reason, of course.

Still, she really hopes nothing bad happens to Lorne while he’s out crossing gods and calling in favors. It’s all for the sake of that girl. Not just Cordelia.

She stills for a long time, watching Angel who’s watching her body. It’s a bit eerie and slightly disconcerting and more than a little painful. Also boring. It gives her way too much time to think about her life and her death and all the regrets and things like that and she does not want to do that. She’s comfortable in the denial stage of her trance, thank you very much.

Thankfully he finally falls asleep and she’s able to put her plan into place. She doesn’t dwell too much on the total weirdness of putting her displaced astral self into her vampire friend’s body. It’s hard to describe how it feels unless it’s like driving an unfamiliar car, but she’s pretty sure nothing will be an exact analogy so she simply focuses on writing the address on the wall. It’s really hard to control Angel and she wonders if that’s just her inexperience at doing it, his stubbornness, or something about his being a vampire. Perhaps a combination of all of the above.

Maybe she should’ve done this while someone else was in the room, but it’s not like she exactly chose when Angel was gonna fall asleep.

Then she’s thrown out of his body and landing on the floor and it was all for nothing because Angel can’t remember anything, the stupid ninny. And Wesley has a whole new time frame about her death. Oh yay.

“I’m not ready yet,” she whispers.

Apparently the Powers That Be don’t agree with her assessment because a wind starts to whirl through the air and the shadows are growing where they are not supposed to be. She backs into the corner and sinks down the wall, more defeated than she’s been in a long time.

Also scared.

And then the demon comes with his mocking laughter and lame name and stupid jokes and current pop culture references.

"What is this? Who are you? What the hell is going on?"

"You have questions. I get that. And I'll answer them, too, but first we got to get out of here."

She really doesn’t like the sound of that. Even less than the idea of a demon named Skip.

"But why? Here is good. I feel really comfortable here. I-I like here."

"But you see there is a slight problem. You…don't belong here anymore."

"Because I'm dead?"

She dreads asking the question but she has to know for sure.

"Not yet. But you will be - very soon - unless you come with me."

She’s not done yet. She’s not ready. She’s said it about a million times now. And what about that girl?

"Well, I'll follow you on-on one condition. You have to tell my friends about this vision that I had."

"Sorry, no can do. I'm not a messenger. I'm just a guide."

He actually holds out his hand to her and she’s voluntarily touched a lot of demons in her time, but she’s still abiding by the usual rules about not getting into strangers with vans, though it might be more appropriate to insert an addendum to that rule about not going into unknown portals with demons you just met.

But she looks at her body again, at Wesley looking tense and strained at her side and thinks about Angel who was so upset with her.

"I don't wanna die."

“So don’t.”

She takes his hand and they leave the hotel, her life, behind.

But she wasn’t expecting the mall. No, not really. Not that she doesn’t love a good mall, but this is some sort of vision quest, no pun intended, and malls really don’t have much to do with the supernatural, despite the abnormally large number of demons she’s seen in them. The Judge springs to mind.
"Why did you bring me here?"

"To give you a choice. But we'll get to that later. Right now there is something I want you to see."

She looks at the screen and is instantly transported back to that dock and the feeling of that first and only kiss.

There’s definitely mixed feelings there. Some regret, a lot of affection, perhaps some lingering anger and hurt. Maybe even some guilt.

"Doyle."

She still has a whole lot of unresolved feelings about that time when it was just her, Angel, and Doyle. About Doyle himself. About what Angel means to her now. The visions have totally dominated every aspect of her life and all her memories so she hasn’t paid attention to anything else.

"This is where it happened, big cosmic whoops. Doyle was never meant to give you those visions."

Excuse her? What did that mean?

"Then why did the Powers let him?"

She’s not sure she likes his answer. A lot of her decision making for the past while has been based on the visions being meant for her, for Doyle’s sacrifice meaning something personal for her life. She might need to do a lot things differently if what Skip was saying was true. If she didn’t die, that is.

And she’s not sure she likes the idea of the visions being some sort of last love-gift and the Powers not being able to do anything about it with all their magical, mystical powers or whatever. She needs to know that she’s been doing the right thing. That the visions are okay for her to have. Otherwise her own sacrifice means nothing and the big cosmic whoops is actually her dying without ever needing to.

She also really doesn’t like hearing about other humans who’ve had the visions and wound up with lovely holes in the back of their heads. Skip has definitely got great character witnesses though, she’ll give him that.

All of this is stacking up to be the biggest demand of Give Up The Visions Now that she’s ever heard and it might be a good enough reason if not for Angel and her desire to help him.

Apparently Skip has even more angles to play. The demon is a manipulative genius and she should know. He shows her the screen again and this time it’s the night she met Angel again.

"Your entire life changed that night. In ways you couldn't imagine. Indescribably painful ways, I think you'll agree. Now, what if the play ran a little different?” He starts drawing lots of white lines everywhere on the screen and she spares an appreciative moment for his demonic powers but, otherwise, despite the many football games she’s attended in her life, she’s confused. “What would happen then?"

She has no idea what he’s talking about.

"I'd, ah, score a touchdown?"

"Metaphorically speaking, heck yeah! Inside every living thing there is a connection to the Powers That Be. Call it instinct, intuition. Deep down we all know our purpose in this world."

"Are you saying that…I was meant to be an actress?"

"No, I'm saying you were meant to be an incredibly famous and wealthy actress. And the Powers That Be can make that happen."

"They can do that? They can turn back time?"

"They don't go for that…much. Think of it as 'writing over history.' From this moment on you could live the life you always wanted. No monsters, no visions, no dying. Well, not for a long time, anyway."

It sounds perfect. It sounds fantastic. It sounds like something Wolfram and Hart would offer her. But she can already see the catch.

"But no Angel."

She turns away from him, because that’s no decision at all, but he catches her shoulder and speaks in that Super-Serious-You-Better-Listen-Right-Now voice she hates unless she’s using it.

"Cordelia, I want you to listen to me. If you go back inside your body, you won't wake up. You will lie there, unable to move, unable to speak, until the next vision hits you and then you will die."

She won’t accept that. She can’t.

"But that's not fair. How's Angel gonna know to save that girl if I don't tell him where she is? He needs me."

Maybe she’s getting through to him. Except he grabs her hands and they leave the pretty fantastic mall and she’s hit with the sensation of hot, humid, dirty air. Air that she normally associates with deep, underground, creepy, demon-y type places.

Angel is there. Pleading with the air. He’s finally cracked and gone crazy, she thinks, except voices answer him.

"The visions are too much. She's not strong enough to handle them."

"Obstinate. It speaks and does not listen."

Angel yells now and she knows that tone.

"No, you're not listening! Cordelia is not a champion. She is a rich girl from Sunnydale who likes to play superhero. She doesn't have what it takes to do this! Don't the Powers get that? Stop whispering and listen to me! She's weak."

She’s not hearing this. In fact, she refuses to hear this. But the words sink into her bones anyway, lodging in her heart and mind, and she can’t shake the memory of them no matter how hard she tries.

"Skip. Get me out of here. Now!"

He does and her last sight of Angel is his angry face. When she gets back to the mall, she doesn’t want to think, but the thoughts are running through her head.

Angel doesn’t think she’s strong enough. Angel doesn’t think he needs her. Angel doesn’t even want to need her. Angel would make her give up the visions. She’s doing him a favor. She wouldn’t lose anything by never knowing him after Sunnydale. Not if that’s the way he feels. Apparently, he won’t lose anything either. She’s scared to die. She’s not thinking about the poor girl who’s occupied so much of her thoughts today. Instead, she just needs to get away from Angel, away from the hurt pounding through her soul. The choice is obvious.

There’s no sensation of change but the world swirls around her and Cordelia opens her eyes on the applauding studio audience and she smiles because her life is perfect.

She does the show and she does it well, taking the time to sign some autographs afterward. She chalks it up to the late night before but she has the feeling that she’s forgetting something. It feels more important than anything she might have ever forgotten before.

Her assistant can’t help, his obnoxiousness balanced out by his over-efficiency. Her mind can’t stop thinking however and she comes up with a name.

On her way to the Hyperion she analyzes her day, her week, her year, and she can’t remember what would be different about today. Why today feels odd. She was used to things being odd back in Sunnydale, but ever since she came to LA, her life’s been demon and odd free. Unless one counted the being fabulously rich and famous part. She supposes that is a little bit odd.

But it’s been wonderful. Hard at first, but ever since that one night at that party, she’s been living an amazing life. Nothing worrisome about it. Until now.

The Hyperion is beautiful but she’s still following that niggling feeling in the back of her mind and the suite she bullies her way into draws her like nothing she’s ever known before. She doesn’t know why she has the sudden desire to rip apart the wallpaper but there’s an address underneath it and that tells her something is going on.

She’s never awkward, not really, she’s Cordy, but when the girl opens the front door she realizes she doesn’t have a leg to stand on about why she’s here. Being really famous will only get you so far.

So far to a demon-summoning ritual! She’s so over demons and even though she tries to get them both to safety, she ends up fighting demons once again. And getting bombarded with old crushes along the way.

She hasn’t thought about Wesley in years, but if his brain is still as whole as his arm is not, she’s gonna need his help to continue to figure out why she’s getting mixed up in this world again.

She explains everything to him while his partner takes care of the demon. Underneath it all she’s feeling a strange satisfaction as if her entire life all she’s wanted was to save this girl’s life tonight.

"Underneath the wallpaper was an address. This address. So, for absolutely no sane person reason I can think of, I come out here and whammo! Slimy monster fun time. What's up with that?"

"I'm not sure. I'd have to consult my books."

She has to smile at that.

"Some things never change."

Then she meets his partner, Charles Gunn, and they do the awkward reunion catching up bit which she really isn’t all that concerned about until she finds out there’s someone else from her past in town.

She’s always thought about Angel. He’s intrigued her since she met him and not just because of that gorgeous, apparently over two hundred years old physique. There was something really deep about a vampire with a soul, the capacity to love, the desire to make up for a past.

She got over the drama of him and Buffy fairly quickly and didn’t really think about it any further than that, but there was always something about him that made her wonder. Made her care about what happened to him. She didn’t know he was in LA, she figured he would be drawn back to Sunnydale and Buffy by now. She’s only kept in cursory touch with Willow since she left and doesn’t even pretend to care about what’s going on with Buffy and Xander. So, she’s totally in the dark about the Angel of now.

So she's surprised with the information Wesley gives her. And she’s a touch horrified. She doesn’t think that’s the right kind of life for anyone, vampire or no. She can’t help but think it would have been better if only Angel had had someone else he could depend on. She’s never called herself the most compassionate person on earth, but she wants to see him for herself. Maybe she was supposed to meet up with him and Wesley again. Maybe that’s what this strange feeling is about.

"Cordelia, I want you to think about this,” Wesley says as they enter his apartment. “Angel's not the person you knew. He came to Los Angeles in pain, vulnerable, and when Doyle, his only friend died he…he retreated into himself."

"Him getting the visions didn't help either," Charles puts in.

"So, let me get this straight. Angel gets the visions of people who are gonna die, and he tells you, and you go out and slay, and…this is how you make your living? This has got to be the suckiest job in the world."

You wouldn’t catch her doing it. Not ever.

"Don't be shocked by his condition,” Wesley says. “The visions have taken a toll…and the isolation. Sometimes he sends us out to save people he killed two hundred years ago. So, why don't we just tell him you stopped by and said hi?"

That would be the easy thing to do. Just leave and go home and take a bubble bath and go over her lines for tomorrow. Forget about seeing Wesley and this strange urge to see Angel. But she can’t.

"Wesley, I've gotta see him."

When Wesley opens the door Cordelia is hit by a horrible scene. It’s not quite what she expected even with Wesley’s warning.

Angel scutters away from the light as the door opens and crouches against the wall, writing on it with his finger. He’s still beautiful, still untouched by time, but his eyes aren’t right anymore. He’s barefoot and his clothes are filthy. Chains hang down from the wall and the only comfort in the room is a thin mattress on the floor.

She doesn’t even hear Wesley as he speaks. All she can focus on is the pitiful creature in front of her. So different from the man she remembers. Something more than those memories drives her forward though. Something she can’t explain.

"No, I- I won't. I won't do that. I won't do... I didn't mean... I didn't mean... Only if it's dead. It's me. It was my fault. It was me. I'm okay. I didn't mean... I didn't mean... Ah! I won't run away."

She walks toward him despite Wesley’s caution.

"Angel, do you remember me? Cordelia?"

He scrambles away from her and cowers in the corner.

"No, I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I'm afraid."

"Shh. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

"I'm fine. Fine. One seven one. One seven one. You'll see. You'll see, one seven one. My head doesn't hurt. My head doesn't hurt. Now I'm warm. My head doesn't hurt."

"You don't remember me, do you?"

And she wants to cry but she doesn’t fully know why.

"I was there. I wanted to die. But- but I was- was afraid to die. So afraid to die. One seven one."

"Shh, Angel, it's okay. Everything is gonna be okay."

She crouches beside him and leans closer than her comfort level and sense of smell would like.

"It was my fault. I was there. I couldn't do anything. There was nothing I could do."

"Everything is gonna be okay."

Because she knows now. Somehow, she knows, and it makes sense. It’s a horrible, terrible thing, but she knows exactly what needs to happen.

She leans forward and gently presses her lips to Angel’s. There’s a moment where everything seems to stop and she feels a surge of power, the same surge she’d felt with Doyle and chalked up to emotions and adrenaline, but now she knows she’s just received something back. She’s whole again.

She stands up and turns around.

"I remember everything. The visions…they're mine."

Skip’s not happy with her, but tough for him. So he doesn’t meet his guide quota for the week. It’s not her problem and she’d rather be dead and herself than alive and someone else.

“The fact remains that humans are not strong enough to harbor the visions! Period. Even the Powers That Be can't change that."

"Then find a loop hole, 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."

She’s got him there because he flinches and looks away.

"There may be a…tiny…loophole."

"I'll take it."

"You may wanna think about that. The only way you get to keep the visions is by becoming part demon. The process isn't easy. It'll make your vision pain feel like a stroll through candyland. And even after the pain subsides the effects of the transition will be numerous and unpredictable. You may never be able to lead a human life again."

Skip looks really serious so she takes a moment to really consider that. She looks back over at Angel and it doesn’t even matter anymore. All that matters is him. Helping him. Having a purpose.

"So demonize me already."

"It was an honor being your guide, Cordelia Chase."

Hell yeah it was, she thinks.

Then the world disappears into multiple blue spikes of light that stab her over and over again, melting and burning her insides. Everything inside her is ripped out and shredded and she doesn’t know who she is. She’s being consumed and overwhelmed and remade and it’s so visceral and real that she’s completely given over to it with nothing to shield herself with. She’s transformed.