Author: Lisse
Fic Name: Wishes and Prophecies (1/?)
Rating: PG
Summary: An answer to the Wishfic challenge. This is my first long fic, so 
be kind. :)
Disclaimer: Joss owns 'em all, including Pike and Nicole. If you don't know 
who they are, watch the original movie.
Catagory: Doyle/Cordy; probably some Buffy/Angel and Buffy/Riley (yes, 
Riley's in this. I like the character, so hah!); possible others.
Feedback: Sure, yes, please. No flames. If anyone flames me, I will sic the 
Jello of Doom on them.
Distribution: Ask, tell me where, give me credit, yada yada yada.
Other Notes: Did I mention be kind?

**

"I wish Buffy Summers had just stayed in LA!"

For a moment Anya said nothing. Then she turned, and Cordelia knew that she 
might have just made the biggest mistake of her life. Anya wasn't human. 
There was no way she could be even close to human.

Then her newfound "friend" spoke, and it was too late. "Done."

* * *

"Come back here!"

Buffy Summers ran after the vampire, her heavy boots thump-thumping on the 
pavement. Her quarry threw a look over his shoulder and rounded a corner, 
the Slayer following barely fifteen feet behind him.

An alley appeared off to his right and the vampire threw himself desperately 
at it. Buffy cursed. If there was a fire escape back attached to one of the 
buildings, she'd never catch him. She wanted this pointy-toothed jerk dead. 
Now. For good. No one killed kids on her watch.

The vampire pounded down the alley, eyes fixed on the last apartment 
building. The metal stairs of the fire escape gleamed in the moonlight. Even 
if he could not break into the building, he doubted this stupid, persistant 
girl could follow him onto the roof. He prepared to jump up.

"Eww! Go away!" A second figure, dressed much less practically than Buffy, 
detatched herself from the wall and clubbed the offending vampire with a 
large cross. Before he quite knew what was happening, the rather puzzled 
creature screamed and tumbled toward the ground.

Buffy leaned down and staked the vampire, bouncing back upright before the 
dust could settle. "Nice," she said simply. Not "Are you hurt?" Not 
"Couldn't have done it without you." Just "Nice."

Nicole stepped daintily over the ashes. "You could have warned me," she 
griped. "I'm supposed to be planning for the May Queen pageant, not hitting 
people in dark alleys. Besides," she added with a resentful look, "isn't 
this your boyfriend's job?"

"Pike's up north."

"Wow. Monosyllabic much?" The offended socialite sighed dramatically and 
started down the alley. "God, my shoes are /so/ ruined. Why am I even 
helping you?"

Buffy crossed her arms and glared after the girl, not bothering to point out 
that the only reason Nicole was here to complain was because Buffy herself 
had snatched her from a vampire's clutches. That was the same day she had, 
through incredible bad luck, almost burned down the gym. She had been 
suspended for that little incident.

True, Nicole wasn't the best help in the world. Nor, for that matter, was 
Pike. Even Buffy herself was hard-pressed to keep LA marginally human. It 
was no secret that hell had quite literally broken loose nearly two years 
ago, and it was also no secret that LA, despite its proximity to the 
epicenter of the demonic invasion, was an island of calm.

They hadn't gotten any credit, of course. That had gone to the police.

Suppressing a sigh, LA's last defense against the forces of darkness stuffed 
her stake in her pocket and set off after Nicole.

**

"How the hell do we get up there?"

Nancy frowned at the tower above Sunnydale High. "I guess we could climb," 
she suggested doubtfully.

"Maybe." Larry sounded about as sure of himself as she did - which was to 
say, neither of them had any clue. "Is there an elevator?"

"It's boarded up. Of course not."

"Just checking." The former football player sighed and looked down at a 
rumpled parchment scroll. "It says 'From the highest point of the mouth of 
hell you shall see the savior of the world.' That's as high as this school 
goes."

The third member of their group eyed the tower for a long moment before 
speaking. "We could ask Snyder."

"Not that he'd help us," Nancy muttered. "C'mon. Let's go tell Giles this is 
a bust."

The three teenagers trouped out of the deserted school courtyard, nearly 
running over one of the resident ditzes as they stepped through the doors. 
Cordelia Chase gave them a startled look and hurried off in the opposite 
direction.

Nancy ignored her, just as she ignored everyone who wasn't A) a creature of 
darkness or B) someone trying to kill a creature of darkness. She had been 
staking, shooting, and generally maiming demons for well over a year. Her 
GPA had taken a nosedive. Far too many of her fellow Whitehats - Devon, 
Marcie, Jonathan - were dead. She didn't have time to apologize to a ditz in 
a bite-me dress.

The former scholar pushed open the doors of the library and looked around. 
"Mister Giles?"

"Hm?" The school librarian and resident demonic expert poked his head up 
from behind a stack of musty tomes. "Nancy? Larry? Oz? Did any of you find 
anything?"

"Our prophecy was a no-go," Larry said, tossing the parchment onto the 
table. "We can't figure out a way to get to the tower."

"And they don't think Snyder will help us," Oz added.

Mister Giles visibly deflated. Nancy couldn't blame him. "We all tried," she 
said as gently as she could. "It's just no good. We need someone who can 
fight fire with fire."

"Or demon with demon," Larry muttered.

"Yes, well...I-I suppose you did the best you could." Mister Giles set the 
parchment back in a book. "You'd better get ready to go on patrol."

"We'd be ditching tenth," Nancy pointed out, more out of habit than anything 
else.

Larry gave her a Look. "You'd rather be learning about biology?"

She sighed. It wasn't as if she was passing the class. "Point. We're taking 
the van along Elm Terrace tonight?" When Mister Giles nodded, she turned to 
Oz and Larry. "That's pretty close to the Bronze. We'll need heavy-duty 
stuff."

"Crossbows?"

She shot Oz a glare. There were times when the truth was just too depressing 
to hear. Their heavy artillary was medieval. "Yeah. Crossbows. And probably 
some holy water. And make sure you have gas in the van this time!" she added 
as they started to gather equipment.

She didn't see the look Mister Giles gave her, which, given her current 
state of mind, was probably just as well. And she certainly didn't hear his 
muttered comment.

"Too bloody bad she isn't the Slayer."

**

He had a headache. Hell, he'd had a headache since Harry died. This was a 
downright, skull-splitting migraine.

He was also in love, which wasn't helping matters.

The girl had come to him with the migraine, appearing in a flash of light 
and laughter. She was pretty, maybe five or six years younger than him. 
There was something about her - some expression or smile - that no one he 
knew had, some indefinable quality that Harry had possessed.

Innocence. That was it.

Her name was beautiful, too. Cordelia. It sounded Welsh, maybe Scottish. It 
was exotic and rare, about as rare as innocence was these days. He had loved 
her the moment he saw her, even through the splitting pain that seemed to 
come with these visions.

And that was the heart of his problem. He knew that if he didn't do 
something, she wouldn't live to see tomorrow.

That was why he was sitting in a stolen car, driving at full, bone-jarring 
speed towards the Hellmouth and Sunnydale. He didn't want her to die.

Cordelia.

It had a nice ring to it.

**
Part Two
**

Surviving in Sunnydale - even the nicer version that certain people called 
home - meant developing instincts. Right now, all of Cordelia's were 
screaming at her. Something was wrong.

It wasn't just the color of Harmony's wardrobe. It wasn't just the curfew or 
the lack of any open stores or the Bronze being a Bad Thing. There was 
something fundamentally wrong.

Xander was dead.

She hated the boy. She loathed him. When she had daydreamed the past few 
days, it had revolved around maiming, squashing, or torturing him. But she 
hadn't wanted him /dead/.

Her high heel caught on a crack in the asphalt. It seemed that City Hall was 
slacking off in this universe.

Xander was dead.

She turned a corner and headed onto Elm Terrace, dragging her feet, not even 
caring if her shoes were scuffed beyond repair. The nagging feeling that 
something was wrong was growing worse.

Xander was dead. He was dead. He was...

...here.

Here. In leather. Xander never wore leather. The feeling got worse.

Her formerly deceased former boyfriend smiled. "Well, whadaya know? Cordelia 
Chase."

The voice sent chills down her spine, but pride was rearing its ugly head. 
She forced herself not to squeak. "What is this?" she demanded. "Some kind 
of sick joke? Harmony told me you were dead."

"Now, why would she say something like that? Let's think."

She fought the urge to run. She wasn't going to run from her ex. Not in any 
universe. Besides, there were more important things going on. "Listen to me. 
We have to find Buffy. She'll figure out a way to save us. She was supposed 
to be here, and as much as it kills me to     admit it..." She took a deep 
breath and plunged on. "Things were better when she was around."

Xander just stared at her. "Buffy? The Slayer?"

Exasperation overcame fear and pride. "No! Buffy the dog-faced girl! Duh! 
Who do you think I'm talking about?"

That was when the voice drifted out of the alley and Cordelia's heart almost 
froze in her chest. No. No way.

"Bored now."

It was Willow. Willow in black leather and a bodice that Faith probably 
wouldn't be caught dead in, but still Willow. Her instincts, which had taken 
a break when her annoyance had kicked in, began to scream even louder.

"This is the part that's less fun," Willow was saying. "When there isn't any 
screaming."

"What's up with you two and the leather?" It was the sanest question 
Cordelia could manage. Anything else would have been babbling.

Neither was listening. "Play now?" Willow asked in a soft-singsong voice 
that was somehow more horrible than any snarl. A glimmer of understanding 
began to form in Cordelia's mind - a revelation she shied away from. No. 
Please, no.

Xander sighed. "It's not that I don't appreciate your appetite, Will, but I 
thought we agreed it was my turn."

Turn? Turn for what? The glimmer grew larger and brighter, until it was 
almost impossible to ignore. Harmony had said they were /dead/.

But she hadn't said how, had she?

Willow whimpered and stroked her hand against Xander's chest. Cordelia's 
horror again took second seat - this time to utter rage. "No. No! No way! I 
wish us into Bizarro Land, and you guys are still together?! I can't win!"

"Probably not."

As he spoke, Xander's face slid into something that, even in her most evil 
daydreams, she would never wish on him.

A vampire.

Oh, God. Oh, God, no.

He continued conversationally. "But I'll give you a head start."

"No!" The cry flew from her and she ran, abandoning everything but the need 
to get away - not to save her own life, but to escape the creature that her 
friend had become. To escape the knowledge that she had killed him.

**

Buffy kicked open the door to Pike's one-room flat. She had to; the pile of 
rancid pizza boxes prevented it from being opened by normal means.

"Pike?" she called. "Hello?"

Her boyfriend poked his head up from behind a pile of dirty clothing, 
chewing on something that Buffy hoped was gum. Not that she could talk. Food 
wasn't exactly her priority; she ate when she could and if it didn't taste 
awful, well, that was an unexpected bonus.

"Buffy! Nic!" He swallowed the quote-unquote food and stood up, carrying a 
beat-up ax in one hand. Nicole had quite correctly classified Pike's 
wardrobe as greaser grunge. Today's leather jacket, tee-shirt, and stubble 
were no exception. "Anything?"

"Just our friend from the playground." Buffy stepped bravely onto something 
that might once have been a bologna sandwich. Unlike Nicole, Buffy let 
fashion go hang. There were worse things than decayed lunchmeat on her 
boots, and she wasn't about to clean them off now. "You?"

"Not a thing." He stepped over the laundry, dropping the ax onto his 
mattress. "There's something going on, Buff. The vamps are up to something."

"Or gone," Nicole added hopefully. She had cleared off a chair and was 
perched daintily on it.

"Not likely." Buffy frowned, working out what she knew about vampires. "Do 
you think they've gone to the center?"

Pike nodded. "I think the Master's up to something, yeah. We might have to 
ask the Professor about this one."

"Great." Nicole rolled her eyes and carefully examined her shoe. "Let's go 
visit the British expert on tweed. Oh, yeah. This is worth my time."

"Shut up," Buffy countered. "Besides, it's not tweed. Ife made him wear 
slacks."

"I thought that was Kendra." Pike thought for a moment. "No, you're right. 
Kendra had that argument about the tie."

Nicole heaved a put-upon sigh and hopped off of the chair. "Who cares? He's 
got a zillion boarders and they all hate how he dresses. Come on." She 
wrinkled her pert nose. "Let's go ask him. I'd like to get home before six 
in the morning this time."

**

For once, Elm Terrace didn't seem all that active. Nancy was quite happy 
with this. The entire street was deserted, which she was also happy with. 
That meant that there was no one to rescue. Maybe she could actually get 
some homework done for once.

The scream shattered that cheerful little picture.

"There!" Larry pointed out the front windshield, drawing her attention to a 
brightly-dressed girl being thrown by a vampire. "It's Harris."

"Which means Rosenberg's with him," Nancy muttered. "Great." She picked up 
her cross. "Get ready, Oz."

The van screeched to a stop beside Cordelia. Mister Giles jumped out first, 
cross at ready. Nancy looked at Larry, who nodded. They followed after the 
librarian, cross and stake held before them.

Mister Giles waved the cross before the two vampires. "I've got them! Get 
the girl!"

"Right." Nancy helped Larry pick up the girl - she looked vaguely familiar - 
and carry her into the van. As soon as they were inside, Mister Giles jumped 
in after them. Larry slammed the door, Oz floored it, and they escaped down 
the street.

"Next time let me hold them off," Larry said as he checked the girl. She 
hadn't been bitten, which meant it was probably safe to bring her into the 
library.

Nancy shushed him with a look; Mister Giles was in one of his quiet moods. 
Instead, she tapped Oz on the shoulder. "Better take a detour. They might 
follow us."

**

The Professor didn't deserve the title. As far as Buffy and Company knew, 
his only real skills were demonology and - especially important in Pike's 
mind - the ability to aquire female boarders. Buffy had never bothered to 
point out that the man was a Watcher and the girls potential Slayers. No 
point in spoiling his dreams.

She knocked on the door of the apartment. A voice called "Just a sec." There 
was a sound of locks unlocking and bolts being yanked aside. Then, after 
nearly a minute, the door swung open to reveal a brunette in a leather vest 
and vinyl pants. "Hey, B."

"Faith." Buffy waited until the other girl held open the door. She didn't 
invite them in; no one did that in this city. "Is Wesley here?"

"Yeah. I'll get him." She nodded to the kitchen. "There's soda in the 
fridge."

The other girls shot her curious and occasionally respectful looks. There 
were five kids sprawled around the small living/dining room: a Jamaican 
named Kendra, a Nigerian named Ife, six-year-old Russian twins Ludmilla and 
Katrina, and a Japanese toddler, Koto. Someday, God help them, they'd be 
doing her job.

Wow, that was a cheery thought.

Buffy flopped onto the couch, watching Nicole scoop up Koto. That was her 
friend's weakness. Call her shallow, call her stupid, Nicole would do 
anything to save a kid.

Pike sat beside Buffy and handed her a soda. "Here. Faith says the 
Professor's trying a spell."

"Great." Buffy glanced at the TV, which Ludmilla was watching with wide-eyed 
fascination. "Care to join me for a 'Scooby Doo' marathon in the meantime?"

"Sounds fun." He grinned suddenly. "You know what, Buff? That's what we 
should call ourselves."

"Sounds Fun?"

"No! The Scooby Doos."

Nicole rolled her eyes - her favorite expression, and endlessly fascinating 
to Koto. "Let me guess. You'd be Shaggy."

Pike threw a pillow at her.

Buffy smiled. 'Scooby Doos' didn't have the right sound.

The Scooby Gang. That had a ring to it.

**

They laid Cordelia on the center table. It looked, Nancy thought, 
uncomfortably like a wake.

Oz looked down at their rescuee. "How's she doing?"

"Her pulse is strong." Mister Giles frowned thoughtfully at the girl.

No one said anything for a moment. Finally Nancy couldn't stand it. After 
all that excitement, she had to voice what was on her mind.

"What was she doing wearing that? Everyone knows that vampires are attracted 
to bright colors."

Larry's answer came with a heavy emphasis on the sarcasm. "That's Cordelia. 
It's better to look good than to feel alive."

Mister Giles gave them a look. "Uh, go and, uh, watch the perimeters in case 
they follow."

Translation: Get out of his hair. Nancy sighed. "Right. C'mon."

The three trouped out, leaving Mister Giles alone with his charge.

**

Her head really hurt.

Cordelia groaned and forced herself to sit up as quickly as possible. Her 
first thought was that she had to get away as quickly as possible.

A hand closed on her shoulder. For a heart-stopping moment, Cordelia thought 
she had been captured. Then her eyes focused, and she realized who it was.

"Hey! Hey..." Giles tried to be soothing. In another situation, she might 
have been comforted.

Not now, though. "Giles! It's all my fault! I wasn't...I made that /stupid/ 
wish..."

Giles just tried to get her back on the table. "Come on. Please lie..."

Wasn't he listening? It was /her/ fault! She'd killed Xander and Willow and 
how many others. "No! You have to get Buffy. Buffy changes it."

Giles released his grip on her. She decided to take this as permission to 
continue before he changed his mind. "It wasn't like this. It was better. I 
mean, the clothes alone..." Giles took off his glasses and she realized she 
was losing his attention. She couldn't do that. "But people were happy," she 
added quickly. "Mostly. And..."

A thought occured to her. She slid off the table and faced him. "Wait. Why 
are you here and she's not? I mean, y-you were her Watcher."

/That/ got his attention. "H-how do you know I was a Watcher? I've never..."

Something thumped outside. To Cordelia's terrified mind, it sounded like all 
the armies of hell trying to break in. "What?"

Giles looked around cautiously, sliding his glasses back on.

That made her more worried. "What?"

When he spoke, it was in the sort of voice that people used to convince 
someone not to jump. "I thought I heard something."

He turned and walked to the cage, grabbing a large cross and a good, hefty 
stake. Cordelia watched him nervously, right up until the hand closed on her 
neck.

She froze. Literally. Everything inside seemed to turn to ice. Giles was 
still talking in that calm voice. Couldn't he see what had happened?

The cage slammed shut. She was alone with them.

Willow smiled at the captive Watcher, dangling a key in front of him. 
"You're in a big cage."

Giles! She tried to scream, but Xander's hand was clamped over her mouth. 
Willow was looking at him with those horrible eyes.

When he spoke, his voice was almost in her ear. "Not too bright, Book Guy." 
Giles slammed against the cage, producing a sort of soft, nasty chortle from 
Xander.

Was this how Jenny Calendar felt? Cordelia's strangely disconnected thoughts 
wondered if the teacher was alive in this world. Jenny's life for hers. It 
sounded so poetic.

"So you're a Watcher, huh?" She could sense Xander's smile through the 
terror, from a long way off. "Watch this."

"Let 'er go!"

Cordelia wasn't sure what happened next. There was a thump and a feral growl 
from Willow. Xander snarled in her ear, releasing his grip on her. Something 
wooden and cross-shaped flashed across her vision and she stumbled free of 
him, staggering against someone else.

Someone's voice floated to her. "...just came out of nowhere, Mister Giles. 
We'd be dead otherwise." Who was that? Nancy?

Oz's steady monotone reached her next. "That's a really big cross. I think 
it scared them off." A jingle. "Here's the keys, Giles. Is she okay?"

An unfamiliar voice came from somewhere above her, and she realized she was 
on the ground. She forced her eyes open and stared up into an unfamiliar, 
worried face.

"Who the hell...?" It wasn't the most coherent question in the world, but it 
was all she felt up to.

Her rescuer smiled faintly, directing his answer at the entire library. "I'm 
Doyle. I'm here teh help yeh."

**

Feedback? Comments? Questions? Hmmm?