Title: Wishes and Prophecies (3/?)
Author: Lisse
Rating: PG for language
Disclaimer: Joss owns everything from BtVS (the movie and the series) and
A:TS. I own Ife, Katrina, Ludmilla, Koto, and Sorcha.
Summary: An answer to the Wishfic challenge on the CordeliaDoyle list.
Catagory: Cordelia/Doyle, some Buffy/Angel and Buffy/Riley, possible others.
Distribution: Those who have already received permission, take it. :)
Everyone else, ask.
Feedback: Pleeeaaase?

**

He was here to help her? What?

Cordelia pushed herself up, rubbing her sore neck. "I'm /creating/ people
now? What is this?"

"Yeh didn' create me." This Doyle person gave the rest of White Hats a look
that suggested Cordelia's sanity was in question. "Or am I missin'
somethin'?"

Giles cleared his throat. He looked rather rumpled - being shoved into a
cage would do that to him, Cordelia supposed. "I-I'm not entirely sure.
Perhaps Cordelia could explain."

"Or Prince Charming here could tell us why he's so keen on helping," Nancy
muttered. Cordelia tried to take her presence in stride; maybe this
Bizarroworld had different Slayerettes, too. Or Watcherettes, as the case
may be.

But Nancy? And - she could feel her jaw dropping - /Larry/? Since when were
they save-the-world material?

Doyle first. "How /did/ you know?" she asked sharply. "You aren't in my
world, even as an icky demon, so why the hell are you here now?"

Her rescuer winced slightly. If she hadn't been so close, she wouldn't have
even noticed it. "Yeh probably aren' goin' teh believe me," he said slowly.

Larry shrugged. "This is Sunnydale. We'll believe anything."

"Almost," Oz's voice added from somewhere behind her. At least some things
stayed constant. The musician cum werewolf still had a minimalist
vocabulary.

Doyle shrugged. "Yeh might 'ave trouble with this, then." He stepped away
from Cordelia and sat on the edge of a table. Now that he wasn't hovering
like a worried mother hen, she could get a better look at him. He was short
and dark-haired, he was holding what looked suspiciously like a cross made
out of chair legs and twine, and his taste in clothing rivaled Xander's.

Her Xander's. Not evil Xander's.

"I'm a seer," Doyle explained. "Or somethin' like that. I get these visions
- a name, a face, a time - and I know that's a person I 'ave teh save."

"And you had to save me." Cordelia had heard stranger. "How do we know
you're telling the truth?"

"I can' prove anythin' teh yeh until I have another vision - and those don'
come unless someone's in trouble."

Larry snorted. "You'll get one soon, then. This town needs all the help it
can get." He looked over at Giles. "Do we let him live?"

Cordelia started to smile, then saw the expression on the others' faces. He
was serious. "Hey! He saved our lives - or mine, anyway. No killing him!"

"I would tend to agree," Giles said after a moment. "Mister..."

"Doyle."

"...Mister Doyle did help us, and he most probably saved all of our lives.
We do owe him a measure of trust." He looked over at Cordelia. "Y-You were
saying something about the Slayer?"

Finally. Cordelia looked around at the Watcherettes and began to describe
the last two years of her life.

**

Xander Harris was furious. No, he was beyond furious. He was working up a
good, old-fashioned wrath.

"I had her," he growled. "I /had/ her."

"But you didn't kill her." The Master heaved a put-upon sigh and leaned back
in his chair. "Oh, Xander. What am I going to do with you?"

"It wasn't our fault," he protested. "We had the White Hats and everything.
We didn't expect the new guy to show up."

Willow nodded, disappointed and sullen. "He doesn't play fair."

"Yeah. How were we supposed to know they had a demon on their side?"

Xander had intended that last statement to get the Master off their backs.
Instead, he just seemed even angrier. "A demon? They have a demon working
with them?!" He stood up so suddenly that the chair toppled over. "I want
them all dead - the girl, the demon, the White Hats, all of them!"

The two younger vampires looked at each other. The boss was in one of
/those/ moods. "We'll get them," Xander soothed. "None of them is the
Slayer."

"I think you said something bad," Willow murmured a moment later, when the
Master had smashed his fist into his desk. Splintered wood flew everywhere.

"They don't have to be the Slayer! That girl doesn't belong, and she's
upsetting things just by being here!"

Xander briefly considered that the Master might be going senile. He was
what? Ten thousand? Twenty? "It's Cordelia Chase. She worries about shoes."

A scrap of parchment was thrust under his nose. "Then why is /this/ here?"

Xander looked down at the scrap and read aloud. "'When the time is bleakest,
look to the isles that dismayed Rome and repelled the third strike.'" He
groaned. "Not another prophecy."

"Keep reading."

"'Look to the jewel of the sea and the dark stranger. Look to the three, for
they will come and go in a day. Look to the end of days and see the
prophecies undone, for the jewel and the stranger will destroy destruction,
the darkness will aid the light, and the child of the warrior queen will be
the undoing of the world.'" He sighed. "I'm all for evil fortellings, but
what the hell is this?"

"'The warrior queen,'" Willow murmured behind him, leaning on the back of
his chair. "She doesn't sound fun." She looked hopefully up at the Master.
"The girl is no threat. I'll make her scream."

"You want to play, hm?" The Master smiled faintly. "Not now. Your pet will
still be in his cage." He rested his elbows on the remnants of his desk.
"Kill the girl and capture the demon. Then you can have two toys to play
with."

Xander grinned up at Willow. "Sounds fun."

**

Amy Madison had been planning to kill every single vampire on the face of
the earth. It had been a good, solid goal right up to the moment that she
had barged into the cell.

"He's alive," her companion muttered, looking mildly impressed. "Or, as
alive as he can get, anyway." She tilted her head to one side. "And he's got
a soul in there."

"Great." Amy stepped around a sharp instrument and approached the curled
figure. "Tara?"

"Yeah?"

"Hold this." She handed up her cross and squatted beside the captive. "Hey.
You awake?"

One eye opened. He whispered something barely audible over the screams from
the floors above. It sounded like "Muffin".

Great. She had found a vampire with a soul who wanted baked goods. "I don't
have any muffins," she said patiently. "I'm just here to get you out."

The other eye opened. "Out?"

"Yeah. Outside world? Freedom? That sort of thing?" When he nodded weakly,
she gestured at his chains. They snapped with a flash of green light.
"C'mon. We'll get you out through the sewers."

He stumbled to his feet, leaning on her for support. Tara gave him a wary
look. "Don't do anything stupid," she warned. "Our friends would kill you as
soon as look at you."

"He can't hurt anyone," Amy muttered. "Except maybe himself." She helped the
newly freed vampire hobble out of the cell, where the other rescuees waited.
"Riley? How many others did we get?"

The third member of their little team stepped out of another cell and nodded
to the huddled group. Amy gave them a quick once-over. A pair of teenagers,
a middle-aged man, and a young woman. Great.

"Okay, people," she said in her most business-like voice. "We're getting out
of here right now. I want names. Nothing fancy, just enough to take to your
families if you die."

They gave their names quickly: Jesse, Flutie, Aura, Janna. And the vampire.
What a group.

Riley hefted his gun and began shoving them down the corridor. "Move it. You
stop, we leave you. Tara, get the rear, will you?"

Tara nodded and fell back by Amy and the vampire, carefully creating a
smokescreen. Should any demons come down here, it would take them a while to
fight their way through and find the runaways.

Amy grimaced and shifted the load. "Let's get these people back to Walsh,"
she muttered.

Tara just grinned humorlessly. "Hey. It's a living."

Amy didn't dignify that with a reply.

**

From the smell, the Professor's experiment was a great success. Anything
with nostrils wouldn't go near the apartment without an industrial-strength
clothespin, demon or not. Buffy held her nose and tried to imagine that she
was in the sewers. They would probably be kinder on her nose.

After a moment, Faith and Kendra escorted them into an aired-out bedroom
about the size of a broom closet. The Professor was waiting for them, all
dark hair and glasses and stained suit. James Bond he wasn't, but Wesley
Wyndham-Pryce was the man to go to for spells, potions, and demonology.

Not to mention horrible smells.

"Buffy!" He looked rather surprised that she was here - probably he'd
forgotten in all the excitement over the spell. Sometimes Buffy wondered
what his girlfriend saw in him.

"We've got vamp problems," Pike said as soon as seats could be found.

"Too many?"

"More like not enough," Buffy answered. "There are about three demons left
in LA. They've all taken off or something."

Kendra shrugged. "It could be they got tired of this city. I wouldn't mind
if they left."

"See?" Nicole glared around the room. "I'm not the only person who thinks
this is a good thing."

"It isn't," Buffy muttered. "I know it isn't. Something's going to happen
with the Hellmouth and the Master."

Wesley sighed. "I was afraid of this, actually."

"Great." Pike sighed and slid a palm down his face. "Let me guess. It's the
end of the world or something."

"Actually, yes."

"I was kidding!" Pike stopped. "Wait. You aren't, are you?"

"I wish I were." Wesley plopped a small pile of papers in Buffy's lap. "I
believe the Master is trying to jump-start the Apocalypse."

Buffy looked down at the papers. "What's this about isles and jewels and..."
She paused. "Prof? Have the fumes been getting to you?"

"Of course not," Wesley said testily. "This is a prophecy from the Codex,
and it /will/ come true."

Faith looked at Kendra, then at Buffy. "Not if we stop the Master." She
turned her hard gaze at Wesley. "We have to go to Sunnydale."

"Demon central?" Nicole shook her head. "Oh, no. No way."

Buffy flipped the first page over and looked at the second. Oh, hell. "We
don't have a choice, Nic."

"What? Why not? I'm going to miss the pagaent and..." She stopped and read
the lines. "Oh, no."

"Gimme that!" Pike grabbed the paper and read through it. "Buffy, no. You
are not going." He looked at the other two girls. "You, either."

Kendra shrugged and stood up. "We have to go. The Master's going to kill a
Slayer." She grinned. "Let him handle three."