who. cordelia chase
what. the powers that be decide that the good guys could use some more help, per cordelia's request.
when. early morning
locked to. one-shot
status. complete
"Come on, guys." There was a pause as the Seer's chocolate colored eyes traveled across the tall, robed figures that stood a few yards in front of her in the large, white room. "Or whatever the heck you are." The middle one shifted, obviously annoyed. "Look, for the past three years, I have sat up here with you, and let's face it -- you're not a real happenin' bunch, you know? I've done what you wanted. For three years, I've watched my friends. I've watched them die, I've watched them go into battles I knew they couldn't win, and I haven't said anything." Oh, she had wanted to. Cordelia had begged The Powers to reverse Fred's death when it had first happened. That had only managed to piss them off, and they had made it clear that she wasn't allowed to interfere again. They had, after all, given her a second chance already. She'd thought she had managed to get Angel back on track. Maybe she had, but then Fred had died. The fight against Wolfram and Hart had come soon after, and Cordelia could do nothing but sit up here with The Powers That Sit On Their Ass, ( Not that she'd ever tell them that to their faces ) and watch.
She was done watching.
It probably wasn't the brightest idea Cordelia had ever had, raising her voice to the robed figures. "You've seen what it's like down there! It's a bloodbath! You always say that you're here to keep balance, but where is the balance in
that chaos? People are dying left and right. Angel's been turned, and there's no telling how long it takes before he kills one of -" The large, booming voice that iterrupted seemed to come from everywhere, hitting her at all sides. She knew, however, that it belonged to the middle figure.
"My patience with you grows thin, Cordelia Chase. We asked you to help us, not question our decisions, and not to interfere with the lives of mere mortals." Whatever fear - no, fear wasn't the right word. Reverence, maybe - she had felt for them before fell around her feet as she stepped forward, chin held high and eyes narrowing. "Those mere mortals are people that I love! And what about the others? Angel, Buffy -- they're Champions. You call them your champions, the champions for "The Powers," but when it comes down to it, you're going to let them all get slaughtered." Now, her voice dropped into more of a plea. "You
have to let me go back. It will just be as long as I'm needed, and then I'll come back, and -" Again, she was interrupted by the large voice.
"If we let you go, you will not be coming back. We took your life for a reason, Cordelia. You can do more good here than you will ever do down there in that madhouse. If you go down there, how do you know that you won't get slaughtered with the rest of them?" All very good points. Cordelia just didn't care. Not anymore. "I don't know, and I don't care. But I want to go back." For what seemed like hours, there was a stillness in the room. No one spoke, no one moved. She was almost sure they were going to say no, just before the middle figure nodded.
"Very well." A withered, bony hand lifted just before two fingers snapped together, and the room was suddenly filled with a blinding white light. It was so bright that Cordelia had to lift her arms in front of her face.
And then it was over.
( it was not death, for i stood up. and all the dead lie down )