Chapter Four

The dim, reddish glow that lit the hallway ahead seemed familiar somehow, as though she were entering a place she knew. As Cordelia walked slowly forward, she suddenly felt rough, dirty carpet under her feet, and smelled.....

Popcorn? In hell?

Yeah, right. And where was that reddish light coming from? A "No Exit" sign?

As her bare foot came down on a wad of something sticky, she suddenly recognized her surroundings.

"Eww!"

Rubbing her foot, she realized that she was in a movie theater, and not just any movie theater. She knew this place, all right. It was impossible, but all her senses told her that she was in Sunnydale.

She groaned in disbelief. This was beyond cruel. This was the place she had fled to escape the pain, the humiliation. She had left to escape all the people who knew her. To go somewhere where she could start fresh, even though it didn't turn out that way. But in Los Angeles she could have been a new person, even around Angel and just recently, Wesley. She could re-invent herself. She could atone.

Now, standing in a deserted movie theater that seemed to be in Sunnydale, she could feel her walls begin to crumble again.

She almost turned back; back towards the door behind her, but Drusilla's chant rang in the back of her mind: "No turning back no turning back no turning back..."

She knew it was true. Turning back was not an option.

Especially after what she'd given up.

"Hey. You got a ticket? You can't get in here without a ticket, you know."

Cordelia jumped at the soft voice, and a chill ran up her spine.

She looked all around her. Nothing. It must have been her imagination getting the best of her.

Then she heard it again.

"Where's your ticket? You can't watch the show without a ticket."

It was louder this time, and she could tell where it was coming from... directly ahead of her, in the red-tinged semi-darkness. This voice, too, sounded familiar.

Against her better judgment, Cordelia followed the voice. Her bare feet squished on the dirty floor of the movie theater, sticky with spilled soda.

"Great," she whispered. "What's next, burning coals?"

"If you like."

And then the lights in the theater brightened slightly, just enough that she could make out the familiar features of the person, or not-person, who stood ahead of her with a bag of popcorn in her hand.

"Want some popcorn? You've gotta buy it though. Nothing is free around here, there's a price for everything."

Cordelia squinted against the darkness at the face. "Oh my god. Anya?"

Anya gave her a condescending smile. "Who else would I be?"

Cordelia tried to keep moving, but Anya shook her head, blocking her effortlessly "Ah, ah, ah Cordelia. You can't get past me. Not yet."

Cordelia put her hands on her hips, "I can go past you if I want to. Now."

Anya shook her head. "Oh, that's where you've got it wrong. See," she gestured lightly and pushed Cordelia backward without even touching her, "things don't always go Cordelia Chase's way." She paused and looked Cordy up and down, as if just seeing her for the first time. "Geez, you look like crap."

Cordelia smiled sarcastically, "Yeah well, you're not always that pleasant to look at. Or listen to." She straightened her back. "That isn't the point, Anya. I'm guessing you're the next toll-taker or whatever."

The other girl folded her arms over her chest. "You guessed right, because you know you'll have to give me something before you can pass me. Kinda like a toll."

Cordelia rolled her eyes, irritated. "What do you want me to give up this time? My beauty? My soul? No matter what you take, I'll get Doyle back."

Anya laughed, "How can you be so sure you'll get him back, Cordelia? You didn't get Xander back."

"I didn't want Xander back, that's all. I always get what I want if I want it bad enough." Cordy shrugged.

Anya turned and pointed to one of the rows in the theater. "Isn't that where the two of you sat in the dark, not watching the movie? You thought you could hide. You thought nobody could see you, didn't you? You thought you could have it all, Xander and popularity too. Didn't his lips taste sweet, Cordelia?"

"You shutting up would be even sweeter."

"But you couldn't keep him, could you? Not even Xander, who likes his women cruel."

"What do you mean?"

Anya laughed. "Oh, I've heard all the stories, believe me. Xander and some kind of grasshopper woman, Xander and the life-sucking mummy, Xander and the rogue slayer. Then of course, there's always me. If it wasn't for you, Cordelia, I would still be putting men through tortures you can't even imagine. You have no idea how much I miss that. Or then again, maybe you do. Willow called Xander a 'demon magnet' once, you know. What does that say about you, Cordelia?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

Anya's eyes seemed to dance with enjoyment. "What about Doyle? I'd call him your demon lover, except you never were lovers, were you? I guess you didn't want him badly enough. I mean, he's dead and gone now. And you're alone, just poor and alone."

Cordelia's hands clenched and unclenched in anger, "You have no right."

"Well, you brought him up, Cordelia." Anya continued to slouch comfortably, munching popcorn, with a satisfied look on her face.

"Doesn't mean you have the right to talk about him, like, like you know him or something. I mean, who do you think I am? Your friend? Do you think I care what you think of me? Well, if you do, you definitely belong in Hell with that crazy 'queen' of yours."

"We're already in Hell, Cordy."

"Yeah, well, it figures. You're here and everything."

"Oh, coming back with the insults. That's the Cordy I know and loathe." Anya smirked.

Cordelia placed her hand on her forehead and sighed, "Just get on with it. Do whatever you have to do. And stop saying my name like that!"

"What's wrong Cordelia? Can't handle hearing your own name? Are you too scared to face the fact that you're you? Poor old helpless Cordelia Chase. Her daddy lost his money and now she's an aspiring but failing actress in Los Angeles, and works for a vampire with a soul. A real riches to rags story, huh? How does it feel, Cordelia? How does it feel to fail? Bad, doesn't it? It's rough not getting what you want. Don't worry, I know how you feel." Anya smiled and looked at Cordy's shocked face.

Cordelia's lower lip trembled in sadness, frustration and anger. "Just step out of my way, Anya," she whispered. "Just let me go on by."

"You don't get it, do you? You can't pass by me. Not until you've learned. Do you know why I'm a mortal now, Cordelia? Because you made a wish and I was stupid enough to grant it. Remember this?" Anya gestured, and suddenly Cordelia was wearing a pendant dangling around her neck, the one that Anya had let her borrow for 'luck' last year. "That was my power center. This isn't the real thing, of course. The real one was destroyed, because of you. All the wishes I've granted in all the years, and yours was the one that cost me my powers. I could change the whole world with a thought, and now all I get to think about is how many minutes I have to wait before I can take Xander's clothes off again. It's all because of you, Cordelia. It's all because you had to have your own way, no matter what."

"What do you want me to say? Am I supposed to be sorry that you lost your powers? Because I'm not sorry. You deserved to lose them."

"And maybe you deserved to lose what you had, too. No, you don't have to *say* anything. All you have to do is understand. The world will not be served to you on a silver platter. You're the same as all the other mortals; you're not any better because you had money or because...your father had some amazing job. Not because you had a huge house with tons of maids and butlers. When it all comes down to it, you're just Cordelia Chase. Another vulnerable human. I don't care if that demon called you his princess, thought of you as a goddess, whatever. It's only words."

"Not to him," Cordelia whispered stubbornly. "Not to me."

"And what if the only way you could get him back is not to be the princess any more? To come down from the tower?"

Cordelia took off the pendant from around her neck, and handed it to Anya. "I'll come down, then. I'll come down as far as I need to go," Cordelia said quietly. "Whatever it takes."

Fighting back tears, she covered her eyes with both hands and rubbed angrily. "Let me through."

The ex-demon shrugged and finally stepped aside, the pendant in her hand. "I think you've learned your lesson. Too bad this isn't real," indicating the pendant.

"Nothing here is real, so what's your point?"

"Reality is a relative term, Cordelia. You may pass."

She gestured toward the blank movie screen, and as she did, it suddenly changed from an ordinary dark, blank expanse to a swirling shimmer of fog.

"You always wanted to be in the movies, Cordelia," Anya mocked. "Go ahead. Walk through the screen."

Cordelia walked forward as fast as she could, not taking another glance back at the gatekeeper. As she approached the screen, she stretched her hands out to touch it, and she saw her fingers, then her hands, then her wrists and her arms disappear before her up to the elbow, into the nothingness ahead.

For a moment she almost lost her nerve, but she took a deep breath and kept walking into the shimmer of shadow ahead until she passed through the screen.

She was greeted with darkness.

"This is so not my day."

As Cordelia passed through the fog, in another place that was not a place at all, Wesley spoke, after a moment of stunned silence.

"Mr. Doyle, I presume. Well, well. If you're the same gentleman that I believe you to be, I understand that you've been dead for several months now. Why do you appear to be gaining solidity?"

"What are you talkin' about, man?" Even as he said it, Doyle felt an odd tingle. He looked down at himself, seeing a ripple of light pass slowly from his hands, up his arms, and over his body.

Something in the touch of that energy washing over him had a familiar feeling to it, a texture that reminded him of a desperate kiss and the movement of power from one to another.

Here on this plane, nothing was really solid or tangible, Doyle knew. Everything here was merely a mirror, a reflection of something else. He had learned that lesson painfully well.

Yet somehow, after the light passed through his body, he felt stronger, and judging by Wesley, apparently looked less transparent than before.

"Oh, no," he whispered. "We don't have much time left."

"Time for what? What is happening to you, and what are you expecting me to do about it?"

When Doyle did not answer, Wesley added, in a gentler tone: "I don't mean any offense, and I don't wish to be unkind, but, other than the special case of vampires, death is generally a rather final end to one's available time."

"Except....." Doyle stopped for a moment, then forced himself to continue. "Except if someone else is fool enough to amuse the Powers that Be by offerin' to trade her life for yours."

"Do you mean - ?"

Doyle nodded slowly, still not quite believing it himself.

"Yeah, that's what I mean. Cordelia."

"Well, we must stop her then - mustn't we?" Wesley hesitated, realizing that Doyle might not see it quite the same way. The chance to return to life - how could it not be tempting?

"Don't even think about doubtin' it," Doyle snapped at him. "We're stoppin' her. I'm not goin' back without her, no matter what."

"And if, perhaps, she says the same thing?"

Doyle met Wesley's gaze. "Then it may just be up t'you to drag her back where she belongs."