Chapter Eight
When the swirling light began to settle down into some kind of pattern that Cordelia could recognize, she found herself surrounded by dancing sparks of light that looked like numbers. There were odd streaks of light all around her, and lines and circles which seemed to resolve themselves into ones and zeros.

She couldn't feel that she was standing on anything, and when she looked down at her feet, she could not see a surface underneath them.

"Well, if this is The Matrix, I'm still waiting to see Keanu Reeves," she called out sharply, but there was only silence.

After a few minutes of watching numbers flash by, she called out again: "But I'd settle for Bruce Boxleitner in Tron!"

There was no sensation of movement, but she still had the feeling that she was going somewhere.

"Well, that Bridges guy then, the one from 'Starman'? Okay, okay, at this point I'll even settle for David Nabbitt. Hey, is anybody there at all?"

She heard a soft laugh in response. It was another familiar voice. "Just press the key marked D-E-L to deliver."

"Willow!"

"Nobody else here but us geeks and nerds." Slowly, a figure began to materialize in front of Cordelia.

It was Willow, but not the Willow who had just recently helped Cordelia through the process of decrypting the disks from Wolfram and Hart. This was the Willow from tenth grade at Sunnydale High, the Willow in overalls with long straight hair and puppy-dog eyes, now looking at Cordelia with undisguised resentment.

"You're here in my world now, Cordelia. And I bet you're not gonna like it."

"Oh, grow up," Cordelia snapped at the younger Willow. "You got over that phase years ago. Go on!" She waved a hand impatiently. "I am not at all interested in talking to the younger you, okay? You were a bore then, and that whiny little brat can't help me now."

"Oh, I'm not going to help you. Why would I do that? You hurt me, and Xander, and Jesse."

"Cut the crap! The real Willow and I have both grown up now, and this whole thing is getting way old, anyway. Jesse's been dead for years, get over it. If you're going to be one of the players in this little game of Drusilla's, then you can at least be up to date."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the image of the tenth-grade Willow protested, wide-eyed. "Are you ... on drugs, Cordelia?"

"It wouldn't help. And I don't have time for this, so stop with the innocence already. It was nauseating enough when it was real. You're not Willow, you're nothing more than one of Drusilla's dolls, so take this newsflash back to her right now, Raggedy Ann. I know damn well that I'm dying here, and I'm not playing any more games." Cordelia advanced toward the pseudo-Willow. "Take whatever you're supposed to take and get on with it. Doyle needs me."

"Who?"

Just like the timid Willow of years past, the illusory Willow backed away in apparent fright as Cordelia advanced toward her.

"You know, I really don't care what you think you're going to take from me. It doesn't matter any more. This game is getting so old. What happens if I touch you, mock-Willow? Are you going to turn into Drusilla? That's who you really are, isn't it?"

"Huh - uh - " the faux Willow stammered as Cordelia put her hands around her throat.

"You're not real," Cordelia hissed. "You're not Willow. Do what you're going to do, and get it done!"

As Cordelia began to apply pressure, the face in front of her changed. In a ripple of light, it was suddenly Faith under her hands, laughing.

"Go for it, girl! Kill the little bitch! I know you can do it."

"Faith!" Cordelia flinched involuntarily, and Faith looked disappointed. "What's the problem? You can do it. You've always wanted to do it, haven't you? Well, now you can. See?"

In a moment, the figure before her shifted back, and it was Willow again, with Cordelia's hands still wrapped around her throat, looking terrified. "Please don't hurt me!"

"What the hell kind of test is this one supposed to be?" Cordelia snapped at her, pushing her aside. "This is SO lame! I'm not killing anyone, okay? I'm just passing through. Move this along, already."

"Time's running out!" Willow responded brightly, seeming pleased with herself. "But then, it ran out for you a long time ago, didn't it? At least... for you and Xander."

Then Willow laughed and began to spin around in a tight circle, faster and faster, until her image shimmered and broke up into streaks of light, and then the streaks broke up into more ones and zeros while Cordelia watched.

"Nice effect, but get on with it!" she called out impatiently, and the ones and zeros smoothed back into bands of light, which solidified until they formed another figure, still twirling in a circle before her.

The only other guy who dressed as badly as Doyle, and there he was, looking at her with a goofy smile, and doing a silly little dance, the very image of his tenth-grade self.

"Xander."

The image of Xander bowed as his spinning slowed to a halt. "At your service. Not that you need any servicing, or anything."

"Xander, I...."

Suddenly it didn't matter that she knew he wasn't real. Her anger abruptly drained away, leaving only frustration and an aching sense of emptiness. She stepped forward, to touch the illusion before her.

"Uh, Cordelia? Reality check here." It certainly looked like Xander's dismayed expression as she moved toward him. "Wake-up call, you're Cordelia, I'm Xander, and you do not voluntarily touch me, right? Unless I'm somehow missing the herd of wild horses and the ten-foot pole and..."

"Xander. Shut up." She put her hands on his shoulders, noticing that he was wearing the shirt she had always hated the most out of his entire outrageous wardrobe. "If there's anything of the real you there, not that there is, because you aren't really here at all -"

"I beg your pardon." Xander put on his best 'Max Headroom' voice. "Don't worry, heh, heh, you're just as real as I am. Or should that be the other way around?"

"If there's anything of the real you there," Cordelia repeated firmly, refusing to be distracted, "Then take this from me now, okay? I'm sorry."

"What? I must be hallucinating here, because I thought I just heard Cordelia Chase say she was sorry."

"I'm sorry for the way I treated you, okay? And Willow. And even Jesse, all right? There, you've got what you wanted from me. Does that mean that I can go now?"

She looked at the image of Xander before her, and as she watched, he seemed to straighten up and grow slightly taller, changing before her eyes from the younger Xander into the Xander that she had left behind in Sunnydale after graduation.

"But I don't get it," he said softly. "Where do you want to go? You're leaving? Again?"

"Yeah. I'm leaving, again. But I need you to let me go."

"Why?"

"You've moved on, Xander, out there in the real world. It's still out there, I think. I've almost forgotten it, but it hasn't really gone away."

"Rumor has it. But you can't believe in rumors nowadays."

"Yeah, well, if I get to live, then I'm ready to move on, too. I'd like to live my life, and maybe, just maybe, find somebody else who knows how to make me laugh, and let him live, too. Is that all right with you?"

He didn't answer, but reached out slowly to touch her cheek. She didn't pull away, just lifted one hand toward her face and let her own fingers close gently around his.

"We never really did get to be friends," she whispered. "We were enemies, and then ... you know, and then we were enemies again, but maybe, if you hear me say I'm sorry, maybe we could finally be friends."

Xander gazed back at her in silence for a moment. Finally he murmured softly, "I'd like that," and squeezed her hand a little, before bringing her fingers to his lips.

He kissed her hand briefly, then let it go.

"Apology accepted."

He stepped back from her, half-bowed again, and swept an arm out in a grand gesture, ushering her forward.

"Your doorway awaits, madame."

She still saw nothing but blackness where his hand pointed, but she moved in the direction that he was showing her anyway. As she passed him, she said quietly: "Goodbye, Xander."

"Goodbye, Cordelia." As he began to fade from her sight, she heard his voice, dropping off into a soft echo: "Good luck. You're going to need it."

And then there was nothing but absolute darkness.