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Author: Morgan R. (Lshallot@juno.com)
URL: http://www.geocities.com/crimsonclad/fanfic.htm,
http://www.escribe.com/movies/bbf/search.html?query=lshallot&mt=&th=&c=30
Summary: The Oracles make a choice
Disclaimer: Joss made them up, I didn't
Spoilers: None recent
Rating: PG
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The Oracles were in debate. 

"The girl is too young," he insisted. 

"That is of no consequence," she replied, waving her hand 
dismissively. 

"I disagree. Her spirit is fragile- too fragile. The burden of 
poverty already weighs heavy upon her. She is not ready-" 

"We cannot wait! A new seer is necessary. The gift must be 
passed on before it is too late. The vampire Angelus has 
great importance in the coming time-" 

"I know. But she-" 

"Has all the necessary traits." 

The male oracle looked away. He spoke quietly. "You 
know, as well as I do, how many things could go wrong. It 
is impossible to even describe how vulnerable she will be. 
You know how evil creatures lust after the power of a seer. 
If they should capture her- if they should gain access to the 
dangers she will foretell-" 

"I understand the consequences. But they are the same for 
any seer, and the warrior needs one very soon. Why should 
you object so strongly to her?" 

He grimaced. "She was not raised for independency of 
mind. She was taught to undervalue herself- and such an 
attitude will not help her. She has been trained to be solely 
ornamental. Furthermore, she has been reluctant to even 
recognize the powers of evil running rampant through this 
world. She will blame the Powers for thrusting her into a 
world she has no desire to see or understand." 

They were both silent for a moment, and the girl's image 
floated in the middle of the temple. She was asleep, her 
long brown hair scattered in rumpled curls across her 
pillow. She was slightly too thin, her skin stretched across 
her high, prominent cheekbones, and there were dark 
circles under her eyes. 

"You know how subversive the evil is in this city," he said 
quietly. "It is an evil that goes on unchecked, lusting after 
power. It is dark and alluring, and this evil will do 
anything, pay any price to own her, if it discovers her. The 
first visions will terrify her, catch her off guard, and she 
will be a supremely easy target." 

"Angelus cannot be everywhere at once," she mused. 

He nodded, slowly. 

"I believe she is exactly the right choice," she declared. 
"Besides, where is she likely to cross paths with that 
infamous vampire- in church?" 

He shrugged in reluctant acquiescence. 

Drusilla turned in her sleep. 

The next morning, she was awakened by blinding pain 
exploding through her head. She saw images of torment 
and destruction, faces she did not recognize, people she did 
not know. There was a man- a warrior- and she was 
supposed to find him, to help him and his battles for the 
light. He had red hair and a beard, and as she lay panting in 
pain after the vision, she knew exactly where to find him. 

But she was afraid. 

And she curled up under her blankets, weeping with 
confusion and pain. Her mother had made her promise not 
to wander through London unescorted, and she was an 
obedient daughter. 

So she tried to forget that man, and she prayed through her 
tears that she would never see such things again. The 
morning sunlight bathed her pale face in golden light as she 
bathed it with tears. 

She was a good girl. 

She was good. 

**** 

Drusilla moaned in pain, her hands weaving patterns in the 
air. 

Angelus caught her around the waist, holding her up as the 
vision rocked through her. He looked deep into her dark, 
mad eyes as they opened, trying to understand their secrets. 

"What did you see? What was in your vision?" 

"Blood," she whispered into the darkness. "Lots and lots of 
blood." 

He grinned as he spun her around, his deep laugh echoing 
down the street. Her own lilting giggle followed, and they 
ran off together, searching for the mayhem she had 
foreseen. 

They neither one of them spared a backward glance for the 
corpse they left behind- the dead body of a bearded man 
with red hair, his screams already forgotten in the London 
night. 

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