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Faster and faster, falling from where he really, really doesn't know.
All he remembers is the shouts and the screams, the fights and the duels, the curses and the spells, the fear and the anxiety.
Happening all at once.
He too was one of those fighting, fighting for the side of light.
For the first time in a long time, he felt alive.
Given the Death Eater he had been facing, some would say he was fighting against his own family.
Those people weren't his family anymore; Remus and Harry and Dumbledore and the Weasleys and James and Lily and everyone else in the Order (with the exception of one greasy-haired git) were.
It had been a ferocious battle, one that seemed to go on forever.
She missed, he taunted.
Then he was hit.
So now he is falling.
All he knows is that he wants to go home to his family, wants to make sure Remus and Harry were safe.
"It's out of your hands."
A voice whispered delicately in his ear, sensing his innermost thoughts.
"It can't be!" he screams back, whether it is mentally he can't tell. The wind around him drowns all words out.
The female voice sighed. "Geez. Stop with the melodramatics would ya? I tried the melodramatic shtick, it obviously isn’t gonna work with someone as stubborn as you. Listen, it will be out of your hands if you don't let me help you." Exasperation unmistakable in every word.
If he could see her face, he sensed she would have rolled her eyes at him.
He was startled; isn't it that when you're dead (which for now he was assuming he was), everything's peaceful?
Funny, this voice was very far from calmness and serenity.
Then he wasn't falling anymore.
The brightness was blinding him.
He could hear the mysterious woman muttering something under her breath.
“I’m supposed to be helping Wesley adjust to being dead, not help some helpless stubborn guy get back to his family. The Powers owe me for this one I swear. Honestly the things I have to do to work for the greater good.”
“You did promise to help the helpless princess,” an amused Irish voice teased. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from but he was pretty sure it was directed at the woman.
“Ah shut up Doyle. Go somewhere else and drink till you can’t drink no more.”
A light chuckle followed soon after that statement.
Then the light got dimmer. Standing in front of him was a brunette woman, quite stunning actually with her tan skin and chocolate brown eyes.
She would be more stunning if she weren't glaring at him, irritation evident in her features.
"Who are you?"
Her annoyance lessened; perhaps she realized she was being too hard on someone who had just died. Perhaps she realized it wasn’t fair to be taking it out on him.
"My name's Cordelia Chase and I'm here to help."
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