Mr. Bruin leaned back against the cushioned chair, glancing quickly through his notes and fumbling with his recorder so he wouldn't miss a single word, not one intonation of the story he was hearing.  "Umm, this Lorne fellow?  Who was he?"

"An anagogic demon who had a penchant for karaoke and bright colors."  Another grin softened her face.  "Lorne is still around somewhere, singing and reading like he always did.  With the mass exodus of demons from this dimension, it did make him a bit more wary about wandering around in the open, but he chose to remain behind.  You see, even with the new legislation, his home world was still less favorable."

"And where was his home?"

A deep, dark shadow fell across the woman's generally cheerful features.  "Pylea, a place where singing was unheard of and humans were regarded as cows."

"Cows, you say?"

"Yes, cows to be used for labor and then eaten."

Mr. Bruin watched the woman's steady gaze for a moment.  Whoever she was, she obviously believed what she was saying; he could hear it in the very tone of her voice.  "Oh."

"Angel went to Pylea once; he, Wesley and Gunn traveled there to save Cordelia and they ended up saving even more."  The solemnity faded a fraction as she watched the deepening night that fell beyond her vast expanse of windows.  "But Pylea isn't so important to Angel's own tale as it is to Cordelia and Wesley's."

"Why would that be?"

"Because it was there that Cordelia was a princess and Wesley was a commander.  It was there that they were able to see in themselves that which was already visible to those who were around them and through their experiences they gained a certain amount of confidence in their own abilities and even their worth to the group.  What Angel found there was only the shadow of his own feelings, what he felt himself to be.  But now we need to discuss Angel's visit with Lorne."

"Yes, Ma'am," he murmured, returning his eyes to his notepad and poised pen.

~~~

"No, no, no, you're throwing off the whole schema here, sugar.  What I need is a bartender, not a comedian, capisce?  And what I need more than that, is a bartender who knows how to make a decent seabreeze.  So whad'ya say, go ahead 'n give it a whirl."

Angel walked into Caritas just as Lorne turned his back to the bartender who had answered the 'help wanted' ad, to observe the restoration still in process in the cavernous room.  There were times when he actually was glad that Angel's clunky convertible took out so much of the interior, the place needed a makeover like that little Charlotte Church needed to sing.

"I need your help."

Turning to face his guest, Lorne looked the vampire up and down.  "Angel-cakes… and the leather, nice touch, although the hair…  Well, no reflection will get ya' a pardon on the hair."

"It's Cordelia."

"And if your aura's anything to go by, it ain't good."  He gestured toward a back room away from the clatter of carpentry.  "But with all the pips and squeaks in here, I'll never get through to 'ya."

Angel followed the green host of Caritas through a doorway and into a private apartment attached to the bar.  He waited for Lorne to say something more but the demon simply leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes briefly in relief to be away from the commotion of hammers and saws.

"Lorne."

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Broody, I know what you came for, your aura's screamin' like a banshee.  The problem is, you see, I'm not so keen on tellin' you what you want to know.  I have this thing for friends, yeah, I know, your touched… But the thing is…"  He paused and sighed before trying to continue,  "I don't like what I'm seein' here."

"What do you see, Lorne?"  Angel's patience was wearing dangerously thin and maintaining a level tone was becoming exceedingly difficult.

"Here's the scoop, things don't look good…"

"For Cordelia."

"Woah there, cowboy.  All I'm sayin' is that from what I can see, two go in… but only one comes out."

Angel lowered his brows in confusion.  "Go in where?  Two what?  What are you talking about?"

"Not sure, that's the curse of these things; you see things, hear things, whatever… but you don't always understand what you get.  But I can see that it doesn't look good."

~~~

"Hey, Wes, I'm goin' for take-out.  Want anything?"

Wesley looked up from his books and noticed, for the first time, that Gunn was standing directly in front of him.  "Umm, yes, well, yes."

"What'll it be?"

"Anything."

Gunn nodded.  Cordy's condition had them all in a turmoil too deep to escape even for an occasional meal.  For the first time since joining the team, he wished he had some connections to the seedier demonic world that ran beneath LA's sleek exterior, at least that way he would have someone to go to for some information.  As it was, he was less than content to play delivery boy but needed something to occupy his time.

"There's that taco stand around the corner.  Back in a flash."

Wesley nodded, staring unseeing at the words that danced and spun across the pages in front of him.  None of them had been resting well since the revelation of the intensity of Cordelia's pain had come to light.  His research was nearly at a standstill, or rather was merely leading him round in circles and even with the help of Rupert and the others in Sunnydale it didn't look good for finding a cure.  Anya had called to say that she had located her contacts and had bullied one of them into getting the Placticarion they required, but she had no further leads on the other two missing ingredients. 

 A muffled cry from behind him caught Wesley's attention some minutes after Gunn's departure.  The sound came from the bedroom where Cordelia had been ensconced until a remedy could be found for her deteriorating condition and brought the former watcher to his feet in a rush of falling books and papers.  Dashing past the heavy door, he came to a crashing halt at the bedside, suddenly at a loss.

The young woman on the bed thrashed against the linens in the throes of yet another vision; the third one in less than three days and far too reminiscent of the meddling tendencies of Wolfram and Hart for his taste.  If only they had been able to pin the blame on the law group, they would have a more directed quest to fulfill.  As it was, they were still searching blindly for anything at all that might be of any use.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he grasped her shoulders, holding her secure against the overwhelming waves of pain and terror.  Tears suddenly welled in his eyes unbidden as he fought against the sudden sure terror that clutched at his own heart and soul.  Cordelia wouldn't survive another week if the visions didn't space themselves further apart, and he wasn't sure what any of them would do without her.

~~~

"So you're saying that someone's going to die."

"I'm saying that two go in and one comes out.  I don't explain it, I just relay it."  Lorne leaned back and sipped at the slightly watered down seabreeze he held.  Some bartenders just couldn't mix a decent drink to save their hides.

"Cordelia's life is in danger.  I need more information and I need it now."

"Look, hotpants, I know all about Cordelia, and believe me when I say that there isn't a thing I wouldn't do to help the pretty little thing, but the reality is that I'm not getting anything other than what I already told you.  Maybe I'll stop by and pay a visit to the princess, bring her some flowers."

"She's at the hotel."  Angel turned on his heel and stalked from the apartment.

"I'll go by there today," Lorne promised, already deciding on flowers for the beleaguered starlet and searching his thoughts for any of his abilities that might help.  "Angel?"

He stopped just before he had fully exited the room, turning expectant eyes on Lorne.

"Holtz and Seventh Streets.  There's a doorway, I don't know where it goes but you're supposed to go through it.

~~~

"Holtz and Seventh."

Wesley looked up from the desk.  After sitting with Cordelia as she recovered from the initial phase of her latest vision, he had returned to his research more dedicated than ever before.  Angel's reappearance so soon after he had left was a surprise however.

"What?"

"Holtz and Seventh.  There's a portal, a doorway.  I need to know where it leads."

"Alright then, let me just…"

"Wes…"

Wesley, alarmed by the new emotion in his friend's voice, paused in his actions.  "Yes, Angel?"

"I need you to take care of Cordy.  This place… I may not be able to…"  Angel stopped trying to put to words the inexplicable.  "Don't let her feel guilty, you know, if I don't…  Tell her that she's worth whatever it takes… even if that means… you know."

"Yes, yes, I do.  And I'll try to convince her of it as well, but Angel, don't give up on your own survival.  I agree that we must find a way to help Cordelia, and I agree that there is no price too high, but remember that she will never forgive you if you foolishly allow yourself to be killed because of something having to do with her.  Perhaps more importantly, she will never be able to forgive herself, regardless of what platitudes I may provide her with."

"Try."

Sighing, Wesley gave up his discussion and returned to the newest research demand, rapidly finding the requested information.  "Here we are.  Holtz and Seventh Streets seem to intersect with an inter-dimensional portal that appears to lead to… oh."

"Where, Wesley?"

The younger man looked up from his books, concern palpable in his expression.  "Well…"

"Cordelia's life is in danger, Wesley.  Where will the portal take me?"

"Sometimes these old texts are severely outdated, it may be completely off when it comes to pinpointing locations and portals."  He looked into Angel's eyes, clearly reading the warning that was there.  "It will lead you back to hell."

"That's what I thought."  Angel turned to the weapons cabinet and removed an axe, a sword, and one of the more despicable looking fighting clubs before striding to the door.  He stepped out of the hotel and into the moonlight that pooled across the sidewalk, never even pausing as he marched toward his doom.

~~~

"Angel played the part of the hero quite well," Mr. Bruin commented.

"That will happen when one is a hero," his interviewee suggested.  "Angel did what he thought needed to be done, he didn't consider it to be remotely heroic.  There was a time when his actions may have held a more selfish tinge but that faded with the growing fondness he had for those he worked with.  He would have done anything to help Cordelia, Mr. Bruin, even sacrifice his own existence.  He had been to hell once before, sent there at the end of the slayer's sword, and he came back an animal thanks to his experiences while there, so he was well aware of the possibilities and was more than willing to risk the same."

Thinking for a moment, she added, "Cordelia would have pitched a fit had she known what he was doing that night.  Oh, she never would have agreed to his possible sacrifice.  Never."

A knowing smile on his lips, Mr. Bruin nodded amicably.  "I'm sure she read him the riot act when she next saw him."

"No, she was never given the chance."

~~~

to be continued (I lied, there are a few more chapters)

{Author's note: tonight (5 Dec 2001) was the first viewing I've had of any of the episodes of this season… Finally I can use something a little more reliable than my memory and the pilot episode on which to base my characterizations… here's to hoping they improve!}