"Cordelia," Angel's voice radiated both surprise and alarm at the sight of his friend.  "Wesley, what are you doing here?  And why is Cordelia here?"

Flinching at the blatant blame that flavored his words, Wesley turned to look again at the girl who was slumped against the back seat.  "Angel," he murmured, "Cordelia…"  There were no words to explain what had occurred.  He wasn't even sure himself why he had agreed to the woman's demands, except that she seemed so determined that she was right.  Who was to question the seer?

"Angel, don't.  I made them bring me here."

"Cordelia, you can't even sit up, how could you make them do anything?"  he demanded.

"Hey, Sunnydale's queen bitch here; I'm the girl who gets the job done regardless of the obstacles."  She took a deep breath.  "I'm going in with you."

"No!"

The chorus of no's rang in her ears and she allowed a small smile to brighten her face.  Her guys…  How was it that she had found a family all of her own in the dark and crime-filled streets of inner city Los Angeles?  They were her family and she would never be able to explain to any of them how she felt, even if she had the rest of the new millennia to try.

"That was the vision, Angel.  I have to go with you, we have to go in together or it won't work."

"Two go in…" Lorne warned.

Angel allowed his stare to leave Cordelia long enough to meet the demon's ruby gaze.  The implications were immense and he knew that whatever the consequences, he wouldn't allow himself to be the one to walk back out of that doorway.

"No," he insisted again.  "I won't let you do it.  Look at what happened the last time you fell through a portal…"

Big brown eyes full of longing looked up at him.  "Exactly.  Look at what happened, what could have happened.  I chose to keep the visions, Angel.  I decided not to com shuck with Groo because I didn't want to lose these mind-splitting insights from the PTB.  And now I'm choosing to go with you because, like it or not, you can't protect me from my own head."

She raised her hand before he could muster the words to reply.  "I know.  Really, I do.  I know how you feel, what you want to do.  But don't you see?  It doesn't matter anymore, now of this does.  It's like Doyle said, we have to fight the good fight."

"Doyle was saving a warehouse full of Lister demons at the time, Cordy.  This is just you and me, you don't have to save anyone; you have a choice."

Cordelia looked around at all those who surrounded her.  None of them understood except maybe Lorne and even he didn't look thrilled.  But it wasn't about them understanding, it was about doing the right thing.  "You're forgetting something."

"What?"

Stifling a sudden chuckle at her irreverent thoughts, Cordelia recovered enough to suggest, "my sparkling personality?  No demon could stand a chance against that, even whatever it is that's beyond that door."

"Cordelia."

Sobering, she amended, "no, seriously now, I'm the one who has all the insider info, right?  I'm the one who got the vision.  I have to go."

"Princess does have a point," Lorne offered, quickly quieting when he saw the looks thrown his way.

"I'm going with you."  Cordelia pushed herself out of the seat, struggling to get out of the car as gracefully as possible.  "So help me up and let's do it."

Angel wasn't happy with Cordelia's revelation.  Unsure that he could protect her from whatever lay beyond the portal, he hesitated.  "I don't like this."

She smiled and finally managed to stand up away from the car, three pair of hands helping to steady her as her closest friend fought his inner demons, the ones that told him he was going to fail her the minute they entered the doorway and were gone from sight.

A dim light slowly filled the silent intersection, its source a pair of scarred doors no more than twenty yards from the assembled group.  Light seeped out from the edges of the wooded doors, foreboding and electric in its implication.

Begrudgingly allowing Cordelia to have things her way, Angel reached out to take her hand in his.  "Cordy…"

She smiled again, ignoring the rushing fire that spread through her head and down her spine.  "Like I said, dead-boy, I know."

"Don't call me that," he warned, his old self emerging if but for a moment.

They slowly approached the doors.  Not a sound filled the night as their friends watched their advance.  It seemed too quiet, too still, a warning of impending doom, but neither Angel nor Cordelia paused in their quest.  At the slightest touch of Angel's hand on the door handle, both doors burst open in a blaze of light and roiling electricity, pulling the pair into its vortex just as it exploded out, sending shockwaves of energy crashing into the street.

The rush of energy charged light fled as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the intersection quiet and still once again.  Those left behind picked themselves up off the street and stared in shocked horror at the now ordinary doorway.  Angel and Cordelia were gone, snatched up by the flash of light.

"Now what?  Do we wait here, or…"  Gunn's question died on his lips as he turned to face the slightly rumpled Caritas host.

"I'll make an exception this time… but don't expect it to happen again," Lorne said, his own eyes still focused on the doors.  "When Angel-cakes came by today I told him the only thing I could see: 'two go in but only one comes out', that and the name of this intersection.  He had an idea what it meant, so did I.  I have a felling that's why he was so worked up about Cordy being here at flash and clash time."

"Two go in but only one comes out?"  Wesley reeled at the implications of that simple statement.  "What would have occurred had only one gone in?"

"Couldn't say.  They knew what they were up to though, both of them."  Lorne shook his shoulders, dusting off the lapel of his jacket and turning away from the object of their astonishment.  "The only other thing I do know about this is that there's nothing to be done standing around out here in the damp night air.  I've got a bar to finish."

"Lorne?" Wesley asked, his thoughts in whirling turmoil.

"Go home, get in out of this damp air it's definitely not good for the pipes," Lorne suggested.  "They'll be back when they're done in there and not a second sooner.  Oh, almost forgot, Caritas' grand re-opening is in two weeks.  Come by and have a drink on the house."

~~~

Mr. Bruin stared at the elderly lady, waiting for her to complete her tale, to explain what had occurred when Angel and Cordelia re-emerged from the portal.  He sat and waited for her to say anything else, finally ending the silence with his own torrid curiosity.

"What happened to them?"

She glanced up from the photograph that had somehow returned to her hands.  "Oh, Caritas re-opened for business and was quite popular once again among the demonic population.  Gunn and Wesley carried on as well as they could before they were finally forced to take alternate jobs.  Gunn became one of the most respected spokespersons for a reformed society in LA, he was able to make a great many changes that bettered life here for everyone, not only humans.  Wesley was asked back to the Council of Watchers and accepted a position as their liaison here in California."

"Gunn… you don't mean Councilman Charles Gunn…"

"Yes," she smiled, "So they do still study his accomplishments in school these days.  I'm pleased to hear it although I imagine they have tried to exclude any references there may be to demons.  He would have done a great deal more had it not been for his assassination.  His death and the subsequent reversal of many of his ideals is what instigated the exodus of demons from LA.  Martial law ruled the streets anytime it came to dealing with demons for a number of years thereafter.

He nodded, remembering his mother's stories of watching the last of the demon debates on television when she had been a very young child.  For the entirety of his life however, demons were nothing better than figments of an overactive imagination.  "I remember hearing about that… but I meant, what happened to Cordelia and Angel."

Taking a deep breath, she admitted, "I don't know.  I never saw them again after that night at the corner of Holtz and Seventh.  The building is still there even now, the same doors hang on it, but as far as I know, neither of them has ever re-emerged."

She brushed another lock of hair away from her forehead.  "Wesley would drive past it everyday.  He never gave up searching for a way to get them back.  When Wesley finally returned to the Hyperion that night, he gathered up all the notes and books they had used for trying to help Cordelia's visions and hid them away in the back of one of the closets, beginning a new search for a means of reopening the portal.  He looked through every book and scroll he had, searched the entire planet for anything that might be of use, but he was never successful.  When he passed away, he was still hopeful though.  He kept saying in his delirium that Angel would never let Cordelia come to harm because he loved her… whether he admitted it or not."

"In truth, they all loved her."

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door, startling both Mr. Bruin and the lady who sat propped on the bed.

"Yes?"  She leaned slightly forward, wondering at the reason for the interruption.

"Ma'am?  You've another visitor," the voice called through the wooden door.

"Do I now?  Well, send them in, Janice, and thank you for informing me."  The lady straightened again.  There was only one person who paid her visits so late at night, and she looked forward to his visits.

"Should I leave?" the young reporter asked.

"Not at all, as a matter of fact, this visitor is one that you can appreciate," she suggested, watching the door slowly swing open.

"I know I've told you before, sugar, but I just love what you've done with the place!  I mean, the drapes, the leather, the art… just gorgeous!"  A man resplendent with bright colored clothing entered the room with a flourish. 

The young man sat in stunned wonder.  It wasn't the incredible intermingling of colors that stole his voice so much as it was the visitors green skin, ruby eyes, and horns.  In all his research he had heard hundreds of stories about demons, had seen drawings, but nothing prepared him for the sight that stood before him.

"Shame on you, little lady," Lorne scolded, wagging a finger at her "Caritas is doing booming business and you don't even come by for a look see.  What is this, you can't tell me your getting too old to have your aura read.  I haven't heard a good rendition of 'Row, row, row your boat' in absolutely ages."

"Lorne," she greeted, her smile widening into a full smile.  "It's so good to see you.  It's been far too long."  She held her hands out to him and beckoned him closer to the bed.

Turning to acknowledge the reporter, Lorne approached the bed, perching on the edge of it and clasping her hands in his.  "Yes, it has been too long.  Especially if you've been entertaining young handsome men in your bedroom at all hours of the night ever since my last social call."

Chuckling and shaking her head she returned her attention to Mr. Bruin.  "This is a very old friend of mine, and of Angel's at one time.  Mr. Bruin, I'd like you to meet Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan."

The young man simply stared, unable to form any words in reply.

"Yeah," Lorne sympathized, "I had that problem myself back when I was still Mama's 'little green boo', that's why I shortened it to Lorne.  My pleasure."  He extended his hand to the man, waiting patiently for him to respond.

When Mr. Bruin was finally able to comply, his interviewee cleared her throat.  "Lorne, this is Mr. Michael Bruin.  He's a reporter who's researching Angel."

Lorne's brow rose.  "So you're looking into Angel-cakes, are you?  Let me tell ya', you couldn't have found a better subject if you'd tried.  The hair, the leather, the demeanor… mmmm… Very tasty indeed."

Mr. Bruin sat mesmerized as Lorne and his hostess exchanged pleasantries and caught up on one another's lives.  He left his tape recorder on, allowing it to capture the conversation.  How he would ever incorporate it all into the story he was planning on writing, he wasn't sure, but he knew that he had to try.

A long time later, Lorne stood again, patting the back of the lady's hand affectionately.  "Well, Caritas beckons, my dear.  There's no rest for the wicked, as they say.  I'll be looking for you to darken our doorstep again soon."  He motioned toward the silent reporter.  "And why don't you bring your friend?  Give him a thrill."

Lorne stopped at the threshold, turning back to the pair.  "Better yet, why don't you come along with me, Mr. Bruin?  I'll tell you what I know about 'dark and handsome' on the way.  I believe our girl here needs her rest."

She looked curiously at Lorne, wanting to argue that she was quite fit but knowing all too well that Lorne rarely did anything without reason.  And she had to admit that she was terribly tired, it had been a long day.

"Well…"

She smiled at the man who was so obviously torn.  "Go ahead, Mr. Bruin.  You can return tomorrow if you wish although I assure you, I've related all that I know."

Exiting the room, she heard Lorne's voice as it trailed after them, "So, can you sing?  I've got a fabulous new karaoke machine that I've been wanting to try out for a while now."