Angel's heart swelled with joy at the sight of Cordelia standing before him; healthy, vibrant, showing no trace of her ordeal. Wesley was equally overjoyed.

Angel had been rather depressed lately, Wes mused. The compromises necessary to fight for the greater good while maintaining Wolfram and Hart's bottom line had taken quite a toll on the vampire. It hadn't been easy for any of them to make the adjustment from killing demons to treating them as valued clients.

But now, after all this time, Cordelia had been restored to them, just as Angel was about to quit Wolfram and Hart, to abandon his position as CEO of the Senior Partner's most influential branch. To once more take up the mantle of Dark Avenger, righting wrongs on his own; leaving behind the endless mundane details of running a large organization. Details which used up all his time and energy, preventing Angel from confronting evil directly, forcing him to spend his days serving the very beings he once fought.

Yes, it was good that Cordelia had returned; she was the only one who could get Angel back on track.

"You'd think Miss One Foot In The Grave would get a private room," Cordelia quipped lightly, closing curtain around the room's other occupant. She seemed eager to escape the confines of the hospital room; Wesley couldn't blame her. She and Angel headed out the door.

Out of morbid curiosity, Wesley pulled the curtain back. He reeled. "Angel," he said urgently, gesturing to the thin, wasted form lying unconscious on the bed, "I think there's something you should see."

Angel turned around. "What is it Wes?" he asked, slightly irritated. He looked down at the pitiful young woman who lay in the bed, various tubes protruding from her emaciated body. For a moment, he was frozen with shock.

'Cordelia' tried to run. Moving with lightening speed, Angel grabbed the impostor's throat. Lifting her off the ground, he put on his game face, and growled, "Who are you? Who sent you and why?"

The End.