The two patients were a married couple, very young. The wife's younger sister, who was still hysterical in the waiting room and being comforted by several friends, had found them. An older gentlemen, perhaps the wife's father, asked after them at regular intervals.
Jamie checked the heart monitor on the husband, Angel Summers according to his charts. He had received a high-voltage jolt of electricity that had stopped his heart. A friend had managed to resuscitate him. As she reattached one of the sensors, she noticed the gunshot scar on his chest and her eyebrows shot up. This was one tough hombre. She looked over at the wife, Buffy, who was being treated for severe burns on her right hand and a concussion. They had yet to regain consciousness.
She picked up a saline pouch and prepared to change the bags. A hand suddenly clamped onto her wrist and she stifled a scream. Mr. Summers was staring up at her with cold, dark eyes. "Where am I?" he demanded.
"S-sunnydale Regional Hospital," Jamie stammered. He frowned.
"I can't be here. There isn't time for this. I have to…" He trailed off and sat up, detangling himself from the sensors. When he went for the IV, Jamie tried to intervene.
"No, sir, you can't do that."
He swept her aside easily and yanked the needle out. "Clothes. Where are my clothes?"
Jamie hit the assistance button. "Sir, please calm down and get back into the bed. You're not well."
"Where are my clothes?" he demanded again, looming threateningly over her. She pointed wordlessly.
Angel dressed quickly. As he pulled his shirt over his head, he caught sight of Buffy in the next bed. With a low cry, her hurried to her side. "Buffy? Beloved, can you hear me?" She remained limp and still, her expression serene. Angel pressed her hand to his cheek and closed his eyes. "I will find her, beloved. I promise I will bring her home." Then he kissed her forehead and stalked toward the waiting area.
Dawn leapt to her feet and flung herself into Angel's arms, sobbing so hard her body shook. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. I should have been there. I'm so sorry."
"You couldn't have done anything," he replied gently. "You only would have gotten hurt." Then he gently set her away and turned to the others. "We have to get back to the house and see if anything was left behind. Some magical trace of who attacked us."
"Angel, are you sure it's a good idea for you to be up?" Cordelia asked hesitantly. "'Cause you were, like, dead an hour ago."
"Someone out there has my daughter," Angel said flatly. "And I'm getting her back. You either help me or get out of my way, because I will destroy anyone who tries to stop me."
Doyle didn't hesitate. "What do you want me to do?"
"Do you know anyone who might be able to figure out who took Caddie?" Angel asked. "Anyone from the supernatural?"
"Lorne," Doyle said almost instantly. "He runs a karaoke bar in LA but he can read people's futures."
Angel nodded and turned on the pair of witches. "You go over the house with every spell you can think of. Oz, try to pick up the scent and figure out where they came from. Giles, I want to know everything about the prophecy about Caddie. It may let us know why someone wants her. And stay with Buffy in case she wakes up." He turned back to Doyle. "We're going to LA. You're driving."
*****
It was called "Caritas" and it was filled with the widest variety of demons that Angel had ever seen peacefully in one place.
"There's a spell on the place," Doyle explained. "Keeps violence from happening inside the building."
Angel grunted, not really caring. "Where's Lorne?"
"Over there. Green with the red horns." Doyle pointed and began leading the way through the crowd. When he tapped the demon on the shoulder, the creature spun around and grinned.
"Doyle! My man! I haven't seen you in here for ages! I was beginning to think you don't love me anymore. How's life? How are the visions? Huh? Huh?"
Doyle smiled tightly. "I moved out of LA, yes I still love you, life's interesting, and the visions are a pain in the ass. We need your help."
Lorne's face fell comically. "I should have figured as much. No one ever stops by for just a drink. Whoa! Hey! What's with tall, dark, and broody here?" He eyed Angel up and down. "Don't tell me this is the warrior you were assigned to, Francis."
"Don't call me that, and yes, he is. Lorne, this is Angel. He used to be a vampire."
"You know, that's not something that you need to just tell everyone we meet," Angel said acidly. "That's kind of personal."
"Don't worry, I can keep secrets," Lorne assured him. "So, what's your problem?"
"Someone broke into my home, kidnapped my daughter, and put my wife in a coma," Angel said flatly. "Doyle says you can help me find Caddie."
Lorne's face grew deadly serious. "My deepest condolences. I'll do everything I can. I just need you to do one thing for me, first."
Angel raised an eyebrow cynically. "And what's that?"
"Sing," Lorne replied.
Angel glared at Doyle. "You didn't say anything about singing, Francis," he spat. Doyle shrugged unhappily.
"That's the way it works, mate. You sing, and he reads your future."
"Caddie is in danger and you want me to sing?"
"I know you're not in the mood," Lorne broke in smoothly. "But I'm afraid that's the only way I can read you. Trust me, I'm not doing it to torture you. Come with me, I have a private room where we can talk." The green-skinned demon led them through the bar into a small, windowless room that had obviously been soundproofed. He and Doyle seated themselves and Lorne looked over at Angel. "Whenever you're ready."
Angel stood for a moment, his mind racing. Finally, he shook his head and cleared his throat. The first thing he thought of was an old Irish lullaby he had sung for Caddie the last time he had seen her. His voice couldn't be considered good, and some of the high notes were strained, but he kept the tune. As soon as he was done, Lorne whipped a notepad from his jacket and began scribbling furiously.
"As soon as you get home, ask the witches what they've found. It's important. Your girl's been taken to another dimension, and her mother went along for the ride. Not her body, just her soul. The key is at hand. Black and blue. There's something important about black and blue." He handed two pages of cramped handwriting to Angel, but when the former vampire examined it, it was indecipherable. "Your witches will know what to do with it," Lorne explained.
Angel nodded, and then extended his hand towards Lorne. "Thank you."
Lorne shook it warmly. "I hope I've helped. When you get the girls back, come visit me."
*****
Willow scanned the pages of runic symbols with greedy fascination. "It's a spell to open an interdimensional portal," she told the others. "Only…It only works if you know where you're going and you have the portal. Are you sure this is everything?"
"Of course I'm sure," Angel snapped. "That's supposed to be important somehow." He jabbed a finger at the strange medallion they had found in the living room.
"Wait a second," Cordelia said. "Look! The symbols on the talisman thingy are the same as those," she said, holding the medallion out for Willow to compare.
"You're right." Willow mused.
"What does that mean?" Oz asked. The scent trail had lead down the street to an abandoned van, but there were no license plates for them to track.
"I'm not sure yet. If this came from the dimension Caddie was taken to, we can use it as a reference to open the portal," Willow replied.
"I'll take the chance," Angel said quickly. "What else did Lorne say, Doyle?"
"Black and blue and…um, something about the key being at hand."
"Oh!" Dawn gasped, her eyes round. "Me! Me, I'm the portal! I-I open portals to different dimensions!"
"Good. We've got everything. Now what do we do?" Angel demanded.
Willow looked uneasy. "I'm not sure about this. The Council said that Dawn could potential destroy the universe if the Key fell into the wrong hands."
"Willow, this it the only way to get Caddie back," Angel said dangerously. "We're going to try it, universe be damned."
The witch hesitated for a moment longer. Then she clutched the papers tightly. "Okay. Uh, I guess the basement? There's more room there."
The group filed down the stairs and stood in a circle on the cement floor. "Now what?" Angel asked. Willow consulted the papers and handed Dawn the medallion.
"Hold this," she instructed. "Does anyone have a knife?"
"Here," Doyle held out a pocketknife. Dawn, guessing what needed to be done, took it from him and slashed it across her palm.
"Put some on the medallion," Willow said. Then she stood opposite Dawn, glanced down at the papers, and began to chant. The words that spilled from her mouth were twisted and garbled, unlike any human language. Willow's voice grew in volume as her eyes clouded black. An ethereal light glowed around her and Dawn, causing the others to step back. Suddenly Dawn threw her head back and screamed. Her body appeared consumed by crackling blue energy.
"Dawnie!" Cordelia cried, and stepped forward. Angel caught her arm and pulled her away. Dawn screamed again and vanished in a flash of light. In her place was a smooth, silver disk with lightening arcing across its surface.
"I'm going," Angel said. "Who's coming with me?" With that, he stepped into the portal.
His next step was on hard, uneven stone, and he blinked in the red light and dusty wind. He looked behind him to see the portal and Doyle stepping through. After a few seconds, Oz appeared. Angel nodded in satisfaction. He looked around at the forbidding landscape. Shattered rock was far as the eye could see. The sky was red and black clouds roiled on the horizon.
"Lovely," Doyle muttered. "Any idea where to start looking?"
"Not really," Angel replied. He shielded his eyes from the sun and scanned the area around them.
"Angel!" All three men turned toward the cry. A slim, blonde woman ran towards them, skidding to a halt to avoid crashing into Angel.
"Buffy?" Angel asked in disbelief. He moved to embrace her but she stepped back.
"You can't touch me," she said sadly. "I don't actually exist."
"What do you mean?" he demanded. She reached up and passed her fingers right through his face. "Oh. Are you all right, though?"
"As fine as I can be." She stared at him with tears in her eyes. "I've missed you so much, Angel. What took you so long?"
"It's only been a day, beloved," he replied. "I came as soon as I could."
Buffy pressed a hand to her mouth, the tears overflowing. "A day?" she echoed. "That's impossible."
"Time moves differently in separate dimensions," Doyle said, looking very anxious. Angel stared intently at his wife.
"How long?" he demanded. "How long has it been?"
She swallowed hard. "Twelve years," she whispered finally. "It's been twelve years."