Disclaimer: I don't own them, would that I did. The characters herein belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, Greenwalt, Fox, etc. I'm merely using them to tell my own little story.

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"Penny."

The light hand on her arm jerked Cordelia back to awareness of the present. She blinked hard a few times, feeling a bit disoriented, and looked into Fred's wide concerned eyes.

"I'm sorry...what?" she said, stifling a yawn. Lately it seemed like she couldn't get enough sleep. She was almost as bad as Angel had been when Wolfram and Hart were invading his dreams. Cordelia was glad she didn't have to worry about anything like that. She looked at Fred questioningly, and the Texan started.

"Oh! I said penny...you know, like for your thoughts? You looked like you were having some. Some mighty deep ones, I expect...or maybe that's not right anymore, has it changed? Should I have said nickel for your thoughts, or dime or quarter or half-dollar-?"

"No," Cordelia broke in quickly, "The penny won't buy much, but it's still the going rate for thoughts." Seeing Fred's expectant look, she added, "Only in this case, a waste of money, cause I really wasn't having any."

"Oh," Fred said, sounding a bit disappointment. "It's just...you've been awful quiet lately. And you seem...kinda..." Fred trailed off as Cordelia walked away from her, hugging herself absently. The former Pylean slave sighed. "Spacey," she finished for herself, shaking her head. Cordelia showed no sign of being aware that Fred was even still in the room.

Sighing again, Fred slipped into the other room, where three men were anxiously waiting.

"Well?" Angel demanded as soon as she entered.

"Nothing," Fred admitted sadly. "She was all staring and sighing, you know, like she's been, and when I got her to talk to me for a couple seconds, she said she wasn't thinking about anything. And then she just wandered off again, while I was still talking to her. And I called her spacey and she didn't even say boo."

"Damn," Gunn grunted. "Something is seriously up with our girl."

"I quite agree," Wesley said. "Cordelia has not been acting herself for days."

"Do you think it's the visions?" Angel asked guiltily.

"I asked her about that, actually," Wesley said. "She claims she hasn't had any. And she doesn't seem to be in any discomfort. She just seems kind of..."

"Gone." No one argued with Angel's one-word description. They all sat and thought for a long moment before he continued, "You said she's been going out every day this week?"

"Yes, at lunchtime," Wesley nodded. "But that's not unusual. Cordelia frequently takes her lunchtime to run errands and such."

"Still...do we know where she's been going this week?" Angel pressed.

"Followed her yesterday," Gunn admitted. The others turned to him in surprise, and he added defensively, "I was gonna say something."

"Where'd she go?" Fred asked curiously. Gunn frowned, remembering.

"She made a beeline for some little hole in the wall place. Sign said it was an art gallery. She was in there for a couple of hours." Gunn shook his head, remembering. "She looked right at me when she left, but she kept on walking. Like she didn't know me. Maybe she didn't see me, but I sure thought she did."

"I don't like it," Angel huffed, starting to pace. "What do we know about this art gallery?" Wesley shrugged thoughtfully.

"If Gunn has the address we can check it out, Angel." Gunn nodded and wrote the address down on a piece of paper, handing it to Angel. "In the meantime, I suggest we try to keep Cordelia-"

"I'm going to lunch!" The door slammed before any of them could move.

"-here," Wesley finished lamely. Angel looked at Gunn sternly.

"Follow her," he ordered, and tried to stifle a burst of annoyance when the younger man looked to Wesley for approval. Upon receiving a nod of agreement from the former Watcher, Gunn took off. Wesley noticed Fred's puzzled frown and lightly touched her shoulder.

"What are you thinking, Fred?"

"It's just that...every day Cordelia's been disappearing, it's been for longer and longer, right? And then when she comes back she's loopier than she was before. I'm sorry, I know I'm one to talk..." she trailed off, twin crimson spots of embarrassment decorating her cheeks.

"It's okay, Fred. You're right," Angel said.

"I believe so," Wesley concurred. Fred pointed at the wall clock worriedly.

"She just said she's goin' to lunch, and it's only ten o'clock." Fred hugged herself nervously. "That can't be good, right?"

"We may not have time to research," Angel said softly. "I think Fred's right. Something's happening to Cordy and it's getting worse." He handed the address Gunn had given him to Wesley. "Find me a sewer entrance close to that building."

"Straight away," Wesley breathed. "Fred, could you help Angel gather some supplies?"

"Sure," Fred bubbled, happy to do anything that kept her near the dark vampire that had saved her. "What kind of-oh!" she gasped as Angel began removing some fairly nasty looking swords from the weapons cabinet. "Slaughtering supplies," she said. Angel looked at her, and she could see the worry in his eyes. Wordlessly she opened a bag and he set the swords inside with a grateful nod.

**********

Cordelia no longer even acknowledged Hart Anenye when she entered the gallery. Her feet seemed to move of their own accord to the family portrait, to the girl that now was a spitting image of her as a child. Her fingers trembled eagerly as she reached out to touch the girl, though she had no conscious memory of the visions for which she was so eager...

"...you have to guess, Daddy," Cordelia said, hands on hips as he mock scowled at her, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Guess, huh?" he said, appearing to consider that thoughtfully, his hand stroking his growing beard. "Can I ask you questions?"

"Of course, silly. That's the game!" she said, laughing. "They had better only be yes or no though, or else you lose."

"I think I understand," he said slowly. "Well then...is it an animal?"

"No," Cordelia giggled.

"Is it a vegetable?"

"No," she said, dragging out the syllable.

"Is it a mineral?" he asked. She paused, frowning, considering the question.

"I guess...yes."

"You guess? I thought I was the one guessing here."

"I'm not sure, Daddy. But if I ask you then you'll know what it is."

"Oh. Maybe you should ask your momma then. I'm sure she won't tell a soul."

"Okay. Wait here," Cordelia said, turning to run from the room. When she got to the doorway she turned, suddenly panicked. "You're not going to go away, right, Daddy?"

"Of course not," her father frowned. "I swear, Dee, you're always scared I'm gonna run off on you and your momma or something. I don't understand it at all. I've always been here for you, and I always will. I love you and your momma to pieces, my darling girl."

"I know, Daddy," Cordelia whispered, still unable to shake her terrified feeling. She believed her father, but she just knew he was going to be taken away from her. Shaking her head at her own silliness, she skipped into her mother's sitting room.

"Momma?" she asked, and her mother set down her needlework and held open her arms. When Cordelia felt them fold around her she burst into tears.

"My goodness, child, what is it?" she asked.

"I don't know," Cordelia admitted, unable to express what she was feeling. "I just missed you, momma."

"For heaven's sake, Dee. You just saw me an hour ago. Has your daddy been teasing you again?"

"No. We've been playing Twenty Questions. Daddy pretends not to know how to play, but he's the one who taught me," Cordelia said, wrinkling her nose, her mood once again light. The tears were forgotten as if they'd never happened.

"Your father is silly that way," her mother agreed, smiling. "So did you guess what your daddy was holding?"

"No, he's doing the guessing, Momma. That's why I'm here. Is the moon a mineral?"

"You holding the moon, Dee?" Her mother laughed softly, the sound of clinking crystal.

Cordelia opened her palm, and it was suddenly night. She looked down at the moonlight shining from her hand, and closed her fist. The darkness that surrounded her was now total.

"Momma?" she asked, suddenly afraid. Total silence was her only answer, and then she heard the voice behind her.

"Cor-DEEE-lia!" he called, drawing out her name sarcastically. "I can HEAR ya!"

"Go away," she whimpered, crouching down, trying to make herself smaller than she already was. "Go away, Angel. I don't like you anymore." Her shaky declaration seemed not to bother the vampire in the slightest. She opened her palm again and dim light flooded the room, illuminating the yellow eyes and dripping fangs of the vampire. In her child's body the vampire seemed to tower ten feet over her. Cordelia screamed and tried to run, but she was rooted to the spot.

"You can't stay here," he insisted. "If you try you'll be lost forever. All alone. In the dark."

"No!" Cordelia insisted. "You leave me alone, Angel! Why won't you let me be happy? Why do you keep making it dark? Do you hate me or something? You hate me so much you take my parents away?"

"Please," Angel snorted. "They aren't your real parents, Cordy. None of this is real. It's an illusion. Deep down you know that, but you've let yourself get lost. It's almost too late. I've been trying to warn you, but you just won't listen. And now I have to play rough." He reached for her and she found herself suddenly able to scurry back. She felt her back hit the wall hard, and she screamed as he lunged for her.

"No! I won't go! I want to stay!" she shrieked.

"We want you to stay too, Dee," her father said, bewildered. Cordelia saw she was clutching her blanket. She looked up and saw the cheery lit oil lamp illuminating her bedroom, gazed into her parents' loving, concerned faces and burst into tears. Their arms were around her immediately, shooing the nightmare - for that must have been what it was - away, filling her with a warm sense of peace. "We want you to stay with us always, baby. We never want you to leave us."

"I never will," Cordelia vowed, clutching them harder.

"Everything's okay now," her mother soothed. "Hush, Dee. We love you. As long as you stay here, you're safe. You're safe."

*******

"She's in danger," Wesley said to Gunn as he and Fred hopped out of the car. "This place is being rented by a man named Hart Anenye. Mr. Anenye, it will come as no surprise, doesn't exists. And I don't suppose you can guess ."

"Wolfram and Hart," Fred supplied the answer softly, though Gunn already had guessed.

"Angel's bad ass lawyer friends going after his link to the Powers?" he speculated.

"It seems likely. At the very least. they have some interest here."

"But this Mr. Anenye isn't on their payroll," Fred offered softly. "We checked."

"Well, doesn't really matter if it's the lawyer boys or some other nonexistent guy, does it?" Gunn said, resigned. "Somebody's got it in for us. Correction, somebody's got it in for Angel. You know, I get the feeling that stuff like this is just gonna keep happening to us as long as we hang out with him. Cause, you know, he's just not a people person."

"What do you think's happening to Cordelia?" Fred asked in a small scared voice. Wesley looked grim as he opened the sack of weapons, distributing crossbows and axes.

"I suggest we go find out."

"What about Angel?"

"Meeting us inside," Wesley said. "I warned him to wait for us so that we may proceed with caution. We have no idea what sort of threat we might be facing."

"Uh-huh. Angel. Wait. Caution. Right," Gunn said, and Wesley blanched.

"We must hurry," he said unnecessarily as they all ran to the shop door. The door was locked. Gunn looked to Wesley questioningly.

"Slow quiet stealthy break-in or fast noisy everyone-knows-we're-comin bust-the-door-down break-in?" From inside they heard some thumping sounds and a scream they all knew well. Cordelia Chase had a classic B-movie actress scream that would have done Fay Wray proud.

"Break it down." Gunn was already chopping the door before the order was out of Wesley's mouth.

**********

Angel had emerged in the alley behind the shop a few minutes earlier, and had been relieved to find there was enough shade for him to dash to the side of the building without becoming extra crispy. He also had the fortune of finding a broken window latch. He vaulted silently through the open window, landing in a studio of some sort. He briefly took note of the paint and art supplies lying about with a professional eye. Whatever art was here appeared to be of fairly recent vintage. And the brushes and paints positively reeked of dark magic.

Angel poked his head cautiously out of the room and proceeded as quickly and quietly as he could. His instincts were screaming trap, but it was Cordelia who was trapped inside now. Whatever was happening to her was taking place in this gallery, and he was going to get her out of here. As he crept silently through the darkened gallery he was unable to shake the strong feeling of being watched. He realized after a time that it was the portraits that were giving him that sensation; the eyes seemed to be watching him with an intense desperation that was distracting even to someone as focused as Angel. It took everything in him not to stop and stare, but he could smell Cordelia nearby, and that made him hurry on.

When he finally spotted her, he raised his sword and stopped short. Cordelia was standing rigidly, her body jerking with occasional spasms. Her eyes were open but unseeing, her mouth falling open, a bit of drool dripping down her chin. One hand was pressed hard against the figure of a young girl in one of the portraits, and Angel's eyes widened in horror when he realized that the young girl in the painting was glowing slightly, that her features were changing, making her look more like Cordelia. In fact, she looked almost exactly like Cordelia, except her eyes...her eyes had that same desperate expression he had seen in the other portraits. Angel rushed forward and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice from behind him said mildly. He whipped his head around and growled. He had seen this man before, some time ago, when he had tried to hurt another woman Angel cared about. He had only laid eyes on him for a second, but for the vampire it was enough.

"Ethan Rayne," he growled. The man smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"I'm very impressed, Angelus. We never were formally introduced, were we? And yet you remember my name. It's quite flattering, really."

"What are you doing to her?"

"I've done nothing, really. That's the beauty of this particular game, you see. She's done all the work herself, coming here of her own accord, touching the painting...although I must admit I did use a little magic to entice her that first time...but still, she's the one who decided to give herself to her fantasy, all of her own free will. Her essence is now part of the painting, and I don't mind telling you, it's worth a fortune to-Don't!" Ethan cautioned as Angel again went to pull her away from the painting. Angel hesitated for only a split second before wrenching her away. The second she lost physical contact, Cordelia screamed and began thrashing about so violently that Angel was unable to hold her. Ethan used Angel's distraction to try to make his escape. Angel was forced to let Cordelia fall as he leapt across the room and tackled the fleeing man. He knocked Ethan into a wall, knocking several paintings to the floor in the process. Angel threw Ethan to the floor, straddling him, squeezing his head to the side to force him to look at the screaming, twitching girl whose breath was now coming in sharp gasps.

"Cordelia! What's happening?" Angel cried.

"I told you not to do that," Ethan panted. "Once the process is in the final stages, it can't be stopped just like that. Congratulations, Angel. You've just killed your friend."

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