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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"Oh my God," Wesley panted as he, Gunn and Fred rounded the corridor in time to hear Ethan's last words. He immediately knelt with Fred at Cordelia's side as Gunn moved to take Ethan from Angel. As soon as the younger man had a hold of Ethan, Angel moved to Cordelia's side. She had stopped screaming, but her body was still shuddering violently.

"What do we do, Wes? Rayne says she's trapped in the painting," Angel said urgently.

"I'm not familiar with this sort of magic. Some kind of transference spell?" Wesley asked, looking at Ethan sharply. The erstwhile magician looked away casually, and Gunn jerked his head back around, his hand on Ethan's throat menacingly.

"The man asked you a question."

"You can't save her. She has to save herself, and, trust me, she hasn't the will to do it."

"You don't know Cordy," Fred said sincerely. She hadn't let go of her friend's hand, desperate to find some way to help. If not for Cordelia, Fred would still be lost in Pylea. There was no way Fred was leaving her lost in some nightmare work of art.

"She had to touch the painting to lose her essence. Does she need to be touching the painting to get her essence back?" Angel growled. Ethan rolled his eyes.

"You're not listening. It's too late. She's going to die, and there's nothing you can do-" Ethan was watching Angel warily, therefore was caught off guard when Wesley pointed a cross-bow at his stomach, his eyes hard and cold. When he spoke, his tone was mild but clipped, and no one had any doubt he meant every word literally.

"You had better pray that that's not true, because I assure you, the moment Cordelia Chase dies is the moment you do as well. Now tell us how we can save her."

"If one of you connects her essence to her body, and convinces her to return, fully...but you haven't much time."

"How do I do it?" Angel asked.

"Angel, do you think you should be the one-" Angel silenced Wesley with a look.

"How?" he asked Ethan again.

"Grab her hand in your right, touch the painting with your left. Then you're going to have to convince her to come with you. The longer it takes, the more likely you'll trap yourself in there with her as well." Ethan's eyes glittered for a moment. "If it wasn't for your friend's eagerness to kill me, I'd tell you to take your time. As it is, I'll just wish you Godspeed."

Angel lifted Cordelia, whose twitches were growing weaker, and held her close to his side, his right hand grasping hers. Then he spread his palm completely across the painting...

And found himself in a sunny sitting room. His instinctive reaction was to get out of the sun, but he was relieved to find it had no effect on him. He heard running footsteps and a young girl burst into the room, her father at her heels, He caught her, tickled her for a moment before swinging her into the air. Her joyful laughter bounced off the walls, and Angel started. He'd know that laugh anywhere.

"Cordy?" he called. Her head whipped around and she screamed. Angel was taken aback at the abject fear in her eyes.

"Who are you, sir, and what have you done to my daughter?" the man asked hotly.

"Make him go away, Daddy. He's not supposed to be here. Make him go away!" The man advanced on Angel, who ducked under his clumsy punches, trying not to hurt him.

"Cordy," Angel repeated. "Cordy, we've got to get out of here. You can't stay-"

"No!" the girl wailed. "Don't you do it, Angel! Don't you make my daddy go away again!"

"Cordy, you've been trapped here, and you're dying. Gunn and Wesley and Fred, we're all here, but there's nothing we can do...if you don't leave this fantasy you're going to die, and I..." Angel took a shuddering breath. "I don't want to lose you."

"Daddy, stop!" Cordelia said, and her father immediately complied. "Angel, is it really you?"

"Yes, Cordy, I'm here in the painting with you. I came to rescue you, just like in Pylea...well, not exactly like Pylea...actually, it's not really anything like-"

"Angel. Stop. I don't need rescuing. I'm finally where I belong. My parents are here, and they love me and take care of me, and I have everything I ever wanted. If I'm dying, it's really okay because I'm kind of already in heaven, you know?"

"No," Angel said. "No, it's not okay. This is all wrong, and you know it, I know you do. I know that because I never met anyone with a greater sense of right and wrong, who faced challenges with more courage. What do your senses really tell you now?"

"I'm happy here, Angel. Really happy...please..." Cordy begged, looking at her father again. He was looking at her lovingly.

"Was it so bad, out there? With me?"

Cordelia thought hard. The visions, the violence, the constant struggle...and then that feeling of making a difference, the casual but loving camaraderie between the group of them...she blinked at Angel.

"It absolutely stank...but it wasn't so bad," she said.

"I know it's hard. I know it hurts, a lot sometimes, and this feels better...but Cordy, we need you. We love you. And we're real. This is just a trick." Cordelia's head dropped. She knew deep down that Angel was right; after all, the Angel her mind had created had been trying to tell her all along.

"Daddy?" Cordelia said, tears coursing down her face. It took everything in her not to fall back into his arms, to simply tell Angel to go away.

"I love you, Dee. My darling girl," her father said softly. "You're safe here, for always. You don't have to leave."

"Oh, God," Cordy moaned. "Yes, I do...I love you Daddy, but I do..."

Angel reached out his hand, and Cordelia grabbed hold. There was a flash and she took a deep shuddering breath, finding herself in the gallery, in Angel's arms. Angel immediately yanked his hand off the painting as if it had burned him, looking at it with a sense of revulsion. Cordy kept her eyes averted from it, her whole body quaking in grief.

"Angel, are you both alright?" Wes asked softly. The vampire looked down at the girl in his arms, and handed her to Wesley and Fred, who gently took hold. Sobbing, Cordelia buried her head in Wesley's shoulder and he stroked her hair, seeming unsure of what to do. Fred smiled gentle encouragement at him as she wrapped her arms around them both. Angel watched them, grimly nodding.

"Take care of her," he said. "I've got something to take care of." His voice was so full of anger that Wesley swallowed his questions. Gunn, on the other hand, chose the opportunity to choke his captive a bit harder.

"Would I be holding that something, by any chance? And can I help with the care taking?" Gunn asked coolly. Angel's eyes were gleaming yellow as he turned towards them.

"Look here, old man, I'm certain there's some way we can work this out-" Ethan began, sweating profusely.

"How many?" Angel asked, and Ethan tried to look innocent, failing miserably.

"Pardon?" he hedged.

"How many people like Cordelia? How many have you trapped here?" Angel demanded. Wesley and Fred attempted to quasi-carry Cordelia away from the scene, but she somehow stood her ground, eyes closed, her cheeks wet with still more tears.

"It's not like I've exactly been counting...ow!" he cried when Gunn squeezed tighter. "Look! I'm just a businessman. I have clients, they have needs..."

"You're selling souls," Angel growled.

"Not souls. Essences. If the person isn't interfered with they're perfectly fine, they just have a little...less personality than before. Okay, no personality, but-"

"Who are your clients?" Angel interrupted, and Ethan appeared relieved to be able to shift the focus from his own role.

"I don't know, exactly. Honestly, I don't!" Ethan gave a panicked yelp as Gunn's arm tightened, temporary cutting of the air to his windpipe. There was genuine fear in his voice when he hastily continued, "The deals are brokered through a law firm...Wolfram and Hart."

"They ordered you to hurt Cordelia?"

"They ordered essences. Names were never mentioned. My spell was only designed to lure the lost...which apparently your Miss Chase faaaargh!" When Gunn again loosened his grip slightly, Ethan finished, "They're picking up all the paintings tonight." He looked as if he wished he hadn't told them that part when he saw the smile on Angel's face. Angel looked at Gunn and Wesley.

"Get everyone out of here," he said. Gunn looked at Ethan questioningly, and Angel nodded with a look of disgust. "The trash, too. Go back to the office and wait for me. And take care of Cordy."

Gunn half-dragged Ethan from the gallery, followed close behind by a dazed and crying Cordelia being supported heavily by Wesley and Gunn. She had yet to speak a word, and Wesley and Fred exchanged worried glances.

"What do you think he's doing in there?" Fred asked curiously. Wesley had his suspicions, but wisely kept them to himself. Ethan coughed weakly.

"Is the death grip absolutely necessary?"

"Nope. But it's fun," Gunn said with a humorless smile. "You see, you mess with Cordy, you mess with all of us. And we're not the live and let live types."

"I'm getting that," Ethan wheezed.

"Let him go," Cordelia said hoarsely, and they all looked at her in surprise. She was standing on her own now, her face still red and blotchy from her tears, somehow seeming smaller than she was before. But the glare she threw Gunn's way was vintage Cordelia.

"But Angel-" Gunn protested.

"Just let go of him," she said wearily, and there was something in her voice that made Gunn obey immediately. Ethan immediately regained his suave demeanor as he approached Cordelia, who simultaneously moved towards the devious magician.

"Glad to see someone around here is gracious in victory. You are truly a charitable AHHHH!" Ethan screamed as Cordelia's foot kicked up and into his groin. Wesley and Gunn couldn't help but wince, while Fred grinned broadly. Cordelia reached down and yanked the moaning man's head by his hair, forcing him to look into her eyes. Hatred underlain by a profound sadness was what he saw in their depths.

"That was for Dee," she whispered, releasing his head and rubbing her hand against her pants leg as if she had touched something particularly vile. She seemed to be contemplating another kick for good measure, and Ethan whimpered, cradling himself pathetically. Finally she looked at Gunn pleadingly. "Get him away from me."

Gunn grabbed the man by the wrists and dragged him into a nearby alley, not stopping until he was out of their sight. He stoically ignored Ethan's pitiful cries. Wesley knew his friend intended to punctuate Cordelia's revenge with some of his own, and he knew that he should put a stop to it. Somehow, looking into Cordelia's hollow eyes, he just couldn't motivate himself to move to do that with any alacrity. Fred's hand on his arm distracted him from that moral dilemma.

"Do you smell something? Smoke?" the Texan asked, her nose wrinkling.

"What?" Cordy's head whipped towards Fred then back towards the building as Wesley's cell phone rang. He answered it quickly.

"Angel?...No, no we haven't left...yes...yes, I see...of course...right away." He hung up the phone quickly and turned to the two women. "Get in the car. We've got to move. Now. Gunn!" he hollered.

"Angel set the building on fire," Fred surmised, not without a little excitement. Cordelia nodded thoughtfully.

"Now!" Wesley repeated, and Fred and Cordy hurried to comply. Grumbling a bit, Wes stomped down the alley, stopping when he saw Gunn groggily sitting up. Ethan was nowhere to be seen. "Oh dear, what happened?"

"Dunno...where's...?"

"Never mind, we must get out of here." He helped Gunn to the car where the younger man took a seat next to Fred in the back. He looked at his lap guiltily when Wes said tersely. "Rayne's gone."

"I'm sorry," Gunn said. "I don't know what happened...Cordy..."

"It doesn't matter," Cordelia said. "It's over." And they rode the rest of the way back to the hotel in silence.

*********

Later that night, Cordelia heard a tapping so light it almost wasn't a knock and sighed, putting her book aside.

"Go ahead, Dennis," she said softly, then said in a louder voice, "Come in, Angel."

The vampire opened the door slowly, clearly surprised. Cordy stood and turned towards him, her drawn, unsmiling expression breaking his heart. She hadn't looked this pained even after the worst of her visions.

"How did you-" Cordy gestured around the room.

"Wes brought some books, Fred brought some tacos, Lorne brought a disco mix-tape, which he threatened to take away if I tried singing any of the songs at Caritas..." Cordy gave an almost smile as she continued, "And Gunn hasn't left. You were the only one who hadn't come by. " She gestured at the sofa where the young man lay, lightly snoring. Dennis was lightly laying a blanket on top of him.

"Oh. You shouldn't leave the door unlocked," he said absently. Cordy looked mildly annoyed as she pointed at the drifting blanket and he hung his head. "Oh, right. Dennis..." he trailed off awkwardly. "Cordy..." he began, but stopped when she held up her hand wearily.

"Angel, can we not? Please. Not right now..."

"That's fine," Angel said quickly, almost relieved. "We don't have to talk about what happened if you don't want to. I just wanted you to know something." She waited expectantly, her eyes widening in disbelief as he pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her hair. "I...we...you know we..." Cordelia smiled, the first genuine one she had that day. Angel's typical inarticulateness was so familiar to her, so loveable...

So much like family. So much like home.

"I know," she whispered comfortingly even as she was comforted by the feel of this leather coat against her cheek. Something deep inside her let go and finally flew free. She suspected that she might not be visiting too many more art galleries. At least not alone. "I know," she repeated. "Me too."

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