She was fighting with everything she had, knowing she wouldn’t be helped, wouldn’t be held close. There was no Angel to sweep in, growling low with his demon face on, and his black coat billowing. No Angel to lift his sword and rescue her from this hell. The warehouse was dark with night and dirt, and she felt her life force draining. The vamp gang was huge, and she was one against many, trying to get her stake everywhere at once, protecting every side.
Angel, her heart cried out. Angel, my love! He was her champion, her closest friend, her boss...and the man she loved. I’ll never get to say goodbye! That thought alone kept her alive, kept her fighting. But soon she was overwhelmed.
“Help!” she screamed.
“I’ll draw them off,” Wesley answered. How had he got there? But then she knew, seeing Lilah Morgan, out of the corner of her eye. Vamps disappeared to chase Wes, and she staked the ones left and fell to the ground in a helpless faint, bloodied and badly wounded. “Angel,” she whispered as she fell.

The said vampire with a soul had gotten his broody butt to Sunnydale with reluctance; he would give advice to Buffy, but she was no longer the love of his life, only a dear friend. All of the Scooby Gang—or at least, the present Scoobies, who weren’t very many—sat in Buffy’s living room, talking. Until Angel’s cell phone rang, surprising everyone but Angel himself. As though it was perfectly normal, he took the small phone out of his pocket, and said in a professional voice,
“Angel Investi—“He stopped with a smile, realizing that he wasn’t currently at Angel Investigations. Then, “this is Angel.” Immediately, his brow furrowed, and he said in an annoyed and worried tone, “How’d you get this number?” A pause.
“Wesley. I thought so.” He leaned his head back for a second. “What is it?”
The other person responded, “Your friend Cordelia.”
Angel’s voice hardened. “What did you do to her?”
“Actually, it was taken care of for me...a convenient accident.”
“What happened?”
“A gang of vampires...too many for her to handle.”
“Who helped her?”
“Wesley.”
“How badly is she hurt?”
“So many questions, Angel.” The woman’s voice mocked him.
“LILAH!!” His voice cracked like a whip, threatening and furious. It was a tone none of the Scooby Gang had heard before, and they were scared. “Don’t you start with me right now. My threats were never idle,” he continued in a dangerously quiet voice, his eyes suddenly switching from his regular brown to demonic yellow.
“She’s dying,” Lilah said in a conversational tone.
“In the hospital?”
“Probably,” the lawyer said offhandedly.
“Put Wes on.”
“He’s...occupied,” she purred. Angel could just picture what ‘occupied’ was.
“Now!” he demanded, his voice still sharp, more commanding than Buffy had ever heard. This was a side of him that was hidden from the people he’d used to know so well. He was different, changed.
Again, Lilah began to speak.
“I said now.” He listened until Wesley came on the line.
“Where is she? And how is she? Lilah wasn’t too helpful. And why in the world did you give her my number?”
“Give me a second to talk, please,” Wesley replied. “She’s in the hospital...she’s stable, they said.”
“Stable? Goddammit, Wesley, if she dies...” he began in a strangled voice, tears in his eyes. He fished out his keys from a deep jacket pocket and swung them from one hand.
“That won’t be necessary, Angel. There’s no reason to blame me,” his ex-employee said in a voice so level it was leached of emotion.
“I’m blaming you,” the vampire answered in a tight voice, “for other things.”
“Please...”
“What hospital?” The subject change was quick. He was given the name, and after listening carefully to the information, he asked worriedly,
“And how are her visions?” He pulled out a pad and pencil, frowning down at the little sheet of white paper.
“She hasn’t had any lately...”
“Then she’s due one in about a...shit! Right now.” He held a hand to his head, his face twisted with pain, though nothing like the agony she must be feeling. “It’s strong, and it’s bad. Are Fred or Gunn at the hospital?” He listened some more. “Good. Get them on the case; I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Right,” Wesley answered, all business.
Angel hesitated. “One more thing.”
“What is it?”
“Thank Lilah...the bitch.” He snapped the phone shut, getting up from the couch and to the door in a flash.
“Angel...where’re you going?” Buffy asked curiously, upset at this sudden change in plans. He seemed already lost in another world as he told her,
“LA; Cordelia's hurt. Call me if you need me again.” He rattled off a cell number, not even nodding goodbye before he took off.

Speeding down the freeway, his only thought was for Cordelia. Was she ok? Was anything broken? How had she gotten in that situation? His mind was in turmoil, his unbeating heart would’ve raced if it could’ve, and he kept absentmindedly switching from vampire to human face. “Cordy, Cordy.” It was a chant...a litany...a prayer. “Cordy. Cordelia.”

Two hours later he raced into LA, cutting the traffic, racing for the hospital before the sun rose. He barely made it, dashing into the shelter of the building just in time. Bursting in, past the guards and nurses, the vampire knocked down anyone who was stupid enough to get in his way as he ran to the ward where she was. She lay in a narrow bed, looking prone and helpless, bandaged in too many places to count, and she was holding her head, moaning with the pain. Gunn and Fred stood guard. “Cordy? Oh, god,” he gasped, rushing to hold her in his arms. “You’re ok...you’re alive!” “What, you thought those vamps would get me?” She laughed weakly as Angel held her tighter, murmuring loving words into her hair. “For a while there—“He couldn’t bring himself to go on. “It hurts...too much, Angel,” she whimpered softly, clinging to him. He wasn’t sure if she was referring to the pain, or his being gone. “It’s ok. I’m here now. You’ll be fine.” And with a shock, he realized who the love of his life really was. He was holding her in his arms right then.