Hi!

Okay, this story needs a little bit of an explanation. I've wanted to write it for a while but I've just got round to it. It is set after Season 7 of Buffy, and in early parts of Angel Season 5. Yes, it goes against the Season 8 comics and no, it has no lesbian Buffy with Satsu (or Satsuma, as I always accidently call her) but meh.

This story does have a serious ongoing plot line and if you figure it out, try not to ruin it for anyone else- that is if anyone reads nobody did, then yes, I would be sad, and eat so much I would turn into a pumpkin.

Well, not really but I'd sulk for a while.

If you notice anything then PM me and I will answer any questions.

Apologies for any spelling mistakes- no matter how many times I read my work through and use spell-check, some error always survives.

And the main character in this chapter will not necessarily be the narrator for the whole thing- in fact, I already know that Buffy and other characters will narrate soon.

I don't think anyone will figure this out, but you never know. If you need a clue, look at the pairing- there will be LOTS of this pairing later on. LOTS AND LOTS.

And one last thing- I can update very quickly. All I need is love, and oh,say, reviews. Just a hint.

xxxxx

Joy Smith sat, curled up at the very back of the coach, and watched the back of the other passengers heads in boredom. She was alone, and there were about three rows between her and the next group of people. This wasn't because she repulsed them ( she hoped.) She had gotten on the coach after them, and as always, she had decided to go to the very back of the vehicle.

Sighing, she leaned her head against the cool glass of the window and looked out across the roads to the burning sunset blazing on the skyline, with the tall office buildings of Los Angeles looking very mysterious, very solid and black with shadows against the blur of oranges, reds, and blues. She watched the other cars and motorbikes zooming past as the coach glided along with ease. It seemed too slow for Joy- the last time she had travelled on a coach had been a few months earlier, when she had preferred to take the school bus rather than walk. The trip had always been incredibly fast, or so it seemed, and the students had had a running joke about the driver, Mr Peterson, a balding impatient man who thought travelling at 60 miles per hour was "a snails pace."

Joy yawned, and stretched her legs, wriggling her toes in her scuffed purple Converse. Maybe that was the real reason she sat alone- maybe none of the other middle aged passengers wanted to associate with a fifteen year old dressed in a pair of black jeans, and a white camisole, with a large baggy shirt with the words "Utah Girl" across the chest in pink. She thought about taking off the shirt but was simply too tired, and nervous.

It was a cold October day; a Monday to be precise. Any other Monday at this time would have seen Joy sat in her bedroom at home, finishing her math homework, or on the phone with her friends Sammie and Kristen, trying to figure out the answers to whatever load of Chemistry homework that they had been given. An hour later, she would be in her pyjamas- a while later, she would be asleep.

Joy's palms were sweating, and she had butterflies in her stomach. She wondered what her parents would be doing know- what do parents do once they figure out that their daughter hasn't returned from school, once they check her room and discover that her clothes are missing?

She felt so guilty for doing what she had done, but she couldn't help it. Her parents would of course take her running away in entirely the wrong context. She could just imagine it. Her dad would be confused, her mother hysterical.

Joy Smith was adopted. She had lived with the people she considered to be her parents for as long as she could remember. She had thought a lot about her real parents- she had been told that they had died when she was much younger, practically newborn. She had lived in a foster home till she was three, apparently and then she had been adopted by Susan and David Smith, a couple who couldn't have children themselves. She had moved in with them into their house in Salt Lake City and had been there ever since. It had been a good life- her parents were a little overprotective, a little disapproving of her dress-sense, but that was regular parent stuff. After all, this was the only life Joy had ever known- and it could have been a lot different, if it wasn't for David and Susan Smith.

She had never pressed for details, and she assumed her parents preferred it that way. All she knew was that her biological parents were dead and they had lived in California. She had been named by her first foster parent.

Joy bit her lip worriedly. She knew that her parents would assume that this was why she had ran away to LA, to find out more about where she came from. The idea intrigued her, but it wasn't the reason , it wasn't her motivation for travelling all these uncomfortable lonely miles. Why would she look for where she came from? She didn't know WHO she came from- her biological parents were dead. Joy was satisfied with that part of her life. She might dream or wish it had turned out slightly differently but what could she do? That was in the past. Carpe diem.

Joy had run away because she was…different. At least, that was what the woman had said.

It had been over a month ago, when the two women had turned up, the dark haired, vibrant girl, and the mysterious red head. Joy had kind of got the feeling they were a couple- there had been an air of intimacy about them that she was sure her parents had picked up on too. It didn't bother Joy but maybe that was one of the reasons her parent had been so cold towards the visitors.

Or maybe it was just because of how the conversation had gone. Her parents hadn't believed a word the two girls had said.

"Demons?" Her mother had exclaimed for days afterwards, "The only demons

I saw were the one's before us, flaunting themselves with their lies!"

Joy remembered the visit as the sat in the coach, and she remembered the things that they had told her, about her birth-right, and how she was special.

"Like Kennedy." The red-head had told her and the dark haired girl beside her had smiled.

Joy had felt sorry for her parents, but also embarrassed. They completely over-reacted when the two women had finished, and when they had told Joy and her parents that they, along with their friends were currently living in LA, her parents had acted like they thought that their daughter was going to be snatched away before their very eyes. No matter how much the women tried to explain, they were not listening growing more and more alarmed by the second. When the girls had finally left, pushing a piece of paper into Joy's hand, Mr and Mrs Smith had been on the verge of calling the police.

Joy pulled the piece of paper out of her pocket and looked at the address, and the scrawled phone number. She had tentatively called the number of the house, and a man named Andrew ( or "Andrew Wells, Senior Watcher", as he had introduced himself regally) had answered. She had been very intimidated and nervous, but she had managed to tell him that she was on her way. For some reason, he already knew about her. She presumed the two women had talked to him beforehand.

Joy couldn't really believe what she was doing. She was travelling all this way, just to visit a group of potentially insane people, just because they had said she was special. She imagined somebody else in this position, like one of her best friends. She herself would have called them crazy, insane. This whole trip was totally insane. These people could be child molesters or circus freaks… they probably were circus freaks!!! She imagined the look on her friends faces if they knew what she was doing. It was a wary look, a look which very plainly said the very thing she had been thinking herself- "What on earth was she doing???"

Joy had a feeling, deep down, that she was doing the right thing. Something was telling her that this was right, that this was what she was supposed to be doing. And it wasn't like she hadn't noticed what the women had tried to tell her- she was incredibly strong, amazingly so. She had been for a while. She could win any fight if she wanted to, she could crush a china plate in her hands like it was a cookie, reducing it to dust. She was strong. She could fight, if she wanted to.

She was normally confident and outgoing, but not now, no matter how hard she tried to cling onto the part of her that told her she was following her destiny. Mostly, she was just scared. A scared and guilty fifteen year old, on a coach to some mansion on the outskirts of LA, where she would, apparently ,face her destiny.

She took a cab to the address the red-head had given her, her heart racing wildly the whole way there. She took out a mirror whilst they were driving and squinted at her reflection. Great. Her dark brown hair was curling everywhere, because of the humid weather, and there were bags underneath her hazel eyes that showed just how much she had been worrying. Ideally, she would have liked to put on a little mascara, or concealer to make herself look a least a little bit human. Just as she was about to pull some out of her bag, the cab pulled to a halt. Shoving her mirror in her pocket she shoved some money at the driver with a muttered thanks and stepped out onto the sidewalk before he could ask her any questions.

She was standing before a huge building, that was clearly old. There were numerous cars parked outside of it, and also something that she knew had caught the cab driver's attention- a large, yellow school bus, not entirely hidden by the large tree that spread it's branches over it's roof.

The building was isolated, the only house on the street. It was at the very end of the road, like a dead end. Joy bit her lip nervously and in that second, she wished she was back at home, in the safety of her room.

But the building, despite being old and isolating drew her in closer, and her feet carried her reluctant body up the drive. It seemed full of life; every one of the many windows were lit up, and she could her music blasting, laughter, and shouting. She suddenly wanted to be in the house, instead of alone on the drive. She had been alone for hours- she had felt alone for much longer. Her fears dulled into a fluttering in her rib cage as she reached the front of the house and reached up to knock on the door. Before her knuckle could make contact with the thick oak, the door swung open before her, and as she pulled her hand back towards her and jumped back, she found herself face to face with a beautiful woman with long blonde hair. Joy immediately lost her voice and found herself in awe of the woman. She looked familiar, but Joy just couldn't place it.

She smiled warmly at the girl in front of her.

"You must be Joy," She greeted her, "My name is Buffy. Buffy Summers. It's good to finally have you here."