A Red Cadillac and a Sure Thing

Author: Sweetwater Gal

Joan of Arcadia/Touched by an Angel fanfic

Summary: A battle is brewing for the souls of two angels – and Joan Girardi is caught right in the middle.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Maybe the conception of one wicked little individual but other than that, all other characters from the two CBS shows belong to Martha Williamson and Barbara Hall respectively. I wish I owned Kris Lemche and John Dye... but hey, what can you do?

Spoilers: Joan of Arcadia - Pre "Silence" Pre Season Two; Touched by an Angel - Post Series Finale "I Will Walk with You"

Author's Note: Of course this is all completely AU. I'm a bit surprised that these two worlds haven't yet collided in the crossover fanfic world. Huh. And I realize that I've got just how many uncomplete fanfics still waiting in the wings? I'm a horrible writer.


Chapter One

Sixteen year old Joan Girardi should have sensed that something was wrong the moment he made his way towards her.

Donned in his tan jacket, knowing smirk and youthful appearance, God casually walked towards Joan and leaned into her as if they were the best of friends. His actions did nothing, however, to calm her growing unease and irritation. Unease towards whatever task he had for her this time around. Irritation because no matter how many times God would wave the "free will" card, ultimately the Almighty Itself knew Joan would comply.

The young woman followed suite as she too crossed her arms and leaned against her locker, raising an inquisitive brow at him. "What is it this time?" Joan paused, then added, "And what's with the bag?"

Though she had seen him once or twice with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, this time around God had a duffle bag. Good size, black, and with a red bumper sticker that read "... and on the eighth day, God created Hitchhikers." Mentally, Joan noted that just like the deity before her, that quote did not make any sense.

God hitched the bag, smirked, and as if reading her mind, "In due time it will."

Joan hitched her own bag on her shoulder and with a sigh, "Speaking of time, I'm going to be late for math. It seems that spring time is the perfect time for teachers to play cruel and unusual games with their students in the form of pop quizzes and exams. So if you could just-"

"You up for a road trip?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He gave a nod towards the hallway that was now emptying of its student body. "Everyone's heading to class now, which means that in a few seconds the halls will be clear and we can be able to make a quick exit."

Another blink of her brown eyes. "Come again?"

"You heard me, Joan." He smiled casually, as if what he was suggesting wasn't suicidal both academically and on the home front were her parents to discover her truancy.

As she observed the halls, now nearly empty like God had predicated, "Are you insane, or something? I can't just skip school to go on a road trip with you!" Joan placed a hand on her forehead, as if checking whether or not she had just gone insane. "My God! Even that sounds psychotic! A road trip. With God."

Her reaction seemed to amuse God more than the suggestion of skipping school itself. "Well, Joan, believe it or not but I've even accompanied drunkards to strip bars." He quickly continued as her eyes widened upon hearing such words leave his lips. "This isn't my real body, Joan. Remember? I'm much more and beyond human comprehension. I'm everywhere and with everyone."

A stubborn glare now bore into him, "And why should I follow you this time around? Why shouldn't I just leave you and be a good B average student and head to class?"

She had expected confusing words of wisdom. She had even expected a non too subtle quip. Instead, Joan had gotten a silent shrug from He Who Could Have Been More Clearer.

Before a frustrated growl could escape her lips, "That's it? Nothing? Silence? I can't believe you actually expect me to follow you so blindly!"

He smiled. "It's called faith, Joan. Faith." And with those words, God turned and began his swift, add in graceful, exit.


"Something on your mind, angel girl?"

Monica, whose gaze was initial facing the horizon, blinked upon hearing the familiar nickname bestowed upon her by a dear friend of long ago. And though that wonderful companion, mentor, and surrogate mother, Tess, wasn't here physically, it took little things – such as said nickname – to bring a smile of familiarity onto Monica's face.

Once an inexperienced celestial caseworker, and now a wiser case supervisor, Monica found herself wishing for the past. Especially now that she was blessed with a chance to spend time with another of her dearest friends; Andrew.

"Mon?" Andrew, an angel of death, regarded her with a mixture of concern and inquiry. He had recognized that look on her face. The angel, whom in human form had a Southern gentleman mannerism, knew Monica long enough to realize her wistful, far-off gaze.

And boy was it fortunate that she decided to slip into her daydreamer mode just as they were at the moment pumping gas into her red Cadillac.

She exited the driver's side of the vehicle to join Andrew's side. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. "I was just thinking," Monica began, meeting his green eyes with her own brown eyes. A smile appeared on her face, "How much I've missed days like these."

Knowing what she meant, yet not missing an opportunity to cause mischief, "Oh, I know what you mean, Mon." As Andrew began removing the pump nozzle, "I fondly recall those days of catering to the needs of Miss Tess. Yes, I do remember the," No doubt dropping his tone to mock Tess's own voice, "'Angel boy, pump the gas.' The 'Fix that scratch, would you, Andrew?'"

As he closed the gas tank's door, there was a twinkle in his eye as he continued, "Oh, and of course, how could I forget my favorite instruction of all! 'Andrew! Keep a watchful eye on Monica. God only knows what trouble she could cause if left alone in a Starbucks.'"

Monica's eyes widened as a faint embarrassed blush appeared on her face. Only the Heavenly Father and her closest friends knew of her one human weakness; coffee. She was about to defend herself upon quickly realizing that, "Tess never said that to you!"

"Oh yes she did." He gave a firm nod, though the mischief remained in his eyes.

"When?"

"That day."

"What day?"

"A few years ago."

"A few years?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, do you remember what year it was?"

"Not really..."

With an exasperated sigh, "Andrew!"

Realizing that persistence was another of Monica's endearing qualities, Andrew chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay! Okay, I give. I made up that last part about the Starbucks."

Monica smiled smugly up at him, "That's what I figured."

"But," He started as he casually reached over to place an arm around her petite frame. Giving her a gentle squeeze, "Tess really did make me promise to watch over you." Andrew leaned a bit and placed a kiss on her forehead before softly adding, "And I fully intend to keep it."

The younger angel could feel her eyes begin to mist up. Andrew, dear Andrew, always knew what to say to brighten her spirit. After her promotion nearly a year ago, one that had to allow farewells to Tess, Gloria – a practically newer angel, and friend, that she had gotten the chance to mentor herself – and Andrew, out off the entire group, it was the absence of this green eyed angel before her that felt heavier in her heart. She couldn't explain it, but there was no denying their strong and silent bond. Maybe it came from being eager sidekicks to their glorious Tess. Maybe it came from their relationship growing from tutor-student and eventually partners completely in sync without even realizing. Maybe there was something special about each other that they couldn't quite find with other angels they knew.

Whatever it was, Monica knew for certain that she could not have asked for a better gift from God than Andrew's love and friendship.

And seeing him gaze down at her with a look she secretly knew that he reserved only for her, Monica's heart swelled in knowing that he shared the same sentiments.

"Ready to hit the open road, angel girl?" Andrew reached over and opened the driver's door for her, taking a moment to flourish a bow that caused her to laugh.

Looking up at him, she asked playfully, "With you?"

As he slid right in next to her from the other side, he said, "If you mean one of your best friends and expert navigator, I would think that I'm your angel."

"Huh." Starting the ignition, "For a second there, I thought you were going to name Gloria..."

Andrew tossed her a small glare, which in turn caused another laugh to escape Monica's lips. He reached over to tug on her auburn haired ponytail, "Ha. That was cute, Mon. Real funny."

Once they left the gas station and continued down the highway and eventually into open road, Monica reached over with her right hand to grasp Andrew's own. She gave it an affectionate squeeze, "Okay, navigator, I'm all ears. Where to?"

"Now you don't need me to tell you our final destination."

"Seattle, Washington?" Monica glanced at him with a small smile.

Returning that smile, "Right. Seattle, Washington."

"I just wanted to hear you confirm it."

He began to unfold the map that was sitting in between the pair, stared at it for a minute, then, "But first let's make our way out of the picturesque town of Arcadia, Maryland."


God gazed towards the road, eastward where the city of Arcadia lied. He continued to hold his gaze, a small smile on his teenaged face just as Joan Girardi herself joined his side. With his eyes on the road, and a smirk on his lips, "Three minutes. Not bad, Joan."

Before she began tying her brown hair in a pony tail, Joan tossed a nervous glance towards the imposing high school behind her. "Yeah... well, if you had just given me a quick explanation instead of that 'It's called faith' speech, I would have been out a lot faster."

With his eyes still focused on the open road, "Did it sound too rehearsed? I was hoping for fluidity and spontaneity."

"No, it sounded just fine."

"Really?"

"Left me stunned."

"I was aiming for that. Element of surprise and all."

"You had me at 'What the hell?'"

God glanced down as a soft smile appeared on his face. After which, he returned his gaze to the open road, west bound this time, and began holding his right thumb out. Perfect pose for a young hitchhiker.

Joan tossed a weary gaze his way. "Speaking of which; what the hell are you doing?"

"Ease up on the cursing, Joan. You could scare off the potential good Samaritan."

"Gee," She began, the sarcasm evident in her voice, "Now why would I want to do that?"

God looked over his shoulder at Joan and a slow smile formed on his lips. "Hey, Joan. I have a question."

"One of many..." She sighed. "Go ahead."

"Can you hold your right hand like this?" He held up his own hand at her with only the thumb and the pinkie sticking out. "In Hawaii, the locals call this gesture as a 'shaka.' Loosely, it means 'hang loose.'"

Joan shook her head. Confusion was not a foreign feeling to her in regards towards God's instructions. However, with confusion, another familiar concept was obedience. Slowly she followed suite. "Ohhhkay... and why am I doing this?"

God gave a thoughtful nod, "Alright... uh, Joan? Lower your pinkie finger a bit... lower... low– ah! There you go. Perfect." With that, God took a quick step back and, to Joan's utter amazement, had allowed her to be the hitchhiker.

With her eyes wide and mouth gaping, "Did you just–"

He gave her a silent reply in the firm of a knowing smirk, which only festered her growing annoyance of his company. Before Joan could finish her accusation, and also give a second thought as to actually lowering her right hand, the sound of an approaching vehicle quickly garnered their attention.

He winked and applauded at her. "Wow. See? You're a natural. Good job, faithful servant."

Despite her irritation, Joan couldn't help but feel a slight blush arise. "Are you mocking me?"

"Couldn't help myself." For some odd reason, she detected a hint of flirtation within God's behavior. This lasted for a micro second, however, for the mere thought of God flirting was – if anything – too vile, too out there to comprehend. Unfortunately, that too lasted for a micro second. Especially as he took a sudden step towards her, startling her, and before she could react, he reached over and lowered her raised hand. Staring at her all too intently, he softly smiled, "By the way, you're blushing." And he returned to his current spot behind Joan.

The young Girardi regarded him, both bewildered and – surprisingly – with growing unease. Just as she was about to ask him, again, what was going on, the approaching vehicle – a beautiful red 1972 model Cadillac, with its top down – pulled over right beside them.

"Hey," God walked over to the car. Smiling at the passengers within, "How're you folks doing today?"

Joan observed a bit from the side that the Cadillac's occupants were a couple. They looked a few years younger than her own parents, but there was something about them that Joan sensed made the couple seem a lot... older. The woman, with her own long auburn hair tied in a similar fashion as Joan's, was sitting in the driver's seat. She seemed to radiant in her white top and blue jeans. Joan herself was sporting a simple light blue top, denim jeans, and jacket. This woman, Joan realized, seemed to personify the word 'elegance', while she herself seemed to embody 'average.' At least in her own regard.

The passenger side was occupied by a man with short blond hair. He was wearing an attire similar to his friend; white shirt, blue jeans. Only exception was his black jacket. What Joan thought made him stand out, and in also quite a handsome fashion, was his green eyes. They had this aura of... kindness. Gentleness. Even, dare she imagine, love. And those eyes, at the moment, were now smiling up at her.

"Hello," The woman had an Irish-lit accent as she smiled at them. "Do you need a ride somewhere?"

God returned the kind smile, "Yes, ma'am. My girl and I are heading out west. To Seattle, Washington in fact. If you kind folks don't mind, we'll travel for as long as you'll have us."

Joan had to bite back not just a laugh, but a gawk over the way that God was speaking to these two strangers. She had never heard him speak in such a manner, and if she did, never in that human appearance.

The man answered this time, "Well, we're actually meeting a friend of ours in Seattle."

"Wow," God tossed Joan a wink, once more surprising the young woman. "Isn't that a coincidence." To the couple, "And y'know, they say that a coincidence is God remaining anonymous."

Joan noticed that the couple shared a brief look. It was a mixture of amusement and interest with a tinge of knowingness. She had recognized that look before, more often or not from the being standing right next to her.

"We couldn't agree more." The woman beamed. As her friend stepped out of the two door vehicle, to allow them in, "We'd be more than happy to take you to Seattle with us."

A flicker of panic suddenly seized Joan, especially as she realized just how far – and extreme – God's latest endeavor was going to take her. "Uh," She began, taking hold of God's arm and gently tugging him aside. To the couple, "Excuse us, wouldn't you? I just need to have a small chat with my boy, here." She emphasized her point with a quiet glare aimed solely at God, who only looked on with amusement.

Once out of their earshot, Joan resisted the urge to yell. "Are you insane! I can't just get into a car with strangers! And Seattle? What is going on?"

"You can trust them, Joan." God answered with a calmness that, unfortunately, merely frustrated her. "Trust me."

"I do, but..."

"You have a bad feeling about this?"

Meeting his gaze, her voice revealing more of her vulnerability that she would have liked. "Yes. I don't know why, but I do... There's something about this whole thing that doesn't feel right."

He peered into her, a half smile on his face. Speaking to her more like a human friend than a benevolent deity, "Is it me? Am I giving you the funny bunny wiggly in the tummy?"

Joan, unable to stop herself, cracked a smile. Years ago, when she was just a little girl, the phrase "funny bunny wiggly in the tummy" was created to describe her stomach aches. Her father, realizing his baby girl's illness was no picnic, had coined the phrase in an attempt to cheer her up. It worked for she couldn't stop giggling the more times he would speak those silly words to her. That phrase was also a secret shared between the two that, even to this day, no one else was privy to.

Until now. Though, Joan shouldn't be at all surprised that God knew about it.

"It's not you..." She shrugged, "It's just..." A sigh. "What am I going to tell my parents? What am I going to tell Adam?" She was then struck with a new thought. "And money! I'm not exactly an heiress to a Trump fortune..."

He grabbed her hand, and winked at her once more. "I have it all under control, Joan. Remember, I don't reveal all my plans at once. Where's the fun? Where's the adventure if I did? Just trust me... let's go!"

Sixteen year old Joan Girardi should have suspected that something was wrong. That something was amiss. She should have questioned God's unexpected behavior – which was more fun, spontaneous and , if anything, human. However, Joan was also human herself. She was flawed, she was curious, and even a small part of her felt swept away by the growing sense of adventure waiting for her beyond the Arcadian borders. Besides, she silently figured, at least she wouldn't be going through this alone. God was with her.

And as she hopped in the red Cadillac with him, a few feet away, under the shade of a willow tree, stood a little girl, with glasses, holding a blue rubber ball.

"You're right, Joan. I'm always with you." The little girl whispered as she watched, eyes filled with concern, sadness, and love, as the car drove away.