to cajunqueen: Sadly not from New Orleans, but I have something like an obsession for that city, so it had to eventually show up in one of my fics :) And from now on promise to write bayou correctly :D

Part 4
Burial grounds


Joy was staring at the ceiling, a smile she just couldn't shake off imprinted on her lips. She was in the Summers house! She had met her mother and she had no idea of what was to come in the next few years. Oh, she wouldn't even be able to guess! And her aunt Dawn, exactly like her mother had described her. In some ways she wished she would have gone even further away in the past, so she could have meet her grandmother, of whom only a few half burnt pictures existed in her time and whose grave was buried under the ruins of Sunnydale. Not even that much was left of her. She only continued to live in the memories of those who had known her and survived Sunnydale. She felt sorry for Dawn - she felt sorry for too many, she taunted herself - she would go so young. Only ten years old if she counted the real time of her existence as human. She wouldn't die in Sunnydale, but a little later on. People said she went insane after the tragedy of the hellmouth. But Joy remembered her, an image that floated in her mind in a thick fog. A sad girl with hair as white as hers, with eyes as black and deep as the ocean itself. Why had her eyes gone from blue to black? She called them her eternal mourning. Once she had discovered that because she was created, not born, she could change her physical form as often as she liked, she had made her eyes black. Strangely enough, she didn't turn her hair back to brown. It was a statement of her survival. It screamed to the world, I've seen hell and it only made me laugh! She had become powerful and inhuman. She was beyond flesh, beyond life, she was eternal. Joy thought that to be the reason of her demise, but in the eyes of the world she had only been insane. As for her mother, she had never told Joy about it. She still thought she didn't know what happened to Dawn.

Maybe she should have died in Sunnydale, Joy thought. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She was sleeping in her mother's bed. The same bed she had slept in when she had been her age. She missed her so much...She looked over at Cordelia who was sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed. She felt out of place, Joy knew it. The only person that seemed to give her some kind of comfort was Connor. The feelings of the old Cordelia had surfaced, but she wasn't able to name them. She had strange feelings for Angel. Was it love? She often asked herself. Maybe it was and she was making a big mistake. And the slayer, she had awakened some sort of feeling of irritation and familiarity in her. Had she liked the slayer? Did she have some bone to pick with her? On the other hand, she felt good when she saw her. Can you miss and not like someone at the same time? She must have been a strange person, Cordelia had thought to herself.

The sun was peaking through the curtains of the room. Joy just couldn't find her place. She couldn't sleep knowing where she was and what she might be missing out on. She was too excited by the whole thing so she stood up and took out her glasses, put them on her nose before putting on her boots. She looked at her mantel disregarded on a chair. She didn't bother to put it back on. She had only worn it when she had gone to LA in her time, so she wouldn't be recognized. She was pretty known in the demon world and her appearance wasn't exactly something common, so she had taken one of the mantels her father wore to walk outside in daylight. She looked at herself in the vanity. Her hair was as white as always, the red lightning like symbol still crossed her face. There wasn't really anything she could do. On second thought she could do something. She wiped away the black lipstick.

"There, makes you look more human," she told herself out loud.

"Not if ya ask me," Jacques' voice said and she turned around to see the cajun standing with his arms crossed over his chest behind her.

"Gee, and me thinking you forgot about me," Joy smiled.

"I, chere? Never. Can't forget I got ya in this mess and I got to get ya out," Jacques reminded her. "So anythin' happen? Beside you meetin' your moma and tante Dawn?"

"Blacked out once," she told him as she stood up and looked at herself in the mirror again.

"Gotta keep in mind this ain't your time, Joycie. One too many memories of home sweet home and petite Joy, she is gone," Jacques warned her.

"Well, eventually, petite Joy will be gone anyway," she reminded him.

"Jacques still workin' on it," the cajun assured her, but Joy knew better. Once her parents won't be together anymore, she was going to fade away along with the future she called home. Bloody Joy would be gone forever.

"Let me know when you do," she told him before he disappeared. She could hear commotion outside. She looked at the clock. It was past 7 a.m. She glanced at herself in the mirror one last time before stepping outside the room and leaving Cordy to rest. She almost bumped into a furious Dawn who stormed to the bathroom door yelling for Buffy to get out already.

"Already out!" a voice yelled from downstairs.

"Then who..." Dawn started, but immediately realized who it was. "Willow!"

"All right, all right" the witch's voice was heard from inside.

"Willow?" Joy asked with a smile.

"Oh, hi," Dawn noticed Joy. "Willow lives with us. She's...like a family friend."

Willow marched out of the bathroom to Dawn's relief. She stared at Joy for a moment not recognizing her and then headed downstairs while Joy took some time to explore the rest of the floor. As Willow crossed the dark living room, she wondered what had happened the previous night. She remembered the ringing of the front door at some point in the night, but she hadn't bothered to wake up. She noticed someone was sleeping on the couch. No one she knew, she thought as she walked over to the curtains and pulled them open. The light revealed to her that there wasn't only one person in the living room besides her. She let out something like a screech, a held back scream. There were two and one was Angel, who was still his vampiristic self as she noted when the sleeve of his shirt caught fire. She quickly pulled the curtains back together and turned out his shirt with a small spell. She was surprised he hadn't woken up. Then again she was surprised he was there in the first place.

"Is it just me or there's a lot more people in this house than when I went to sleep?" Buffy rose her eyes towards her as she entered the kitchen. 'Angel?' Willow's lips formed the question without letting out a word.

"Yeah, he came this morning," Buffy told her as she flipped a pancake. "He has some demon business to take care of here. And I'm gonna help."

"Oh. Sure that's all? He didn't go evil or doesn't want to save you from a life of counseling disturbed teenagers?" Willow half-joked.

"No, nothing like that. He has a client with business here. Some demon related thing," Buffy assured her. Willow was skeptical of the whole thing, but didn't insist on the issue. Xander would come soon and he'd definitely insist on it. "It's gonna be just like old times. Not exactly like old times, but...you know what I mean," she looked at Willow for understanding.

"You're going to sneak into graveyards and instead of slaying you'll be making out? Those old times?" Willow taunted her with a smiled on her lips.

"No," Buffy tried to seem serious, but only managed to look silly holding back a big smile. "We used to do that a lot, didn't we?"

"Oh, and you thought no one knew," Willow reminded her. "But we did. You were even driving away the undead with those smooching sounds." Buffy chuckled. Those times seemed so worry free right then.

"Morning," Buffy welcomed Joy as she entered the kitchen.

"Good morning," Joy smiled. Everything felt so strange, yet so right. Her mother, her aunt Willow and Dawn... She wished time could somehow turn back and never change again. She just wanted this tiny corner of perfection, she asked nothing more of the world. Just time.

"Couldn't sleep?" Buffy asked as she flipped her pancake on the pile with the others.

"Yeah, kinda nervous about tonight," Joy told her as she sat down at the table. Mom never made pancakes, she remembered. She had to endure her uncle Remy's special gumbo surprise pancakes. Her stomach turned upside down just at the memory. He might've been a great wizard, but he was no cook. Or her father's funny shaped ones, but those weren't half bad. Her father had told her, her mother couldn't bring herself to do some things anymore. Like she couldn't fight demons or make pancakes, she thought. "I'm scared that maybe that cure won't work and I'll have to kill my brother. I don't want to do that."

"Don't worry. It'll probably work," Buffy tried to assure her, not sounding too convincing though. "This is Willow. She lives here. She moved in to take care of my sister while I was...indisposed."

"I'm Joy," she introduced herself to the witch she knew so well.

"Hi," Willow stole a pancake from Buffy's plate. "So I guess you're Angel's business, right?"

"Yeah, that'd be me," Joy said, unintentionally staring at her. Willow was one of the very few legends that still lived in her time and was as strong and glorious as in the past. She was still a powerful witch, she still fought evil, but unlike her past version the Willow she knew traveled the world constantly and had reached a great status of fame, controversy and wealth. She had gotten rich out of something she had considered an ethical problem that needed to be questioned, but instead it had been accepted as a cheap thrill by the masses, just another public display of one person thrashing another. But unfortunately the person Willow had attacked wasn't alive anymore to stand up to her accusations so Willow became one of the most controversial persons alive in her time. Her aunt, cause that's what Joy considered her to be, had told her that sometimes she was afraid someone would spit in her face or worse when she ventured into a supermarket. Joy had never hated her for what she had done and said, because unlike millions - billions of others, she knew she had been right.

Willow turned away uncomfortable under her glance. Only then Joy realized she hadn't blinked in the last couple of moments.

"What are you after? I mean what kind of demon are you after?" Willow corrected herself.

"Gholas," Joy simply said. Meanwhile in the living room, Connor stirred awake. Even if he was used to more commotion than the one coming from the kitchen - in Quor-toth he usually had to sleep through endless screams, mayhem and gore - somehow he just couldn't find his peace in this place. He picked up strange vibes from everybody in that house. The slayer, her sister, the witch who thought he had been asleep, but most of all it was that girl, Joy, she just did not belong in this world. His father was acting strangely and above all Cordelia wasn't feeling at place here. He stood up, for a moment contemplating if he should step on his father, but decided he liked him better asleep than awake. At least then his mouth was shut. He decided to go to the bathroom before going into the kitchen and freely expose himself to those people.

He climbed upstairs, passed by Buffy's room and stopped in his tracks. He cracked the door open and smiled when he saw the sleeping Cordelia. All he wanted to know was that she was okay. He closed the door and proceeded to the bathroom. He entered without knocking startling Dawn, who was busy putting on some make up and stealing some of Willow's perfume.

"Sorry," Connor apologized.

"It's okay. You have to..." Dawn pointed towards the toilet.

"Not really. I just..." he began and Dawn finished the phrase:

"Get away from the weirdness downstairs?" Connor nodded. "I know the feeling. But you get use to it. In time."

Dawn put on some of Willow's perfume. Connor pulled back.

"What is that?" he asked somewhat disgusted. It seemed to clog his senses, intoxicate him.

"Perfume."

"You smell better without it," Connor assured her.

"Not sure that's a compliment, but...thanks anyway," Dawn said thinking he was as strange as a person gets. "So are you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"Something has to be wrong?" he asked not understanding where she was going.

"If Angel's around something has to be wrong, trust me," Dawn assured him.

"Tell me, what exactly was my father doing in Sunnydale before he went to LA?" it suddenly dawned on him she was the best source of information he could have. She definitely wouldn't go running to his father asking him why he wanted to know so much.

"Looking after Buffy. He was like her shadow. Actually that was in LA. We used to live there until mom and dad got divorced," Dawn told him. "Then we came to Sunnydale. And he kinda met her and boy did they hit off."

"You mean they were..."

"Together," Dawn nodded. "Not really the healthiest relationship, but they were in love. Maybe a little too in love."

"What happened after that?" Connor found the idea of his father in love intriguing. Could a monster like him really love? And worse loved back?

"Angel lost his soul. You know, because of that whole crappy happiness clause in his curse. And Angelus...well, not a nice guy. He killed Giles' girlfriend and a whole bunch of people and liked to torture Buffy most of all."

"So your sister exiled him to Los Angeles?" he asked.

"No," Dawn thought it was weird he thought Angel didn't have a soul now. "Angelus, Spike and Drusilla were planning this big apocalypse thing and Buffy had to stop them."

"Spike and Droosilla?" Connor asked confused.

"Drusilla. They're vampires Angelus made. Okay, so everybody thought Spike was in a wheelchair, but he wasn't and he hated Angelus' guts so he cut a deal with Buffy. She brought down Angelus and let him and Dru go. So there it was. Showdown between Buffy and Angelus. She kinda manages to beat him, but he opens a hell dimension and the only way to close it is to kill him."

"So why isn't he dead?" Connor was disappointed.

"He kinda was. Willow got his soul back, but she had to kill him anyway. She kissed him, put a sword threw him and let him be swallowed by the portal."

"How come he's still alive?" he had to admit the slayer was a girl after his own heart. If she'd put an end to his father permanently, he'd worship her forever. After all she had come close once.

"Evil thingie brought him back from hell after a couple of months. He spent a 100 years in hell time. He was like an animal or something for a while. They tried to be just friends, but that wasn't about to work. They got back together. Eventually. Then they realized kissing wasn't gonna cut it for the rest of their lives. Her life, anyway. So he did the best thing he thought he could do. He left. That's how he got in LA."

"Hmmm..." Connor didn't say anything. Even if his father wasn't considered to be a monster now, he could turn back to one anytime, the idea intrigued him. He wondered if there was a chance he could bring that monster back. Then no one would blame him for killing him and after all, it was that monster who had caused all of Holtz' misery. As for the soul, if it was true he had one, it would be at rest and he'd only be doing it a favor.

"Just say fascinating and I'll call mini-Giles from now on," Dawn threatened him when she saw him deep in thought.

"Mini-Giles?" Connor asked puzzled. She talked strange, like Cordelia sometimes did.

"Giles is my sister's watcher. Or used to be. He's back in England these days," Dawn said as she took one last look of herself in the mirror. "Are you coming down or are you moping a little more in the bathroom?"
"I..." Connor started

"Staying?" he nodded. "Figures you're Angel's son," she rolled her eyes before exiting the bathroom and heading downstairs. "Is that pancakes I smell?" she asked delighted as she sat down at the kitchen table. She looked at all the goodies gathered on the table and then said: "Wait a minute....Pancakes, chocolate syrup, cookies... Is the world going to end?"

"Dawn!" Buffy gave her a crossed look. "I cook a good breakfast once you're thinking some impending doom is closing in?"

"Once," Dawn pointed out. "Kinda used to the doublemeat burgers by now."
"How can anyone get used to those things," Buffy made a grimace.

"I like that...thing on your face," Dawn told Joy. "Buffy won't let me get a tattoo."

"Actually it's not a tattoo," Joy told them.

"Paint?" Willow suggested.

"Nope. It's like a scar," Joy said.

"Doesn't look like one," Buffy looked at it closer.

"Not that kind of scar. It's the imprint of a spell," Joy explained. Willow stared at her for a long moment.

"Must've been some spell. I made and seen quite a few, but none of them left marks. Not like that anyway," the witch told her wondering what exactly had been so special about this girl that she had survived a spell of such proportions.

"You could say it was something cataclysmic," Joy said not bothering to reveal the truth. Her scar as well as her white hair were her inheritance from the battle of Sunnydale, when she had been only an unborn child in her mother's womb. Such powerful magic had been unleashed upon her mother that only with the might of all her slayer ancestors she was able to escape with her life and that of her child intact. If Joy only bared a symbol on her face as well as white hair from the shock, her mother had a part of her back covered in such symbols. The Willow she knew revealed them to be in some ancient language. It said 'In this flesh lays the spirit of the undefeated. Those who search to enslave it will find nothing more than death. That which must be free will remain so for eternity.' Joy's symbol only meant 'Spared'. Sometimes it frightened her, because a wizard had once told her that the word that had spared her life would be the same one who will end it. She didn't understand what he had meant by it and didn't want to either. She felt branded by that symbol. And he who had carved it upon her flesh would one day come to claim her. She smiled to herself. What if there was nothing left to claim?

"See, she doesn't have a tattoo. I bet your parents didn't let you, right? Or your brother?" Buffy wanted to get Dawn's mind off any tattoo. She had had one once and she hadn't liked it.

"My parents are dead, my brother's a ghola, but I do have a tattoo," she said smiling at Dawn.

"Do teenagers always have to stick together?" Buffy looked at Willow who was still contemplating Joy. There was something strange, yet familiar about her. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't speak it for some reason.

"We're adults now, we're the bad guys," Willow replied with a smile after a while.

"So where is it? Can I see it?" Dawn asked eagerly.

"It's on my shoulder blade," Joy told her. "I'll show it to you when you come back from school, okay?"

"Cool," Dawn smiled satisfied.

Meanwhile far away in Los Angeles, Wesley entered the Hyperion Hotel to find a very drunk Lorne singing show tunes on the couch. He wanted to inform Angel on some potential remedy he had found for Cordelia's amnesia. It was pointless to ask Lorne anything as he soon found out. The demon had consumed his hidden bottle of scotch and apparently a bottle of Martini all by himself. Wesley thought this was still the aftermath of the hole that was made in his skull.

"Where is everybody?" he asked for the tenth time.

"Ever notice how after half a bottle Martini starts to taste like couch syrup?" Lorne asked, then seemed to finally remember him asking that question at some point. "Fred and Gunn are out....uhm doing something. And Angel's... I know where he is," he told Wesley as he desperately tried to recall where the vampire was. "He's...he's in Sunny...hale, bale, hell?"

"Sunnydale?" Wesley asked not having the patience to listen on to his ramblings.

"Bingo! He and queen C are there and that good for nothing kid of his," Lorne laughed.

"They went there to try to restore Cordelia's memory?" it seemed like a good idea, he had to admit it.

"Yes....no," Lorne suddenly remembered the excruciating detail he was trying to forget. He started crying. Wesley was a little shocked. Something was wrong. And it wasn't the hole in Lorne's skull. "It's that girl's fault. She lied about something...some ghola thing. Said they should all go to Sunnydale," the demon sniffed. "Better there. They'd die here," he rambled on. "We're all going to die!" he sobbed and suddenly hugged Wesley, squashing him in his arms. "Wait a minute, you're not going to die!" the host pulled away from him and his now stained shirt. "You're grave wasn't there..."

"What are you talking about? What girl? And where did you see graves?" the ex-watcher asked confused. He was mumbling non-sense, but it had to have a root somewhere.

"She sang. She has a beautiful voice, but the visions...uh!!! Horror.... She said it's the future. She was... stopping it," Lorne told him. "And....and...Angel fits somewhere there. Don't know how, but...she had to take him away. She *had* to and I let her cause she had to..."

"Who is *she*?!" Wesley asked. There was something foul and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Joy," Lorne whispered. "Joycie, Joycie..."

"Joycie," Wesley repeated. That name! It had roots in Sunnydale... But surely it couldn't be the same Joyce. There was something very wrong. Like that mysterious portal that opened outside of LA the previous evening and to which none of his people seemed to find an answer to. He could feel something strange was in the air and promised himself he wouldn't rest until he'd find out what it was.
In Sunnydale, Joy stirred in her sit. Something was wrong. Something had set itself into motion, something that would jeopardize her mission. And even Jacques far away in future Los Angeles had felt it through the veils of time and through him the only column still standing between the world and its destruction, his mother, a great and powerful witch, Willow Rosenburg, had felt it too.

End Part 4