Part 10
Cold dead bodies and ash

Wesley went on, knowing Willow was still after him. He didn't care. If she wanted to witness it, fine, but if she got sucked in with him, it wasn't going to be his fault. Willow was half-frustrated, half-intrigued. Since when had Welsey become so stubborn? And even more, what had made him be this way? She was determined to find the answer to her questions, even if she had to tear a hole between two worlds, which technically she was close to doing. When he reached the intended spot, Willow caught up with him.

"So are you going to help me?" he asked and the witch smiled.

"I'm just here to watch, remember?"

"Fine," he rolled his eyes. Willow leaned on a wall, observing him. He pulled a book out of his bag, a candle and a red vile. He placed the candle on the ground, lit it, then opened the book. He started reading an incantation and while he did so, broke the vile above the candle. Before the liquid reached the flame, Willow knew it was blood. It lingered above the flame, not quite reaching it, floating above it in a crimson red circle. Wesley finished the incantation passing his hand through the flame. Nothing happened. He tried again. He couldn't understand what had gone wrong. He had followed the ritual to perfection! Maybe he had disregarded something. He looked in the book. There was nothing else. His thoughts were disturbed by laughter. Willow's laughter.

"It just needs a little more juice," she told him. Wesley remembered the spell had a precise amount of blood specified. And that vile had been it. He had gone through a lot of trouble for it, it wasn't your regular human blood. Sighing, he pulled a knife from his pocket, sliced his palm and let the blood trickle down over the flame. Again, nothing happened.

"Yours won't do," Willow said coming closer to him. She took his knife and cut her own hand. As soon as the first drop of blood reached the flame, a portal opened itself in front of them, sucking in everything in sight, including the two of them.

Back at the Summers house an angry Buffy was washing dishes while Dawn observed her quietly from the table.

"So are you gonna tell me what's wrong or am I suppose to sit here till morning pretending I have some sort of idea of what's bothering you?" Dawn asked, but the slayer didn't answer her. "Fine, I like it better when I'm quiet and all wise like anyway." She observed her sister and was upset she couldn't even make her smile. "Buffy!" looking at her, she realized that even though she was quiet on the outside, she was probably ranting on about something or rather someone on the inside and that's why she was deaf to her questions.

"Dawn! Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Buffy momentarily snapped out of her mental rant to notice.

"Yes, I should," Dawn nodded, giving her a strange look.

"Then go to bed. I don't want you sleeping in class. God knows, I did it enough for the both of us," she mumbled and Dawn smiled.

"Whatever you say," she went upstairs still wondering what exactly had bothered her so much.

Upstairs, Angel knocked on the door of Dawn's room, where Cordelia and Joy were supposed to be sleeping. Not getting an answer from within, he entered the room to find that Joy wasn't there, only Cordelia. He stepped inside for a moment, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He stroked Cordelia's face lovingly. She was so peaceful when she slept, so angelic. It hurt him to see her as troubled as she was when she was awake. It must be a terrible thing to not remember anything. He smirked to himself. How many times hadn't he wished for such a memory loss? But such things only happened to those who thought it to be a pain. Life was twisted that way, he supposed. Cordelia stirred under his touch and opened her eyes.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked sleepily.

"No," he shook his head. "Did you?"

"No," she let her hand slip over his.

"Sleep," he kissed her on the forehead.

"Stay with me," there was an odd vibe of fear in her voice, like the whole universe was unknown, hidden from her, and he was a single still point in that chaos. He was strong, he was real and fearless, while she was not.

"I can't," he said getting up. It suddenly felt like he was committing some great sin by being there, like he was betraying something. As he moved towards the door, before closing her eyes, Cordelia whispered:

"Good night, Angel."

On the corridor he bumped into Joy, coming from the bathroom.

"We need to talk," he told her and gestured towards Willow's room. He knew the wiccan wasn't inside. Joy was a little taken by surprise by this and a sudden fear overtook her.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked when they were safe inside the witch's room.

"What are you talking about?" she tried to act like she didn't know what it was all about.

"The demons. Those weren't gholas," Angel pointed out.

"Well, yeah. Didn't I say that? We couldn't track the others down," Joy thought he was talking about the demons they had fought that night.

"The demons you fought with Connor yesterday weren't gholas," he made himself clear. "I saw the bodies. Smelled the blood. Definitely not gholas."

"Really? They looked like they were, but I can't be sure, it was really dark," she tried to lie.

"Why don't I believe you?" he could smell her fear.

"I don't know," she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to take control of her own body.

"What are really after?" he asked stepping menacingly towards her.

"They're not really gholas," Joy said on a much more calmer tone. "They're Draeghai."

"You said gholas. Why would you say gholas?"

"I didn't think you'd come to Sunnydale for a Draeghai," she was running out of ideas. "There's a gateway. It only opens every 5 years here. My brother's been gone for 15 years. My father tried to bring him back 2 times and failed. He's dead now and it's up to me to bring my brother back. I promised it to a dying man," she could come up with good lies under pressure. She thought to herself it was partially true, she had made a promise to a dying man, her dying father, that she would do whatever it took to give her mother peace in this life.

"I don't buy it. You would've told us once we got here," Angel pointed out, not trusting her. "It's been two nights and you didn't say anything. You thought we'd get lucky and accidentally find your brother? Or you're supposed to find him on your own? Why did you need us then? Talk!" he grabbed her arm a little roughly

"It's not what you think... I don't want to hurt anybody. I just..." Joy suddenly jerked back, a little woozy.

"Joy-joy-joy..." a voice was echoing inside her head. "Joy-joy-joy-joy...."
"Get out, get out, get out!" she held her hurting head in her hands.

"Joy," Angel was beginning to see another answer. "Joy," she gently put his hand on her shoulder. "Is someone making you do all this?" but she couldn't hear his words, only distant mumbling sounds. Her sight was getting foggy. She stumbled over something but when she looked down all she could see was a rainbow of mixed up colors.

"Joy-joy-joy-joy" the voice kept calling, but she couldn't answer because she wasn't there or anywhere, she was nowhere.

"Joy?" Angel was worried but a part of him wondered if it wasn't just a trick to stall for time. She turned towards him, the color of her eyes suddenly unnamable, some kind of weird combination of all existing colors, glowing brightly in the dark room.

"Help me," she muttered before collapsing. Time is changing, she thought as she slipped into unconsciousness. She found herself drifting away in a whirlwind of memories. She saw herself passing through all her existence. Her first bike, her first moonlight picnic, her first kiss, her mother's smiles, her father's jokes, Willow's charm and Jacques' wittiness, the way Remy's magic lit up the gardens and the way the sun had first looked through her ruby glasses, their old house covered in green...And then her mind focused on one particular memory, on one particular person. Liam. Connor and Cordelia's surviving son. Liam...her mind drifted towards any memory containing him, any smile, any gesture, any word. She remembered how Liam had often spoken of his sister, Celeste and how beautiful and wise she had been, with her black hair and bright smile, only a head above him in height, but so much more... and how he wished she had been the one who had survived, because she had been special. She remembered how Liam had grown up over one summer when she had been gone with her parents to England to Giles' estate. She recalled how he had suddenly seemed tall and handsome, how his small smiles had meant more than a thousand laughs, how his eyes had lost themselves in the landscape sometimes and how helpless she had felt for not being able to guide them back. And how she had found herself thinking about him every spare minute she had... Her mother had told her once he reminded her a lot of Angel; he was just as melancholic, just as sweet. Thinking about it now, Joy thought she had been right.

Why had she fallen in love with Liam? She didn't know. Her father had laughed, saying it was the Summers women's attraction towards doomed relationships. It seemed like a cruel, but true joke now. How had it all started? It played like an old movie inside her mind. That night in the garden, that kiss, the stars, the crickets singing and that green raw light from her uncle Remy's house - his latest experiments no doubt - dancing to some unknown tune, maybe the beating of their hearts. And his smile. The smile...she felt her body shaking, not knowing it was only a sigh. She remembered the uncomfortable feeling her parents had had when they sometimes saw her coming out of Liam's room in the morning. She had laughed then, they should have been the last people complaining about strange sounds in the night. She had loved Liam, desperately, hungrily, passionately. She had loved him so much...and he, yes, he had loved her too, but it didn't stop him. All the love in the world couldn't have. She remembered that last night, that blissful night and the cold morning after. "I'll be back," he had whispered, but he was gone. Gone forever. And how much she had cried, how much she had grieved...Her mother had comforted her while her father whispered "like mother, like daughter." She let herself float on the current of her memories, thinking maybe somewhere, Liam was waiting for her, with his arms wide open. "Liam, are you there?" she whispered, her words barely forming on her lips. Angel looked at her confused, did she mean him?
"Joy, wake up," he tried to shake her out of her state.

"Rest, rest, let me rest..." she murmured in his arms.

"Joy-joy-joy," the voice called again, but Joy was gone, lost in the whirlwind of her own memories. "Joy-joy-joy..." but Joy was in Liam's arms and she did not want to return. She fell limp in Angel's arms. The vampire put her in the witch's bed. Her breathing was all right and her eyes had returned to normal. Angel thought she only needed rest for now but he would discuss the matter with Willow and Wesley, the experts in such things, when they would return. There was definitely a mystery behind this girl and he intended to find out what it was. He left the room. Now he needed to talk to the slayer and somehow he felt he'd rather be facing an army of demons than her. He found her in the kitchen washing dishes and he suspected she had been cleaning the same dishes for the last hour. He sat himself down at the table and waited for her to talk. She said nothing. It was worse than he thought.

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he started the conversation.

"Nothing's wrong," she said, but her tone was definitely saying otherwise.

"Buffy..." he said and it was all she needed to explode.

"How can you say it was nothing?! It wasn't nothing. Nothing between us is nothing, Angel! Or maybe it is for you and I didn't get it through my head yet, is that it?" she yelled turning towards him, her eyes burning a hole through him. Her eyes were always greener when she was angry, he remembered.

"That's crazy, you know how I feel about you," he tried to calm her down.

"Do I?" she suddenly smashed a plate at her feet.

"What'd you do that for?" he asked a little surprised.

"So I don't hit you again, cause quite frankly I'm not up for a fight right now, but gimme a couple of hours and I'll be back in shape."

"Just calm down, we don't need plates flying around. People are trying to sleep," he smiled as he stood up from the table and approached her. "Is this about the kiss? Weren't you the one who said we should forget it ever happened?"

"God, Angel, like you don't know me," Buffy was exasperated.

"Do I?" he asked with a smirk.

"You do," she looked him in the eye and Angel suddenly kissed her. But this wasn't the tender kiss from before, no, this was the hungry kiss, the desperate kiss, the goodbye kiss. The one she had given him a long time ago on the dance floor of the Bronze, on the docks of Sunnydale when he had almost left, the kiss she had given him before she had driven a sword through his chest, on her prom night, on the day she had forgotten, when her mother had died and every time they met in hopeless situations and felt that need to be in each other's arms, like nothing else mattered in the world, but them, it was always that kiss. They were suddenly interrupted by someone clearing her throat. It was Dawn.

"I didn't want to disturb you or anything. I just wanted, uhm,...a glass of milk," the teenager who had been eavesdropping on the whole conversation said. She had wondered why it had been suddenly quiet. Now she knew, she noted with a smile. Buffy blushed slightly, trying to pretend like nothing happened. Angel felt uncomfortable under the teen's curious gaze while the slayer gave her the milk.

"Thanks, you two get back to what you were doing," the teen gestured towards them, smiling. Busted, she thought to herself amused as she left the kitchen. Alone again, Buffy and Angel looked at each other embarrassed. Buffy returned to washing her two plates and Angel to watching her. There were a couple of moments of silence until Buffy burst into laughter, shortly followed by Angel.

Meanwhile Willow and Wesley found themselves crashing in another dimension. A barren place, a piece of land floating around in a chaos of glowing colors, that continually changed. They could hear whispers all around, like tiny vibrations sending shivers to their brains.

"Well that was fun," Willow said as she got up, dusting herself off from the crash.

"Looks like an extended aurora borealis," Wesley noted as he stood up.

"Yeah. Kinda scary looking if you ask me, then again I've seen worse," Willow sighed. "So wasn't this the portal with all the answers you've been looking for? Cause if it's suppose to be, looks like we landed a couple of dimensions in the wrong direction."

"I hope not," Wesley looked around. "I wasn't expecting anything precise so it might as well be it."

"Are you at least going to tell me what this sacred mission I'm getting myself killed for is? Considering we might never go back and everything," Willow tried to persuade him.

"Nope," Wesley smiled.

"I guess I'll be getting my own answers from this hellhole," she looked at the startling colors all around them. "So we're just suppose to wait?" she asked, but then a voice from the choir of whispers became louder.

"Joy-joy-joy...," the voice repeated. "Joy-joy-joy..."

"Do you hear that?" Wesley asked looking around trying to find the origin of the voice.
"Is that what it's all about? Joy?" she stared into the chaos and the voice echoed her question.

"Joy-joy-joy-joy?" and there was something oddly familiar about that voice. The colors turned to smoke, twisting insanely around that piece of arid land. Then from the smoke an unfocused figure appeared. "Joy-joy-joy-joy..." it said again.

"Who are you?" Wesley asked and the figure finally seemed to notice their presence.

"Who-who-who are you?" it repeated Wesley's words. It looked around itself and seemed confused of its whereabouts. "Where-where-where am I? When-when-when?" the voice could not shake off the echo.

"Where are you supposed to be?" Willow questioned.

"Joy-joy-joy-joy..." it retold its old tune.

"You're supposed to be with Joy? Are you her brother?" the witch asked and the figure, still disperse, looked strangely at her, like she had no idea what she was talking about.

"Are you Jacques?" Wesley asked, hoping that this way he'd preserve Joy's secret and Willow would think Jacques is her brother.

"Jacques-jacques-jacques..." the figure repeated. "No-no-no..."

"You're in another dimension, not in Sunnydale," Wesley explained, but suddenly wondered if he was doing the right thing by telling it. What if this was the evil Buffy Joy had told him about? What if he was guiding her to the present and by doing so bringing destruction to their world?
"Wrong-wrong-wrong?" the figure turned and twisted and Wesley realized, by the shape, that it was a woman. It made him feel even more unsure of what he was supposed to do.

"Willow, can you tell who it is?" he whispered to the witch while the figure still looked around itself.

"Huh?" she didn't know what he meant by it.

"Does it remind you of anyone you know?" he rephrased his question.

"Not really. I can't tell because of the smokiness, but you're right, it has something familiar," Willow looked at the figure again trying to find a real answer.

"Does it look like...uhm, Buffy, to you?" he tried to make the question sound casual.

"No, definitely not," she was certain. Wesley sighed relieved, putting all his trust in the witch's words.

"Wrong-wrong-wrong?" the figure looked back at them. Her shape seemed to want to focus for a brief moment, but after staring at Willow for a while, it turned back to mist. Her voice though was clearer, loosing its echo, but still somehow stronger than that of a human. "Where is Joy?"

"Sunnydale," Wesley said. "If you want, we can guide you there," the figure seemed to smile.

"No...all I needed to know is where I have to go," it looked somewhere in the chaotic fog. "Is-is she all right?"

"Yes, she is," Wesley answered, he didn't know what had happened in his absence . "What happened to Jacques?"

"Jacques's fine," it assured him.
"Who the hell's Jacques?" Willow was getting more and more confused.

"No one you know," Wes told her. "Are you the one she's been waiting for?"

"I suppose I am," the figure wasn't sure. A portal began opening behind Willow and Wesley.

"That's it? I made a trip to another dimension to talk to some bodiless thing that can barely tie two words together?" Willow was somewhat angry.

"The portal was set to reopen after a certain period of time," Wesley explained as he turned towards the portal. An exasperated Willow stepped in front of him. Wesley looked back one last time and the figure materialized itself for a brief moment and the ex-watcher was shocked to see an older Willow smiling back at him before loosing herself in the mist. The portal sucked him in and in the next moment, he and Willow found themselves on the streets of Sunnydale again.

Back in the Summers house Joy turned in her bed. Angel watched over her. She seemed asleep, but considering the way she had passed out, he doubted it was true. He wondered what she was dreaming about and what had done this to her. He leaned his hands on the bed and rested his head on them, looking at her face. She seemed somehow peaceful.

In her mind, Joy had found a special place, between all her memories, a green garden on the crossroad of her life, and Liam.

"God, I missed you," Joy told him and he smiled. That sweet, adorable smile. She kissed him. Kissed those lips she had missed so much.

"Me too. It's hard to be all alone sometimes," he caressed her hair.

"Tell me about it," she rested her head on his shoulder. "I wish I could be here forever."

"Who says you can't?" he kissed her on the forehead. "You can have anything you want here. Your old life. Our life. Why would you want to go back?"

"Good question," she closed her eyes and she was immediately struck by a flash of mixed-up colors.

"Joy-joy-joy" a voice rang in her mind. When she opened her eyes, she was still in Liam's arms.

"What do you see when you close your eyes?" she asked him.

"Nothing I'd want to see."

A buzzing sound seemed to echo in her ear and she tried to chase it away thinking it was an insect. But it wasn't a fly, it was the distant memory of Jacques's words "Don't lose you'self in the past, chere, cause if you do, you never gettin' out," but she ignored them, like she did everything outside of the perfect little world she had created for herself.

Then suddenly everything froze.

"Liam? Liam?" she looked up at him, but he seemed asleep.

"You can't bring him back," a familiar voice told her.

"Aunt Willow?" she looked around and found the witch standing on the edge of her garden.

"Hello, Joy," Willow stepped towards her, admiring the beauty of the garden. "It's pretty."

"It's my soul. Don't you think it should be?" she asked crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling cold.

"You can't stay here forever," she reminded her.

"Why not? Why can't I have forever? Is forever too much to ask for?" she was angry.
"Sometimes," Willow smiled. "You want to see how my soul looks?" she gestured with her hands towards half the garden and it began changing. A beautiful temple rose out of nowhere and Willow's features rejuvenated. And in front of that temple, gathering flowers, there was a young woman. She looked up at Willow and smiled. With just one look Joy knew who it was. It was Tara. "You see, we all have lost times we want back," she smiled tenderly at Tara. "It's over Joy. Come back home."

"She-she's dead?" her voice trembled.

"I did what I had to do," Willow closed her eyes for a moment. "She would've wanted it this way."

"Probably," her eyes filled with tears. She couldn't be gone, not her too.

"Come home," Willow asked of her, but Joy shook her head.

"I came here for a reason and I'm not leaving until I finish what I set out to do," she said determined.

"What you're doing is dangerous. You have no idea what can happen if you mess with time," Willow warned her. Joy smiled.

"But I do. You disappear...Poof, just like that."

"Joy, don't do this. It's not worth it. The world's right again. Nothing ended and there are a lot of beginnings out there just waiting for you."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Joy looked at her petrified garden. "You know what? I just realized something. My mother always stood strong against evil, she fought the fight every time it stood in her way, but she never had the courage to stand against her own destiny. I might be a coward, I might never be able to fight a life depending battle, but I'll never let the world beat me. I write my life and no one else will do it for me and if I have to cease to exist to win, I'll vanish willingly. She didn't fight her destiny, but she brought me in this world to fight it for her. You see? It's that simple."

"Your mother would've never wanted you to kill yourself for her," Willow told her.

"It's not her choice, now is it? And besides, she'll never know about it," she laughed. "And neither will you because I won't exist anymore. The only one who'll remember everything will be Jacques. Jacques and me."

"Joy..." Willow wanted to convince her to reconsider.

"No, you go back aunt Willow, you go back... And thank you," she said and Willow wanted to say something, but Joy didn't let her. This was her soul, her rules and the witch had said what she had come to say and now she had to leave. As she let her image slip away, the temple faded behind her and the girl with blond hair neared her and whispered "Come back to bed" and wrapped her arms around her. Willow closed her eyes and they were gone.

Joy was alone again in her garden and Liam opened his eyes, wondering what had happened.

"I have to go," she said.

"I figured," he stood up and took her in his arms. "Don't forget I'll always be waiting here for you. This is our place. Our forever."

"I could never forget you," she whispered as she hugged him tight. "Don't leave me," her pain suddenly hit her like a sharp arrow through her heart. "Not again."

"Joycie, I never went away. I was always here," he pulled away from her. Tears fell from her eyes. "You do what you have to do," he caressed her cheek and then slowly started fading away.

"Liam...Liam..." she cried and ran towards him, but her hands passed through him. "Liam..." she wanted one last kiss. One last smile. "Liam!" she woke up sobbing and with her tear filled eyes she saw Liam holding her. "Oh, Liam..." and she kissed him. But it wasn't Liam. It was Angel. He pulled away surprised, but still held her in his arms.

"Shh, it's all right," he whispered.

"I'm-I'm sorry...I...thought that..." she tried to speak.

"It's okay," he rocked her in his arms.

"Mom, mom..." she gave in to all her pain. As she wept, she did not see the frail image of Jacques looking down at her with compassion.

"Oh, chere..." he let out, but he could do nothing but watch.

End Part 10