Title: Rest In Peace

Author: Calandra

Feedback: yes

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Only Morgan, Rain and the story belong to me, the rest belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy. Grr Arg.

Distribution: Sweet Delusions, anyone else ask first

Summary: Set about 21 years in the future. After getting a vision, Morgan Oswalt must help Doyle rest in peace.

Notes: I know that there isn't any C/D in this part but be patient, it's comming

REST IN PEACE

By Calandra

She didn't react when her bare feet touched the wet grass. Her pace didn't change at all. She raised her deep blue eyes towards the full moon. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as she was taken over by a sort of holy rapture. She looked as though she was trying to kiss the sky.

She paused for a moment, never taking her eyes from the full orb. The wind blew through her thick, dark hair, caressing her soft skin. She let herself spin with the air currents. Her feet beat to the tempo of an ageless song.

She let the energy flow through her, control her movements. Her dance accelerated and laughter escaped her lips.

She never slowed her wild dance or joyful laughter, even when she heard more footsteps joining her own. Pounding the soft earth beneath them rhythmically. Red hair flashed in front of her vision and a delicate hand took her own, raising it towards the sky in tribute to their Goddess. They started to spin, joining both their hands. They giggled loudly, heads thrown towards the sky, twirling ever faster.

She suddenly felt her strength leave her. Her legs collapsed beneath her, no longer able to support her weight.

"Morgan!" her companion cried out, trying to slow her descent but only succeeding in being pulled down as well.

Morgan sat down on the ground, trying to calm the pounding in her head. The exhilaration of her sabat came crashing to an end with the scalding migraine.

Images flashed through her mind. People that she didn't know reaching for her, pleading. Somehow, for an instant, these people looked familiar. A dark haired woman caught her eye and her lips formed an unmistakable "help us". As quickly as they came, they left again.

Only when she had completely overcome the dizziness did she feel the arm surrounding her shoulder. She turned towards her friend, meeting her green, sightless eyes.

"Thanks Rain."

"What was that sister?" The other young witch asked, squeezing her shoulders.

"I... I think it was a vision."

"Against your will? Morgan, maybe we should talk to mother about this." Her words were soft as usual but her movements made it clear that this was not a request.

Morgan winced at the thought. "Would you believe that I did it intentionally?"

Rain would hear none of it and led Morgan towards the house; the later was still too weak to resist. Her steps were halting and for the first time she noticed the cold that assaulted her through her thin white dress.

She shivered and pulled herself close to Rain though she didn't know if this was due to the cold or the memory of her vision.

Morgan allowed herself to breathe more calmly when the house closed around her. She made Rain pause for a moment so that she could bask in the energy that permeated Willow Wood. She patted one of the walls affectionately; the protection spells that their mother had woven into their home lent her a sense of security that she sorely needed.

Rain started to pull her along again but Morgan shook her head, stopping her with a touch.

The simple motion sent pain flashing through her mind. She closed her eyes and swallowed. "No, I'll go alone. Go check on father; Xander always falls asleep. You'd probably make a better look-out."

She said the last lightly, trying to make her sister smile. Rain was quiet and shy, her sister's teasing seemed to be the only thing that brought a smile to her lips. Her pale face remained impassive this time however.

Rain's blank eyes bore into her, questioning. She rose a hand and gently caressed Morgan's cheek. Then, silently, she took the younger woman's hand and pressed the triple moon tattoo, which she knew to be there without seeing it, to her lips. Morgan returned the gesture and moved silently away. Some things went beyond words.

She heard their father growl as Rain great him and 'uncle' Xander startled awake. Satisfied, she slowly made her way to her mother's inner chamber.

She stopped in front of the door. It was intricately carved with runes of all types, she stared at them, unable to bring herself to knock.

There was one word that would open the door without invitation, she knew. Her mother had taught it to her before reminding her that it was only for an emergency. The spells cast in that room were vitally important to the survival of Sunnydale.

She spoke the word.

She didn't know why she had done it, why it seemed essential but she didn't flinch when she found herself starring into her mother's eyes. She knew she had done what was right.

Tara, Amy and Michael glanced at her but didn't move. Only her mother stood. At 40, she was a beautiful woman; her form was lithe, her hair flaming red and her smile easy unlike her stoic husband and daughter. But then Willow Rosenberg had always been beautiful.

"What is it Morgan?" She asked softly, an athame cradled in her hands.

"I had a vision." She didn't remember a time in her life when she had been so to the point; Xander must have been a bad influence on her.

Her mother nodded as if she had been expecting this for a long time. She didn't seem at all concerned and started to sit again.

Something within Morgan protested this simple dismissal. It raged, causing the pain in her head to flare up again. She lowered her eyes to collect her thoughts but suddenly they were snapped up again.

"Who is Cordelia Chase?"

Her mother froze at the question and the three other witches shifted uncomfortably. Willow stood up and glanced at the others, seemingly overcome with panic.

*** Willow carefully wiped the young woman's forehead. She was sweating and groaning with effort. Her yells of agony drowned out even Rain's cries.

She was young, still recovering from her own pregnancy not even a year ago, she didn't know how to help her friend. She felt so helpless watching this beautiful face twisted by unspeakable pain. Rain's birth had been nothing like this.

She watched the mid-wife work for a moment. The woman smiled, trying to look confident and reassuring but Willow could tell the smile was forced. She was as worried as the young witch. She turned when she felt a hand closing tightly around her own. She found herself staring into two dark, desperate eyes.

"Please, take care of my baby." She gasped painfully.

"Hush, Cordy, you'll be fine." She smoothed the wet hair and closed her eyes. She didn't understand how motherhood had created such a tight bond between the two formal enemies.

But Cordelia didn't hear, the only sound was the newborn's cries. ***

She nearly knocked over the candle arrangement in her hurry to stand. She crossed the room and stood before her daughter, wringing her hands.

"Cordy... Cordelia was a... well, friend I guess. We haven't seen her in years... it isn't important." She smoothed the hair out of Morgan's face and smiled, a shadow of her usual bright smile. "Your gift will improve, don't worry... What did I do to deserve two such wonderful daughters?"

A few instants later, Morgan found herself staring at the door once more, not reassured in the least. Something about her mother's attitude was off. An unfamiliar voice nagged at the back of her mind that she should not give up so easily.

She shook her head and tried to forget.

"Morgan Oswalt, you're jealous of your sister's healing touch so you have to become a psychic buddy?" She chided herself with a bitter laugh.

(Part 2)
Morgan sat in the library, savouring the texture of an old tome. This room always had a soothing effect on her. Not today. The page in front of her blurred making it impossible to read, not that she had been reading much anyway. Her mind was far from the little room.

She sighed and put down the book. She gave up the pretence of reading, it served no purpose. She looked around her for something productive to do. Her eyes wandered aimlessly and stopped on an unimpressive red book. Without thinking, she pulled it out and opened it.

She found herself staring at the woman from her vision. There was something different about her though, she was smiling. She looked untroubled, happy whereas the woman in her vision looked as if she would never stop crying given the opportunity. A lot had happened between now and the time the yearbook picture had been taken.

She chuckled slightly at the inscription: "I aspire to help my fellow man. As long as he's not smelly or dirty or something gross."

An interesting woman, this Cordelia Chase but somehow she knew this quote could not define her. The woman in her vision wasn't devoid of compassion; there was someone for whom she would give her life. Someone.... she shook her head. She couldn't see who it was.

She paged through the book absentmindedly, reading comments by her parents, their friends and this Cordelia Chase. Most brought a smile to her lips but one, a poem, didn't. It was full of the same snobbery, self-importance but beneath all that there was something else.... pain, true human suffering.

Morgan found herself reading the poem over and over again. It wasn't that it was great literature but she felt for this woman who she had never met. She started to close the book, her thoughts on broken hearts and impalements but a picture caught her eye. It was Cordelia.... with Xander.

She nearly dropped the book in surprise. She did a double take. There was less grey in his hair, more muscle but it was Alexander Harris with his arms around a woman, Cordelia no less.

"I've gone to sleep and woken up in a bad mystery novel." Morgan muttered to no one in particular.

She put away the yearbook and glanced at her watch. Xander would be heading home about now. Not that she had any interest in this little melodrama... none at all.

With that in mind, she tiptoed out of the house and set after the family friend.

(Part 3)

Xander glanced over his shoulder for the thousandth time. Maybe living in Sunnydale all his life had made him paranoid but he could swear that he was being followed.

There was a rustling in the bushes and he spun on his foot, doing his best Buffy impersonation. The only thing he was likely to frighten was a stray cat. "Whoever's out there, I'm trained in many forms of combat so don't try anything or you'll regret it."

They tapped him on the shoulder. He let out a less-than-manly scream.

"Calm down Xander, it's just me."

"Morgan," he finally managed to gasp out when his heart rate slowed. "Don't do that! My heart is one of the few organs in my body that hasn't been tampered with; I'd like to keep it that way."

He leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath. He watched the young woman as he slowly recovered. She was grinning at him, still in the white dress that she had worn for her ritual. Her arms were crossed over her chest and one eyebrow was raised making her look like a slightly quizzical queen. He couldn't believe how much she looked like her mother.

He hadn't even realised that he had said the last aloud until she answered.

"No I don't. Rain looks like mother; I couldn't be anymore different." She paused a moment and met his eyes. He had never seen such perfect blue eyes on another person living and try as he might, he couldn't look away. "Who is Cordelia Chase?"

He started to fidget. He glanced at his watch a few times. "Would you look at the time. I better..." She was tapping her foot and staring at him impatiently. He sighed. "Come inside, I'll tell you what I know."

Xander's house was a mess. He had never been a tidy person and couldn't afford a house keeper. He tossed a few things of the kitchen chairs and settled down.

Morgan watched him for a moment. His head was resting on the table, hiding his face from the world. He looked as if all his years had finally caught up with him. He had had grey hair for as long as she could remember but this was the first time that he had ever looked.... old.

She reached out carefully, brushing her fingers against his arms. She was afraid that if she moved too quickly, she would break him. "Xander? Are you my father?"

If it was possible, he looked more startled than he had earlier. He knocked a few more things off the table in his struggle to get upright.

"I guess that's a no."

"I... we don't know who your father is, she never told us."

He sighed again and glanced to where an old dog was pensively chewing and equally old shoe. He never met her eyes.

"Me and Cordy used to date before... you know." It surprised her that he still couldn't talk about his change in lifestyle after all this time. She didn't interrupt however; she was afraid he'd stop if she did.

"It was never easy between us; we fought all the time. I'd like to believe that we actually had something, that it wasn't just hormones. But it doesn't really matter anymore. Anything we had, might had eventually attained....I ruined it. She caught your mother.... Willow and me together."

He paused for a moment, the memories seemed painful. She suddenly remembered the poem. "Is that when she got.... impaled?"

He nodded, slowly. "She was running away from us. I don't think she ever really got over it. When High School ended, she left for L.A. I have no idea what exactly happened to her there, all I know is that when she came back......

*********************

"Xander?"

Xander looked up from his newspaper at the sound of a voice. His job search was completely forgotten when he saw who was on the steps to his basement.

"Cordy, you look...." he glanced at her again as if not quite believing his eyes. "Have you gained weight?"

That was the wrong thing to say and he knew it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He ducked, seeing her throw her purse in his direction. It hit him in the back of the head.

"I'm pregnant you idiot!"

He just groaned. "What do you have in that thing, rocks?"

She didn't answer. Once he regained his bearings he noticed that she had collapsed on the steps and was weeping uncontrollably.

He carefully approached her. He had never been quite sure what to do with a crying woman. She took the decision out of his hands by throwing herself against his strong chest.

"I hate you," She sobbed into his shoulder. "Just so it's clear. I wouldn't have come.... but I have nowhere else to go. You're the only friends I have left."

*****************

"She stayed with us a month before...." He shook his head and this time she knew that he wouldn't continue. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to speak either.

She licked her parched lips. "She dies didn't she? Giving birth to.... me."

He didn't answer, he didn't have to. He stared into her eyes for a moment; he seemed filled with so much sorrow. Carefully, as if he was afraid his voice would break, he said one last thing. "I only know one person who might be able to tell you who your father is."

TO BE CONTINUED IN
PART FOUR