Disclaimer: I don't own Grace Polk. I don't own Joan of Arcadia. I don't own Lorne. I don't own Angel. I have no money. Don't sue me.

Summary: AtS and JoA Crossover. Joan and Grace are in L.A. (does it really matter why/how they got there?), and God sends Joan to Caritas to have her aura read. She drags Grace along with her. Essentially: Grace+Caritas+Lorne=Do I even have to tell you?

A/N: Okay...so I'm lying in bed at night writing a fic about Grace from JoA in my head (does that make sense?) and--I do. Sooo...I have this idea of sorts...I'm just gonna write a little ficlet, but who is going to be the guy to annoy Grace? Who would really annoy her? LORNE! I jump up and scream his name. Fortunately, no one was home to be freaked out by my elation (of sorts). I don’t know how this turned out. I just started watching re-runs and new episodes of both shows, so I don’t know the characters too well.

Grace Polk, giving Angel a good run for his money in the 'brooding department', sat at a table by herself at Caritas, which was just another weird L.A. club to her. Everyone was wearing weird costumes, or so she supposed...she heard people from L.A. were freaks, but, honestly...

She looked about her surroundings in search of Joan. Why the hell would Joan drag her here? Oh, yeah...Joan was insane.

Grace groaned as she spotted her friend--on stage. She decided to ignore her. I mean, who wants to see friends humiliate themselves? And Joan was very good at humiliating herself. It seemed to be one of the things the girl did best.

"Hey, sweet cheeks. Ya know it takes more muscles to frown than to smile," Lorne, grinning from ear-to-ear, took a seat next to Grace.

"I'm exercising," she responded, looking to see Joan marring one of her favorite White Stripes songs.

"Why so glum, sugar plumb?"

She looked him (okay...more like 'glared' him) up and down and then proceeded to summarily ignore him. Grace turned her attention back to the stage. Yeah...Joan took the cake for acts of embarrassment.

Noticing Lorne was still sitting next to her, Grace had no choice but to speak up, "Did you want something. Generally, when someone ignores you they want to be left alone."

"Geez..." Lorne sighed under his breath, but he was determined to get this girl to sing. He loved reading the auras of moody people, "She your friend?"

"Sure."

"Interesting aura she's got there."

Grace groaned, "See...you're only supporting the stereotype that people from L.A. are weird...and creepy...and pretty much not anywhere near the rest of the world’s standards for normal. And don’t ask me what those are. I don’t have the time."

"How about you go up there and sing a little tune for me? Your friend there’s not much of an act to follow. I’m sure—“

Grace cut him off, “I don’t sing.”

“Awe, sure you do. Everyone sings. From what I understand, you’re not from around here so who do you have to stop you?”

“I have my dignity, man.”

“Dignity, schmignity! Like you said, this is L.A. Give it a whirl!” Lorne laid a list of songs in front of her, and walked towards Joan who had just finished her song.

"Stupid, green freak," Grace muttered incoherent rants under her breath as she took a look over the list Lorne had given her.

Meanwhile, Lorne confronted Joan about her aura.

“So, what do ya think?” Joan asked him, excitedly. Finally, God had given her a task that benefited her—and she got to go to Los Angeles.

“Well…nothing you don’t already know. This Iris character—don’t worry about her. Just give ‘A’ time,” she cringed at the repulsive nickname, “…things will happen the way they’re supposed to. The more you try to fight reality, the longer you prolong the inevitable.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, and whoa! Lorne or God?”

“Well, I go by both, but…hey, any chance you could get your little friend over there onstage?” Lorne turned his direction towards Grace.

“Wait, you were talking to Grace?”

“Yeah…moody little thing, isn’t she?”

“Actually, she prefers ‘morose’,” Joan clarified.

“Well?”

“No…never…not in a million years…Grace doesn’t sing—Grace is not a social person—Grace—“

“Grace will be singing a song for her green companion over here,” Grace interrupted Joan and patted Lorne on the back.

Lorne raised his eyebrows at a frightened looking Joan, “Right this way,” he led Grace towards the stage.

Standing on stage, microphone in hand, Grace belted out:

It's not that easy bein' green; Having to spend each day the color of the leaves. When I think it could be nicer being red, or yellow or gold- or something much more colorful like that.

“Yeah…couldn’t you tell from talking to her that this was coming?” Joan asked Lorne who simply rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“She’s not the first.”

It's not easy bein' green. It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things. And people tend to pass you over 'cause you're not standing out like flashy sparkles in the water- or stars in the sky.

But green's the color of spring. And green can be cool and friendly-like. And green can be big like an ocean, or important like a mountain, or tall like a tree.

When green is all there is to be It could make you wonder why, but why wonder why? Wonder, I am green and it'll do fine, it's beautiful! And I think it's what I want to be

The first thing out of Lorne’s mouth was: “Wow, you guys really don’t like her, do you?”

“No, we don’t,” Joan answered quickly.

“If I could, I would r—“

“I know what you’d do, but violence doesn’t solve anything, Gracie, you know that.”

“Yeah…well…she really gets on my nerves. And don’t call me ‘Gracie’.”

“Joan, could you let us speak in private for a moment?”

“Oh, yeah, sure Lorne. I’ll be right over here,” the girl awkwardly walked to nowhere in particular.

“I’ll get to the point and offer you my best advice: just go with the flow. Let the inevitable happen. The whole Iris situation will work out. As for you-know-who and the other you-know-who,” Lorne was referring to Glynis and Luke, “They’ll work themselves out too, darlin’, don’t you worry. Just let the chips fall where they may.”

“Sure…okay…whatever you say,” Grace said, her ‘what the hell is going on’ face more pronounced than ever, as she made her way over to Joan.

“Promise me you’ll never take me to another karaoke club where people dress up as monsters and the club owner claims to be a psychic?” Grace practically, but not actually, begged Joan.

“I can’t make any promises,” Joan turned from Demon!God and made her way out of Caritas, Grace in tow.

THE END.