Rewrite: Some People Need Saving, 1/? (Buffy/Angel, AU)
Some People Need Saving, Part One
Please see Prologue here for additional information and disclaimer.
This Part Rated R
Summary: AU; Buffy and Angel are teens and from the opposite sides of the tracks with very different circumstances that come to light over a school project.
The small room was dark - always dark - the blinds of the filthy windows closed tightly, barely letting slim chances of the beginning daylight slip through where the plastic was bent or broken. Sparse furniture decorated the threadbare carpeted floor, stains highlighting where larger pieces had once sat. Now, it was just empty.
Buffy Summers walked into the living room quietly, her shoes tapping softly as she took in her mother passed out on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whisky resting on the ground, tipped on its side next to where she laid on the dirty beige couch. The rise and fall of her chest was the only sign the woman was alive; otherwise her face was ashen, her cheeks sunken in and the hollows of her eyes deathly. Buffy stared at her for a split moment, her face impassive, before moving towards the front door, dodging the coffee table that had been pushed against the wall.
A groan came from the hinges as Buffy opened it and she paused, her heart suddenly fluttering to life as she turned around quickly, gripping the door, the sudden pumping of her blood rushing through her ears in a white noise. She waited but was greeted with nothing but silence. The bed sheets rustling echoed from the gray darkness of the hallway leading to the bedroom at the opposite end of the house.
Nothing followed.
Her father continued to sleep.
Snatching her discarded backpack from where she’d dropped it the night before, she quickly closed the door gently and skipped tensely down the porch stairs, not bothering to lock it. She didn’t even know where her key was anymore.
Buffy walked swiftly down the driveway, crossing the street without looking for cars. The moment she was out of sight of the small house, she’d be more at ease; she’d worry about the outside world dangers once she was away from inside ones.
Crossing the yard of a corner home, she glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see her father rushing out of the house, chasing her. A chill ran down her back in feared anticipation but the yard remained blissfully empty. She hadn’t felt the need to run like this in a long time but the night before hadn’t exactly been sunshine and roses. Buffy absently rubbed her left wrist as she lost sight of the house.
Pulling up her sagging jeans, she took a deep breath.
Another day escaped. One more morning averted.
The sun beat down on her head, warming her underneath the heavy black sweatshirt as she walked briskly to school - Sunnydale High. It was rejuvenating, as it was every morning; passing through the stormy fog of her home life into the brighter parts of her reality.
Blinking rapidly against the bright rays, it reminded Buffy of the fading bruise still visible in the hollow of her left eye from a fight a few weeks ago. She couldn’t remember what it was about or who it was with but the sting of hot anger coursing through her was still very fresh. She remembered her eyes blurred; her arm pulled back for the final punch…
It hadn’t taken Snyder more than one minute to appear and break up the fight. He had called her house, had discussed suspending her for a few days - with far too much pleasure, she remembered, having been sitting in his office while he talked on the phone - but her father had talked him down, saying he would take care of it. He had said that Buffy would be punished accordingly.
When she came home that night that is exactly what he had done, with the leather of his stocky belt and the hard steel of his working boots. The bruise hidden against her ribs was still very much evident, an ugly array of colors that hurt to even look at. One wrong move adjusting her backpack put more strain on her side than it would have with a normal bruise and running into anything too roughly was completely out of the question. The good news was that she could say it was finally healing. It didn’t feel broken and it didn’t hurt to breathe nearly as much as it had when she’d acquired it.
Thinking outside the pain wasn’t such a challenge anymore either way. Her wounds always took longer to heal than they probably should but it was worth it not showing that part of her life to the cleansing daylight.
Buffy stared at the cracked sidewalk, holding the straps of her bag. She kicked a lone piece of rubble away, her mind slowly turning over. She was hungry. She had skipped the fast food dinner from last night because she had quipped the wrong thing with her father and she never allowed herself enough time in the morning to eat any breakfast, not that he kept much food in the house. He hadn’t for years, the money usually gone long before a shopping trip is ever planned. Any food that found its way in was usually gone within the day.
Fucker, Buffy thought bitterly, biting her lip. Her memories always brought back the sickly acidic feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could still remember clearly, even six years later, how her entire life had been turned upside down, almost in the space of a day. From happy to miserable with the snap of her father’s fingers… something to do with the stock market, her father investing in something or other, trusting the wrong people; playing dirty... Cheating was more like it. She didn’t know the details and she didn’t want to. It was a few months after the initial financial slap that she and her mother found out about the secretary he had been having an affair with after he attempted to fly to some hole in South America and his card had been rejected followed shortly by the rejection of his whore.
That proved to be the final straw for Hank Summers. That was the first time he got drunk around his family.
It felt like things went quickly downhill after that. What were surely a few hours in Buffy’s mind were actually a few years. Looking back on it, she felt like she had been in a daze the entire time. It wasn’t long before they lost their house. Lost their furniture and clothes in an effort to sale what they could to save what they had, but it turned out over and over to not be enough.
After the house was taken by the bank, Hank moved the family to Sunnydale where her mother had a job offer at the local gallery, a small town where the good side of town and the bad side of town were barely a mile from each other; “a one Starbucks town,” according to her friend Xander when she first arrived, not that she had such luxury.
They quickly settled in, managing to rent a small house in one of the smaller subdivisions. It wasn’t the prettiest of houses, hardly able to compare to their L.A. home; but they couldn’t afford anything to be proud of. Unfortunately this included her father’s frequent trips to the bar as Hank proceeded to spend his days at the closest one to their new home, getting shit-faced while his wife took up working at the gallery, becoming their only source of income.
This wasn’t a huge problem because Joyce Summers threw herself into her work. She genuinely liked art and knew what she was doing. She had loved her new job.
Of course good things never actually last.
As the years passed, Hank held and dropped multiple jobs, mostly manual labor that he refused to continue going to. Sometimes; a majority of the time it was because he couldn’t go more than one day without having alcohol flowing through his system. He hid it well for the first month but by the three-month mark it was too obvious to ignore. Any money he managed to make was fueled back into some bar or liquor store.
What used to be silly jokes and fun quickly turned into sessions of anger when he had liquor in his system. Despite the misery of their existence, his drinking was an escape until reality seeped in too deep and instead of being able to run away, he fell farther into its darkness.
The first time he hit her mother it was over Joyce buying Buffy a dress for the ninth grade homecoming dance. She kept saying she wanted to get something “normal” for her daughter and her reward had been her father reaching out over the dinner table and slapping his wife.
It certainly hadn’t been anything fancy; it was a find in a thrift store. Buffy could hardly remember the last time she had had clothes bought for her. The clothes she outgrew were sold and most of everything she owned was either from her mother’s old stash that Joyce kept during their numerous sales while they were still in Los Angeles; “gotta lose money to make money,” he father repeated over and over. When Joyce managed to save a little money on the side, she encouraged Buffy to go out and get herself some clothes that fit better.
Buffy remembered vividly that night he first hit Joyce. She had fallen out of her chair and when Buffy had started crying, he had thrown a plate full of food against the wall; his fist had met with the table and a glass of milk had fallen over... A week later when Buffy came home with tear in the knee of her jeans from her gym class - she didn’t have gym clothes that day and was playing in her day clothes - and she had been introduced with the power of his fist. From that point on, Buffy walked on eggshells. She began to realize that the Hank Summers that she had known as her father was gone. In his place was a monster playing the part of the man who had quickly transformed into her worst nightmare.
It didn’t take long for Joyce to jump on the alcohol swigging wagon. It began in the middle of the night followed by sips after dinner when Hank would disappear. It got worse after her first black eye. Soon she was drinking with full vigor. When Buffy had innocently asked her why she was drinking so much and why it made her cry after a while, Joyce said it helped numb her. Made the pain easier, made living with her husband easier and made realizing that everything that had been good in her life had been ripped away. She effectively told Buffy that their lives had turned to shit and drinking was the only way for both her and Hank to handle anything anymore.
Her mother became a shell of the beautiful woman she had been in Los Angeles.
And then she stopped showing up for work. If it wasn’t the bruise on the side of her head, it was the hand print on her arm. Then it became sleeping in, coming in late and then she stopped showing up altogether.
Buffy hated her for it. Hated how weak she had become and hated her father even more because he did it to her. To his own family; he had turned them to shit. She felt her insides stiffening at the thought of her mother lying on the couch at home, dead to the world. Her father blacked out on the bed. How long before he drank himself to death and she and her mother were rid of him? Even if she was returned to barely a ghost of herself, Buffy would be happy. She’d be Joyce again, if just a little.
She should feel shame in wishing that she hoped he would die every single day for being the worst man she’s ever know... but she didn’t. Her eyes were dry but she was crying, always weeping on the inside, not for the man who claimed to be her father but at the shit hole that passed for her life.
Money became very scarce after that and she always found herself wondering how any food landed on the table at all.
Looking up as a red car flew past her, Buffy saw the school in the far distance, people already milling around the grass and sidewalks near the front entrance. She didn’t see the trademark flash of red hair and she slowed her pace. Buffy didn’t like having to stand around out front or having to sit at a table by herself, staring at the wood while she waited for her friends.
Almost against her will she found herself pausing when she found Liam Angelus where he leaned against the trunk of a tree. She couldn’t tell what he was doing as far as she was but she shook her head, her brow furrowing. Why should she care what he was up to? He didn’t give her the time of day and she shouldn’t even be staring at him... as she was in that very moment. She couldn’t take her damn eyes off of him and everything in her willed him to turn his head her way, smile at her, wave at her.
It wasn’t too long ago that she thought there might be some interest coming from him, when she first moved to Sunnydale. It had been a little tickle in the bottom of her stomach, before he ever got with Cordelia... Sitting next to him in class, talking every once in a great while. He had even smiled at her once.
But then it had disappeared - a figment of her hopeful imagination - while her feelings for him seemed to stick around with a newfound resilience.
He was wearing his customary jeans and fitting t-shirt. He was so defined and bulky for his age and where most boys were scrawny and awkward, Liam walked with confidence and authority. He demanded respect from people - really just another reason to think of him as the ultimate jerk - but... with his strong jaw and dark features, healthy head of hair and large, beautiful hands... Buffy felt herself blush and look away, annoyed and ashamed. What could she possibly see in him? What could she possible offer a boy like him, what did she have to give, especially when he already had something the entire male population of the school envied.
Cordelia Chase sauntered up to him and Buffy could see him smile from where she was as he pushed off the tree to meet her. She kissed him quickly on the lips and he wrapped his arm around her waist. They were the quintessential teenage couple of Sunnydale High School. Popular, gorgeous beyond belief and utterly adorable together, she thought sarcastically. Buffy felt her stomach twist; she couldn’t tear her eyes away as Cordelia leaned in and whispered in his ear, handing him her books as she turned to approach her other half.
Harmony Kendall and Cordelia Chase made a cutesy show of doing the French air kisses on their cheeks and appraising each other’s clothes. It was people like these that made Buffy hate herself even more. They had everything: the clothes, the cars, the houses, the parents who didn’t hate each other and abuse themselves and everything around them. And because they had all of this they felt it gave them the right to look down on people like her. It would be a very cold day in hell when Cordelia didn’t quip about Buffy’s clothes or her hair and Harmony didn’t remark on her lack of makeup which “makes her look like a sallow cow. Not that makeup would help.” Cackle cackle. A little gaggle of girls followed both of them as Cordelia turned and grabbed Liam’s hand, pulling him into the fray.
Yeah, Buffy, you’ve got a great chance with him, the King of Ignoring Everything But Precious Cordelia. Buffy remembered a time when it hadn’t always been like that. When he hadn’t always been like that but that was a long, long time ago when she first came to town. Before, well, everything.
Slowly the crowd around them grew as Liam moved to his best friend who was attempting to make a snack of Harmony’s neck. While Cordelia and Liam were The Couple, Harmony and William “Spike” Rosen - nicknamed for his penchant for railroad spikes and mostly because he insisted on it in middle school - were The Dysfunctional Couple. It worked in such a disgusting way and it only made the knife in Buffy’s gut twist a little more because she knew she had more than a crush on the tall boy. The boy who couldn’t deem himself low enough to even look twice at her anymore, if he even looked the first time. Buffy felt her eyes swelling slightly and she bit her tongue. Of all the shit in her life worth crying over, she chose Liam Angelus. Very nice, Buffy, such a class act.
This was one of the countless moments in her life where having an on/off switch for her feelings would be great. Off. Done.
“Buffy!”
The sound of her name rolling brightly off the tongue of her best friend caught her attention and Buffy turned to see Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris reaching the school grounds as she was. Buffy grinned.
“Hey Will,” she said, raising her hand to meet Willow’s excited wave, making Buffy’s attempt look like a wet sad noodle in comparison. She had to be the luckiest person in the world for this very reason: she had two of the best friends she could ever hope for. They didn’t judge her or make fun of her or say anything about her home life. They accepted her and she loved them for it. This was always the bright spot in her day, knowing she had someone worthy in her life that made her feel less like the oil stain on people’s driveways: unwanted and ugly.
“It’s the Buffster!” Xander said with a goofy grin on his face, mock punching her shoulder. “Looking supah fine.”
“And it’s Xander... with his... what are you wearing?” she asked, her smile growing as she took in the monkey dancing on his t-shirt. “Better question: what is it throwing?”
Xander looked giddy as he pulled the t-shit out for better viewing. “Only a... brown banana.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Buffy laughed as Willow stared at his shirt. “That’s not bananas.”
“It is while I am at school, my sweet Willow friend,” Xander replied, putting his arm around her shoulder. “It is while I am within the walls of this place of evil.”
“School’s not evil!” Willow protested, her hands clasped in front of her. “If you would turn in the homework I help you with every night, it wouldn’t be evil.”
“Homework schmomework.” Willow rolled her eyes, not able to keep the smile from her face. It was moment’s like this that Buffy marveled at the patience that was Willow’s.
“What’s up, Buffy?” Willow asked with glee practically flowing from her pores. Buffy wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Xander’s arm was still wrapped around her shoulders or if she was just in a really fantastic mood.
“Not much.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets, gripping the inner pockets as she felt the jeans slip a little down her hips. “Forgot a belt. Having some slight pants issues.”
“Is that a fact?” Xander asked, his eyebrows shooting up as Willow smacked his shoulder. Buffy chuckled.
“Would never happen, Xander... never,” she countered playfully. Xander smiled innocently as the school bell rang in the background. A collective groan echoed through the student body. “There’s our cue.”
“Why bells?” Xander asked as they walked towards the front. “Isn’t it bad enough having to hear Snyder’s voice every day?”
Buffy and Willow giggled, the blonde shaking her head and opening her mouth to respond, blissfully distracted from the large group following them inside.
***
“I swear this school lets anyone in. There should be a dress code or something. I mean, would you look at her.”
Cordelia Chase pointed her finger at Buffy Summers, her eyes scathing as they followed the girl, walking a short distance in front of her. She wrinkled her nose at the low-end jeans that were practically falling down her hips - hello, this only served to fuel the fire about her sleeping around with one of the teachers - and the shapeless black thing that she called a sweatshirt.
“I feel like my eyes are bleeding,” she said with a dramatic pitch as she turned to her best friend. Harmony Kendall nodded, one of her eyebrows piqued as she stared.
“She can’t even wash her hair,” Harmony said with a sneer, flipping her own long dewy locks over her shoulder. “Personal hygiene, has she ever heard of it?”
“A guy’s opinion, please... Liam, would you ever date that?”
Liam Angelus looked up when Cordelia touched his arm and followed her long, red nail as she pointed at the small group coming to a stop by some lockers. She could only be talking about Buffy Summers. His eyes narrowed as he took her in.
Everyone knew about her. They knew where she lived, that her father was a raging alcoholic with a raging fist when somebody displeased him; it wasn’t news anymore when he would turn up outside the seediest bar downtown having been thrown out - again - because he got into another fight. Her mother wasn’t any different. Liam couldn’t honestly remember the last time he saw her mother sober, if he saw her at all. He would feel bad for Buffy if she wasn’t such a damn bitch herself. He used to feel bad but as the years went on it died as she herself got worse.
She was just like any other student when she came from Los Angeles a couple of years ago and Liam had even entertained the idea of asking her out. Sure it was obvious that her home life wasn’t the most ideal. She didn’t seem to change clothes a lot and she was more withdrawn than a girl who looked like her should be but she was alright. They even talked a little here and there and he once got a genuine - gorgeous - smile from her. She used to be normal but it didn’t last very long. Liam remembered the year she changed, after a summer away from school. She came back different, full of more anger and rage than she ever had before and she took all of it out on anyone who came near her. The only people she seemed to relax around were her less-than-fantastic friends. They formed a triangle of losers and misfits. A wonderful high school cliche; both Buffy and her little clique.
Gone was the interesting creature who had moved from L.A. and in her place was a broken form who toted a rather large chip on her shoulder.
“Not if you paid me in gold coins covered in naked women,” he said, turning to throw a half-smile at his girlfriend, her eyes glazing into a glare at his words. He did so love getting under her skin, it was too easy.
“That’s not funny, Liam. Seriously, she’s a disease and somebody should look into getting it removed.”
Liam was still staring at Buffy’s back, staring at her thin body with slight revulsion - stick-thin was not what he would call exciting in the backseat of his car, especially when he had a Cordelia Chase running around with him; the blonde used to fit into that category, key words being ‘used to’ - when Buffy turned and caught his eye. Her cheeks immediately blotched red and her eyes widened. He stared at her blankly before turning away. The logical part of him knew that she was just lashing out because of the way of her life had turned, that she didn’t ask for it. But it didn’t help anything being a bitch to everyone and everything.
It didn’t escape his attention that she looked more sickly than normal nor that she seriously needed someone to mend the deep crack hiding in her eyes but... It wasn’t his concern. Waxing poetry over the crazy girl... nice.
“Why waste your time on her, Cordy, she’s not worth it.”
“You’re right,” Cordelia said with an air of finality. She turned to look down her nose as they passed them, her voice becoming theatrical. “She’s like a bad dog or something. She just needs to be put to sleep.”
Liam snickered as he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her further down the hall towards his locker. Harmony and the rest of the Cordettes - as they had taken to being called in their sophomore year - continued to follow them, hanging on the brunette’s every word. He briefly wondered where Spike had gotten off to.
“Remember that fight she got into a few days ago with that skanky Jennifer?” Liam nodded, remembering the wild look in Buffy’s eyes as she had thrown her arm back and slammed her fist straight into Jennifer Mara’s nose. She retaliated by elbowing Buffy in the eye but Buffy had gotten the last laugh when she yanked on Jennifer’s hair and slammed the palm of her hand against Jennifer’s chin. It all happened in a split second, the large crowd of students surrounding the two of them, before Snyder interrupted.
“Yeah, that was some good girl-on-girl action,” he quipped, turning the dial on his locker and yanking it open. All this Buffy was talk was beginning to make him uneasy. Thinking too much about her made him uneasy. It was easier to keep her in the bitch category inside his head when he didn’t remember how sweet she used to be, how much he really did used to like her and the first time she came to school with a nasty bruise... It wasn’t worth remembering things like that. It was easier to keep her segregated into categories.
“She probably learned how to fight from her dad wailing on her at home,” Cordelia said with derision in her tone. Liam glanced at her out the corner of his eye but didn’t say anything as he pulled out one of his textbooks. Along with everyone knowing about the shit her parents had become, it wasn’t uncommon knowledge that Buffy also received a roundly beating every once in a while. Liam swallowed uncomfortably at the thought of someone like her father punching Buffy the way she had punched Jennifer.
Talk about uneasiness.
It was one thing to have alcoholic parents who didn’t take care of their own shit - including their own daughter - but it was another thing entirely when said parents took out their frustration on their child.
Hence the categories. It wasn’t his life. It wasn’t his business.
“She probably deserves it,” Cordelia went on, leaning back against the lockers. Her eyes didn’t leave the small group, completely ignorant of Liam’s discomfort at her callous words. “Someone would the way she dresses.”
***
Buffy looked up as she and Willow passed Liam rummaging around in his locker. Cordelia glanced at her before turning around, dismissing her. Buffy noticed her hand snake around Liam’s upper arm as he filled his backpack, not noticing her grasp in the least. Her heart sunk a little deeper into her chest. The look he had given her earlier when they were passing Xander’s locker... She could only imagine what she had looked like: her face had warmed in an instant and her eyes had turned into saucers when she noticed him looking directly at her. Their eyes had met and she felt her stomach becoming intimate with the floor before he had turned away.
Where the hell was Snyder when you needed him to break up some serious “no-touching” happening in the hallway? The one time she wanted the Rat Man to magically appear out of nowhere...
Breaking through the fog in her mind, she heard Willow’s perky voice, talking about homework or a fuzzy purple rabbit or... a computer or something as they stopped at Willow’s locker, having left Xander back at his.
“I’m sorry, what Will?”
Willow stopped in mid-sentence, frowning at her friend. “Are you okay, Buffy? Did something... happen this morning?”
Buffy rolled her eyes, unwilling to give the satisfaction of showing how much that simple sentence grated on her feelings. I shouldn’t have to answer shit like that, she thought bitterly, feeling an aggressive tug on her heart. Even from her best friend.
“Nothing more than the usual,” she replied breezily. She waved her hand. “You know, mom passed out on the couch. Dad dead to the world in the bedroom. At least we can all hope.” She smiled stiffly.
Willow frowned, pursing her lips. Buffy glared at her. “Seriously, nothing happened.” Buffy wanted to feel bad about snapping at her but... these questions were bullshit. Well, more the unconscious pity seeping from her friend’s eyes was the bullshit. “I was just distracted by someone. That’s all.”
“He’s a jerk, Buffy,” Willow said instantly, pulling out a folder. Buffy frowned in consternation that she knew immediately who she was talking about. She feigned annoyance that she was obviously so transparent but she felt a secret giddiness to clear the conversation from her parents to Liam Angelus. And he was a jerk; and it made her more of a jerk because she liked him... he was dating Cordelia Chase for god’s sake, that spoke volumes right there.
“I know,” Buffy mumbled.
“He’s not worth it. He’s a big ol’ jerk face who dates... stupid people.”
“I get it, Will.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “He’s a jerk; I’m an idiot for liking the jerk. Not uncommon knowledge around here.”
“I didn’t say that, Buffy...”
“No, I know. It’s just...” She took a deep breath. She felt the sudden urge to turn to her friend and tell her everything and anything Liam-related but she pushed it away. He wasn’t the person for her to like and she didn’t want to encourage Willow knowing more about an additional failure on her part in life. She didn’t have enough crap at home, she puts herself through more misery by liking someone she can never - not in a million years - have.
“It’s just that I’m done with Downerville in Buffydom.” She flashed Willow a wide grin. “Really.”
“I’m here if you want to talk, Buffy,” Willow said, closing her locker. She smiled. “Even if he’s a jerkface.”
Buffy laughed. “I know.” She shrugged. “But there’s nothing to talk about.”
Her friend’s eyebrow went up as she studied Buffy doubtfully.
“Well okay,” Willow said. “How’s your eye doing?”
Welcome back to Downerville in Buffydom, Buffy thought. It was never too far out of reach. Buffy folded her arms and flinched at the pressure on her ribs.
“Healing.” The only thing. “It didn’t look that bad this morning; does it look worse here under these death lights?”
“It’s a little shiny,” Willow said reluctantly. “But not really all that noticeable.”
“I don’t know, I think I could help get that eye back to form,” a voice sneered from over Buffy’s shoulder. The blonde instinctively melted into a hostile stance as she turned around to face Jennifer Mara, her fists clenching.
Buffy smirked. Jennifer easily stood a couple of inches over Buffy’s slight frame and was much wider, not that this was much of an aid towards her cause. She may have gotten in a good hit with her eye last time - right, fight with Jennifer was the cause for her current ailments - but that didn’t mean Buffy hadn’t kicked her ass then and she most certainly wasn’t afraid to continue said ass kicking.
“Mara,” Buffy said, cocking her head. “So eager to get closer to a broken jaw?”
Jennifer smirked. “Please. Your pussy slappings didn’t do shit to me.”
Buffy noticed Xander walking back towards them in her peripheral and she realized a small crowd had already begun to grow. Again. Xander shot her a warning look, fear and animosity in his eyes. Buffy wanted to tell him not to worry, things would be fine. Not only could she take care of herself, she could very easily take care of her friends against stupid assholes like this girl.
“Buffy...” Willow said with a tremor in her voice and Buffy felt her friend’s hand on her shoulder. “Come on.”
“Nah, Red, stick around,” Jennifer continued, smiling coldly. She stepped up so she was breathing down onto Buffy and Buffy felt the bliss of adrenaline running through her veins in anticipation. “Your little bitch friend here needs to learn a few more lessons.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, her relaxation in that moment not lasting as Jennifer continued, “Can’t leave all the teaching to the parents.” Buffy felt everything stop in that moment, slow everything down as she reacted in the only way she knew how to.
Some nasty snarls masquerading as laughter came from behind Jennifer and Buffy saw red. Fuck her and fuck her thinking she knew what she was talking about.
Buffy dropped her bag to the floor, advancing on her and Jennifer immediately backed up, her hands following; the cruel grin on her face grew, knowing she had hit a sore spot. Out of the corner of her eye Buffy saw Cordelia shaking her head and Liam staring intently as they too joined the crowd. The thought that she should step back, boys didn’t like girls who actively pursued bruises... but then all of it was a blur as the students began murmuring the classic sounds of “FIGHT!”
Pulling her arm back, her hand closed into a fist, Buffy felt a strong hand grab her and pull her back. Buffy threw her head around to see Xander gripping her arm, his fingers white as her skin in their hold. Her eyes flew to Willow standing over his shoulder, looking frightened. Clenching her jaw, Buffy forced herself to stop and relax. She released her hand, her mind awhirl with too many thoughts but she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Right. Fighting bad.
Groans of disappointment followed from the crowd; some rolled their eyes or threw up their hands and walked away. Some attempted to urge her on, throwing catcalls, but Buffy ignored them. She turned away, the fight instantly dying. Xander still gripped her arm.
She opened her mouth to tell him he can let her go when Jennifer stepped up and shoved her violently into a locker, taking advantage off her divided attention. She felt her shoulder slam into the metal and her head hit the sharp edge of the dial. Xander slipped and fell from the force of her movement. Buffy didn’t think twice this time; she turned around, fire in her eyes and a snarl on her lips.
“Buffy!”
She could hear Xander vaguely from behind her but it was quickly drowned out by the shouts of enjoyment from the crowd. Grabbing a large chunk of muddy brown hair in her hand, Buffy yanked, closing Jennifer’s shirt in her other fist as she prepared to slam her face in the locker, see how she fucking liked it. The bloodlust in the crowd grew. Jennifer was cursing wildly and grabbing at Buffy’s clothes in return when suddenly Xander was back, grabbing Buffy around the waist and lifting her away from the other girl. Jennifer let out a yelp as Buffy took some of her hair with her, holding her head.
“You fucking cunt!” She slammed her hand into the locker.
“Put me down, Xander!” Buffy snapped, struggling in his arms but he ignored her, carrying her quickly through the crowd. She didn’t care about the destination. She cared about the words that were streaming from Jennifer’s mouth. “I’m not kidding, Xander!”
“Shut up, Buffy!” he growled back, grunting as she tried to twist out of his arms. They turned the corner and he dropped her gently against the wall. Buffy stumbled and turned around, running into Xander’s chest. “No, you’re not going back there.”
“The hell I’m not!” She pushed him away, trying to get around him.
“Buffy!” Grabbing her shoulders, he steadied her in her tracks and she looked furiously into his eyes. He looked down at her; worry and fear were in his as they darted back and forth, trying to read what she might do, ready to push her back again. She exhaled loudly in frustration, her body adjusting to the lack of blood flow before she deflated. Looking down at the ground, she felt embarrassment creep onto her face as she took another deep breath. She saw more people coming around the corner, staring at her. She swallowed.
“Sorry... I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking at him and then to Willow. The redhead was staring at her with wide eyes.
“It’s okay,” Xander said although his hold on her shoulders didn’t ease. She smiled slightly, the grin not reaching her eyes as she looked back at him.
“Thank you,” she said softly, not meeting his eye directly. She could feel the gratitude, yes, but she couldn’t ignore the simmering rage underneath it. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to go back and slap that Jennifer Mara upside the head and watch her brain bleed out of her ears. She shrugged his hands off. “I’m good.”
“Your head, Buffy,” Willow said softly. She moved in as Xander reluctantly released his hold on her. Buffy lifted her hand to her forehead where she touched an open wound at the base of her hairline. She hissed when her dirty fingers pressed against the cut and she felt a sticky trail slipping down her forehead.
“Crap,” she said absently; she stared at her bloody fingers. More blood, always more blood. It was in that moment that she felt the sharp pains in her ribs when she took a deep breath. She fought to ignore it, ignore the feeling of cloudiness in her head. She swallowed, forcing herself to focus on the moment.
“I’ll take you to the nurse’s office,” Willow offered, handing Buffy her abandoned backpack. Buffy slipped it on, wiping the blood dripping down from her hair. It left a long smear along the back of her hand. “You don’t look so good.”
“Neither would that bitch if Xander hadn’t dragged me away,” Buffy said tightly without thinking, tugging on the straps of her bag. She stared at Xander. He couldn’t understand how very little he had actually helped her; he had only helped to prolong the inevitable.
“Yeah, it would have been a grand idea to let you stay and get in trouble with Snyder. Again. That’s the Buffy I know, thinking on her feet,” Xander sniped, glaring at her.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Xander stared at her again and she took a deep breath. “I know, Xander, and I said thank you. You’re right, I don’t need the Troll Man ratting me out again.”
The usual awkward silence that followed such talk about the possible repercussions followed for a split second. Her side ached. Just one more unavoidable unpleasantry in her life.
“Well, off to Mrs. Hatchkins I go,” Buffy said, breaking the pause. It was kind of sad how often she said that line. “You don’t have to come, Will. I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?” There was that stab of guilt again - how similar to the stabs of pain emanating from her side - as Willow watched her.”
“Yeah. You know me: been there, done that.” She shot them a smile, meant to be a sign of reassurance despite its falseness. “I’ll see you guys in class.” Before either could respond Buffy turned and started walking back the way they had come. She could feel the stares on her back but she didn’t turn.
“Jesus, Buffy, watch where you’re walking!”
Buffy started, snapping her head up to Cordelia standing a mere foot away from her. She furrowed her brow and frowned at her, unable to avoid switching her gaze to where her boyfriend was staring at her blankly. Right, why would he care about a bleeding wound in my head?
“Wow,” Cordelia continued to muse, “that whole street urchin thing you’ve got going really works for you.” Buffy could feel her skin tingling as her dark brown eyes swept down her body. “Getting into skanky fights just makes it all so much better.”
The Cordettes surrounding her giggled and Cordelia smiled, looking on. She saw the amused look on Liam’s face, his dark eyes burning into her and she could feel the sting of tears starting to collect in her eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The rush of adrenaline had left her feeling tired on top of her already present exhaustion. This was just the icing on the cake for the beginning of her day.
“Fuck off, princess,” Buffy bit out, her eyes narrowed on Cordelia. “Go shove your nose up someone else’s ass.”
Cordelia’s head jerked back in surprise and Liam smirked as Buffy swept past them, turning another corner, disappearing from their line of sight. She closed her fists, her eyes still flooding slightly, aggravated at herself that she let the brunette get to her so badly. Who was Cordelia Chase? A shallow, mean and piece of shit person who wouldn’t know misery if it slapped her in her pretty little face.
Buffy touched her side softly, pressing against the bruised ribs, wincing in pain. She hadn’t wanted to show anything in front of anyone, especially Willow and Xander. They didn’t know the extent of the damage she sustained as a consequence of her last run in with Snyder. Looking back, she felt the rush roaring through her at the prospect of meeting with Jennifer but then Xander’s face and Willow’s eyes came back to her and she relaxed. They just didn’t understand how much better she felt laying it out on the other girl...
Buffy realized how stupid she was being, letting herself go like that.
Taking a deep breath, she stopped walking for a moment, closing her eyes. The shrill stab that let her know exactly where her father’s boot had connected with her ached horribly, and she bit her lip, the pain that she had so easily ignored earlier so much more intense.
She suddenly thought about Liam, touching Cordelia and Cordelia pawing away at him. Great distraction, Buffy. She knew it could never be her. He wouldn’t understand; he would take one look and run away; one look at her abused body and he would be gone. Why would she even want to tell him? The shame and embarrassment she felt was enough for her to never talk to him in the slight chance that he ever did find out the full extent of it.
A tear slid down her cheek and Buffy angrily brushed it away. Tears were unaffordable in her life, they didn’t get you anywhere but trouble and unwanted emotions. Screw the people who didn’t understand, she didn’t need them or their sympathy. Life was a shit hole and she had to believe it wouldn’t stay that way.
Get out... get out... while you still can. Save yourself for just a little longer and then freedom from this monstrosity...
Buffy took a shallow breath and continued on to the nurse’s office, the dried blood on her head making her skin feel tight when she moved her forehead.
***
Buffy paused as she entered the main office, looking around discreetly... no Snyder. No anyone really, which was surprising as she dodged into the adjoined nurse’s office. Mrs. Hatchkins looked up from her novel - some crime scene investigation sort of book - and her eyes widened when she saw Buffy’s state.
“Miss Summers, what happened to your head?” Mrs. Hatchkins was an older Southern woman who had moved to California after her husband died to be with their only daughter. The stiff accent in her voice was always strangely comforting to Buffy, someone who had once upon a time lived outside of the world she occupied. It helped that the large, gray-haired woman was one of the sweetest people to her out of the staff at Sunnydale High, in a mother-hen sort of way. She also rarely saw her own daughter and she often stopped to talk to Buffy when she really didn’t have to. Buffy smiled despite herself at the concern in the nurse’s voice.
“I got pushed into a locker,” Buffy admitted, her fingers unconsciously going up to touch her wound, instantly regretting it as the stinging pain caused her to wince. Mrs. Hatchkins stood up.
“Come on, come on,” she said, moving around with an assured efficiency of knowing where everything was and know what to do with all of it. She pulled out a few bandages and some peroxide, motioning for Buffy to follow her across the room to the small sink in the corner. “What happened?”
“Nothing serious. Just a little fight.” Buffy watched the older woman prepare some cotton balls.
“You and thar Mara girl again?” Mrs. Hatchkins said, eyeing Buffy who looked down at the floor. The nurse started cleaning the blood off of Buffy’s forehead. She hissed softly when she reached the wound and closed her eyes against it. “Another fight?”
“Just a little one.” Buffy’s voice was small. She pouted slightly but only because it gave her a small warm fuzzy feeling that Mrs. Hatchkins responded to it.
“What happened then?”
“Nothing really. Xander grabbed me away before anything could happen.” To her.
“Mr. Harris,” she clarified. “He’s a good friend then.”
“Yeah. He is.”
Buffy watched as the nurse suddenly reached behind Buffy for something - more cotton balls, a Band-Aid, she wasn’t sure - but her arm bumped into hers and straight into her side. Buffy gasped loudly at the sudden touch to her ribs, her bruise all the more sensitive after the manhandling from just a few moments ago. Tears popped into her eyes and she closed them instantly, swallowing them down.
“Buffy?”
She smiled before she opened her eyes. “I’m fine.” It was the kind of pain that took your breath away, it was so powerfully deep. She shook her head; trying to shake the pain away.
Mrs. Hatchkins stared at her. “Did something happen to your side in the incident?”
Buffy finally opened her eyes and shook her head, meeting her eyes. She didn’t like what she saw there, pausing. Mrs. Hatchkins didn’t believe her own words. She shook her head again, smiling tightly. “No, I’m fine. Just took me... by surprise.” She crossed her arms, stiffening as the motion put more stress on her side.
“Would you mind if I took a look?”
Buffy laughed, almost shrilly, and she shook her head. “No no,” she said awkwardly. “It’s no big.” The comfortable air from when she had first entered the office was completely gone. In its place were far too many pregnant pauses. The thought that she should get up and out of there floated in her head. She refused to look at the nurse as she moved to throw away the used cotton balls.
Mrs. Hatchkins may be the nicest person to her in the entire school building in a way that only she could achieve... but that was because she didn’t know anything about Buffy. And Buffy wanted to keep it that way, she didn’t need to know how useless she was.
Forcing herself to stand still, she flinched every few seconds as Mrs. Hatchkins inspected the cut and deeming it “not-too-bad,” she proceeded to attach a large bandage across it, hidden just under her hairline. She felt some her hair being pulled.
“There, that’s better.” Buffy watched as the nurse washed her hands vigorously. More awkward followed when Mrs. Hatchkins stared at Buffy for a moment, waiting for her to just spill the beans on what was going on.
Nothing happened.
“Now I don’t want to have to see you in here again, you hear?”
Buffy wasn’t sure as to what she was referring to; she looked more serious than she should be with a simple cut but she nodded either way.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, giving a tiny fake salute in an effort to dilute the tense air.
Mrs. Hatchkins smiled slightly. “Now let me get you a pass to your next class.”
“Thanks. I...” Buffy paused. “I appreciate it.” She smiled as she took the pass. The woman nodded her head and watched Buffy grab her bag carefully and leave the office.
As she walked out the door, she didn’t turn or she would see Mrs. Hatchkins watching her go, her eyes full of worry.
She shook her head. “That poor girl.”
Author's Note: This story is still in the writing and planning stages so there will be additional changes to the parts that I continue to post but if there is something major - as in altering something completely - I will note it as I continue post. :)
Please see Prologue here for additional information and disclaimer.
This Part Rated R
Summary: AU; Buffy and Angel are teens and from the opposite sides of the tracks with very different circumstances that come to light over a school project.
The small room was dark - always dark - the blinds of the filthy windows closed tightly, barely letting slim chances of the beginning daylight slip through where the plastic was bent or broken. Sparse furniture decorated the threadbare carpeted floor, stains highlighting where larger pieces had once sat. Now, it was just empty.
Buffy Summers walked into the living room quietly, her shoes tapping softly as she took in her mother passed out on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whisky resting on the ground, tipped on its side next to where she laid on the dirty beige couch. The rise and fall of her chest was the only sign the woman was alive; otherwise her face was ashen, her cheeks sunken in and the hollows of her eyes deathly. Buffy stared at her for a split moment, her face impassive, before moving towards the front door, dodging the coffee table that had been pushed against the wall.
A groan came from the hinges as Buffy opened it and she paused, her heart suddenly fluttering to life as she turned around quickly, gripping the door, the sudden pumping of her blood rushing through her ears in a white noise. She waited but was greeted with nothing but silence. The bed sheets rustling echoed from the gray darkness of the hallway leading to the bedroom at the opposite end of the house.
Nothing followed.
Her father continued to sleep.
Snatching her discarded backpack from where she’d dropped it the night before, she quickly closed the door gently and skipped tensely down the porch stairs, not bothering to lock it. She didn’t even know where her key was anymore.
Buffy walked swiftly down the driveway, crossing the street without looking for cars. The moment she was out of sight of the small house, she’d be more at ease; she’d worry about the outside world dangers once she was away from inside ones.
Crossing the yard of a corner home, she glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see her father rushing out of the house, chasing her. A chill ran down her back in feared anticipation but the yard remained blissfully empty. She hadn’t felt the need to run like this in a long time but the night before hadn’t exactly been sunshine and roses. Buffy absently rubbed her left wrist as she lost sight of the house.
Pulling up her sagging jeans, she took a deep breath.
Another day escaped. One more morning averted.
The sun beat down on her head, warming her underneath the heavy black sweatshirt as she walked briskly to school - Sunnydale High. It was rejuvenating, as it was every morning; passing through the stormy fog of her home life into the brighter parts of her reality.
Blinking rapidly against the bright rays, it reminded Buffy of the fading bruise still visible in the hollow of her left eye from a fight a few weeks ago. She couldn’t remember what it was about or who it was with but the sting of hot anger coursing through her was still very fresh. She remembered her eyes blurred; her arm pulled back for the final punch…
It hadn’t taken Snyder more than one minute to appear and break up the fight. He had called her house, had discussed suspending her for a few days - with far too much pleasure, she remembered, having been sitting in his office while he talked on the phone - but her father had talked him down, saying he would take care of it. He had said that Buffy would be punished accordingly.
When she came home that night that is exactly what he had done, with the leather of his stocky belt and the hard steel of his working boots. The bruise hidden against her ribs was still very much evident, an ugly array of colors that hurt to even look at. One wrong move adjusting her backpack put more strain on her side than it would have with a normal bruise and running into anything too roughly was completely out of the question. The good news was that she could say it was finally healing. It didn’t feel broken and it didn’t hurt to breathe nearly as much as it had when she’d acquired it.
Thinking outside the pain wasn’t such a challenge anymore either way. Her wounds always took longer to heal than they probably should but it was worth it not showing that part of her life to the cleansing daylight.
Buffy stared at the cracked sidewalk, holding the straps of her bag. She kicked a lone piece of rubble away, her mind slowly turning over. She was hungry. She had skipped the fast food dinner from last night because she had quipped the wrong thing with her father and she never allowed herself enough time in the morning to eat any breakfast, not that he kept much food in the house. He hadn’t for years, the money usually gone long before a shopping trip is ever planned. Any food that found its way in was usually gone within the day.
Fucker, Buffy thought bitterly, biting her lip. Her memories always brought back the sickly acidic feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could still remember clearly, even six years later, how her entire life had been turned upside down, almost in the space of a day. From happy to miserable with the snap of her father’s fingers… something to do with the stock market, her father investing in something or other, trusting the wrong people; playing dirty... Cheating was more like it. She didn’t know the details and she didn’t want to. It was a few months after the initial financial slap that she and her mother found out about the secretary he had been having an affair with after he attempted to fly to some hole in South America and his card had been rejected followed shortly by the rejection of his whore.
That proved to be the final straw for Hank Summers. That was the first time he got drunk around his family.
It felt like things went quickly downhill after that. What were surely a few hours in Buffy’s mind were actually a few years. Looking back on it, she felt like she had been in a daze the entire time. It wasn’t long before they lost their house. Lost their furniture and clothes in an effort to sale what they could to save what they had, but it turned out over and over to not be enough.
After the house was taken by the bank, Hank moved the family to Sunnydale where her mother had a job offer at the local gallery, a small town where the good side of town and the bad side of town were barely a mile from each other; “a one Starbucks town,” according to her friend Xander when she first arrived, not that she had such luxury.
They quickly settled in, managing to rent a small house in one of the smaller subdivisions. It wasn’t the prettiest of houses, hardly able to compare to their L.A. home; but they couldn’t afford anything to be proud of. Unfortunately this included her father’s frequent trips to the bar as Hank proceeded to spend his days at the closest one to their new home, getting shit-faced while his wife took up working at the gallery, becoming their only source of income.
This wasn’t a huge problem because Joyce Summers threw herself into her work. She genuinely liked art and knew what she was doing. She had loved her new job.
Of course good things never actually last.
As the years passed, Hank held and dropped multiple jobs, mostly manual labor that he refused to continue going to. Sometimes; a majority of the time it was because he couldn’t go more than one day without having alcohol flowing through his system. He hid it well for the first month but by the three-month mark it was too obvious to ignore. Any money he managed to make was fueled back into some bar or liquor store.
What used to be silly jokes and fun quickly turned into sessions of anger when he had liquor in his system. Despite the misery of their existence, his drinking was an escape until reality seeped in too deep and instead of being able to run away, he fell farther into its darkness.
The first time he hit her mother it was over Joyce buying Buffy a dress for the ninth grade homecoming dance. She kept saying she wanted to get something “normal” for her daughter and her reward had been her father reaching out over the dinner table and slapping his wife.
It certainly hadn’t been anything fancy; it was a find in a thrift store. Buffy could hardly remember the last time she had had clothes bought for her. The clothes she outgrew were sold and most of everything she owned was either from her mother’s old stash that Joyce kept during their numerous sales while they were still in Los Angeles; “gotta lose money to make money,” he father repeated over and over. When Joyce managed to save a little money on the side, she encouraged Buffy to go out and get herself some clothes that fit better.
Buffy remembered vividly that night he first hit Joyce. She had fallen out of her chair and when Buffy had started crying, he had thrown a plate full of food against the wall; his fist had met with the table and a glass of milk had fallen over... A week later when Buffy came home with tear in the knee of her jeans from her gym class - she didn’t have gym clothes that day and was playing in her day clothes - and she had been introduced with the power of his fist. From that point on, Buffy walked on eggshells. She began to realize that the Hank Summers that she had known as her father was gone. In his place was a monster playing the part of the man who had quickly transformed into her worst nightmare.
It didn’t take long for Joyce to jump on the alcohol swigging wagon. It began in the middle of the night followed by sips after dinner when Hank would disappear. It got worse after her first black eye. Soon she was drinking with full vigor. When Buffy had innocently asked her why she was drinking so much and why it made her cry after a while, Joyce said it helped numb her. Made the pain easier, made living with her husband easier and made realizing that everything that had been good in her life had been ripped away. She effectively told Buffy that their lives had turned to shit and drinking was the only way for both her and Hank to handle anything anymore.
Her mother became a shell of the beautiful woman she had been in Los Angeles.
And then she stopped showing up for work. If it wasn’t the bruise on the side of her head, it was the hand print on her arm. Then it became sleeping in, coming in late and then she stopped showing up altogether.
Buffy hated her for it. Hated how weak she had become and hated her father even more because he did it to her. To his own family; he had turned them to shit. She felt her insides stiffening at the thought of her mother lying on the couch at home, dead to the world. Her father blacked out on the bed. How long before he drank himself to death and she and her mother were rid of him? Even if she was returned to barely a ghost of herself, Buffy would be happy. She’d be Joyce again, if just a little.
She should feel shame in wishing that she hoped he would die every single day for being the worst man she’s ever know... but she didn’t. Her eyes were dry but she was crying, always weeping on the inside, not for the man who claimed to be her father but at the shit hole that passed for her life.
Money became very scarce after that and she always found herself wondering how any food landed on the table at all.
Looking up as a red car flew past her, Buffy saw the school in the far distance, people already milling around the grass and sidewalks near the front entrance. She didn’t see the trademark flash of red hair and she slowed her pace. Buffy didn’t like having to stand around out front or having to sit at a table by herself, staring at the wood while she waited for her friends.
Almost against her will she found herself pausing when she found Liam Angelus where he leaned against the trunk of a tree. She couldn’t tell what he was doing as far as she was but she shook her head, her brow furrowing. Why should she care what he was up to? He didn’t give her the time of day and she shouldn’t even be staring at him... as she was in that very moment. She couldn’t take her damn eyes off of him and everything in her willed him to turn his head her way, smile at her, wave at her.
It wasn’t too long ago that she thought there might be some interest coming from him, when she first moved to Sunnydale. It had been a little tickle in the bottom of her stomach, before he ever got with Cordelia... Sitting next to him in class, talking every once in a great while. He had even smiled at her once.
But then it had disappeared - a figment of her hopeful imagination - while her feelings for him seemed to stick around with a newfound resilience.
He was wearing his customary jeans and fitting t-shirt. He was so defined and bulky for his age and where most boys were scrawny and awkward, Liam walked with confidence and authority. He demanded respect from people - really just another reason to think of him as the ultimate jerk - but... with his strong jaw and dark features, healthy head of hair and large, beautiful hands... Buffy felt herself blush and look away, annoyed and ashamed. What could she possibly see in him? What could she possible offer a boy like him, what did she have to give, especially when he already had something the entire male population of the school envied.
Cordelia Chase sauntered up to him and Buffy could see him smile from where she was as he pushed off the tree to meet her. She kissed him quickly on the lips and he wrapped his arm around her waist. They were the quintessential teenage couple of Sunnydale High School. Popular, gorgeous beyond belief and utterly adorable together, she thought sarcastically. Buffy felt her stomach twist; she couldn’t tear her eyes away as Cordelia leaned in and whispered in his ear, handing him her books as she turned to approach her other half.
Harmony Kendall and Cordelia Chase made a cutesy show of doing the French air kisses on their cheeks and appraising each other’s clothes. It was people like these that made Buffy hate herself even more. They had everything: the clothes, the cars, the houses, the parents who didn’t hate each other and abuse themselves and everything around them. And because they had all of this they felt it gave them the right to look down on people like her. It would be a very cold day in hell when Cordelia didn’t quip about Buffy’s clothes or her hair and Harmony didn’t remark on her lack of makeup which “makes her look like a sallow cow. Not that makeup would help.” Cackle cackle. A little gaggle of girls followed both of them as Cordelia turned and grabbed Liam’s hand, pulling him into the fray.
Yeah, Buffy, you’ve got a great chance with him, the King of Ignoring Everything But Precious Cordelia. Buffy remembered a time when it hadn’t always been like that. When he hadn’t always been like that but that was a long, long time ago when she first came to town. Before, well, everything.
Slowly the crowd around them grew as Liam moved to his best friend who was attempting to make a snack of Harmony’s neck. While Cordelia and Liam were The Couple, Harmony and William “Spike” Rosen - nicknamed for his penchant for railroad spikes and mostly because he insisted on it in middle school - were The Dysfunctional Couple. It worked in such a disgusting way and it only made the knife in Buffy’s gut twist a little more because she knew she had more than a crush on the tall boy. The boy who couldn’t deem himself low enough to even look twice at her anymore, if he even looked the first time. Buffy felt her eyes swelling slightly and she bit her tongue. Of all the shit in her life worth crying over, she chose Liam Angelus. Very nice, Buffy, such a class act.
This was one of the countless moments in her life where having an on/off switch for her feelings would be great. Off. Done.
“Buffy!”
The sound of her name rolling brightly off the tongue of her best friend caught her attention and Buffy turned to see Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris reaching the school grounds as she was. Buffy grinned.
“Hey Will,” she said, raising her hand to meet Willow’s excited wave, making Buffy’s attempt look like a wet sad noodle in comparison. She had to be the luckiest person in the world for this very reason: she had two of the best friends she could ever hope for. They didn’t judge her or make fun of her or say anything about her home life. They accepted her and she loved them for it. This was always the bright spot in her day, knowing she had someone worthy in her life that made her feel less like the oil stain on people’s driveways: unwanted and ugly.
“It’s the Buffster!” Xander said with a goofy grin on his face, mock punching her shoulder. “Looking supah fine.”
“And it’s Xander... with his... what are you wearing?” she asked, her smile growing as she took in the monkey dancing on his t-shirt. “Better question: what is it throwing?”
Xander looked giddy as he pulled the t-shit out for better viewing. “Only a... brown banana.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Buffy laughed as Willow stared at his shirt. “That’s not bananas.”
“It is while I am at school, my sweet Willow friend,” Xander replied, putting his arm around her shoulder. “It is while I am within the walls of this place of evil.”
“School’s not evil!” Willow protested, her hands clasped in front of her. “If you would turn in the homework I help you with every night, it wouldn’t be evil.”
“Homework schmomework.” Willow rolled her eyes, not able to keep the smile from her face. It was moment’s like this that Buffy marveled at the patience that was Willow’s.
“What’s up, Buffy?” Willow asked with glee practically flowing from her pores. Buffy wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Xander’s arm was still wrapped around her shoulders or if she was just in a really fantastic mood.
“Not much.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets, gripping the inner pockets as she felt the jeans slip a little down her hips. “Forgot a belt. Having some slight pants issues.”
“Is that a fact?” Xander asked, his eyebrows shooting up as Willow smacked his shoulder. Buffy chuckled.
“Would never happen, Xander... never,” she countered playfully. Xander smiled innocently as the school bell rang in the background. A collective groan echoed through the student body. “There’s our cue.”
“Why bells?” Xander asked as they walked towards the front. “Isn’t it bad enough having to hear Snyder’s voice every day?”
Buffy and Willow giggled, the blonde shaking her head and opening her mouth to respond, blissfully distracted from the large group following them inside.
***
“I swear this school lets anyone in. There should be a dress code or something. I mean, would you look at her.”
Cordelia Chase pointed her finger at Buffy Summers, her eyes scathing as they followed the girl, walking a short distance in front of her. She wrinkled her nose at the low-end jeans that were practically falling down her hips - hello, this only served to fuel the fire about her sleeping around with one of the teachers - and the shapeless black thing that she called a sweatshirt.
“I feel like my eyes are bleeding,” she said with a dramatic pitch as she turned to her best friend. Harmony Kendall nodded, one of her eyebrows piqued as she stared.
“She can’t even wash her hair,” Harmony said with a sneer, flipping her own long dewy locks over her shoulder. “Personal hygiene, has she ever heard of it?”
“A guy’s opinion, please... Liam, would you ever date that?”
Liam Angelus looked up when Cordelia touched his arm and followed her long, red nail as she pointed at the small group coming to a stop by some lockers. She could only be talking about Buffy Summers. His eyes narrowed as he took her in.
Everyone knew about her. They knew where she lived, that her father was a raging alcoholic with a raging fist when somebody displeased him; it wasn’t news anymore when he would turn up outside the seediest bar downtown having been thrown out - again - because he got into another fight. Her mother wasn’t any different. Liam couldn’t honestly remember the last time he saw her mother sober, if he saw her at all. He would feel bad for Buffy if she wasn’t such a damn bitch herself. He used to feel bad but as the years went on it died as she herself got worse.
She was just like any other student when she came from Los Angeles a couple of years ago and Liam had even entertained the idea of asking her out. Sure it was obvious that her home life wasn’t the most ideal. She didn’t seem to change clothes a lot and she was more withdrawn than a girl who looked like her should be but she was alright. They even talked a little here and there and he once got a genuine - gorgeous - smile from her. She used to be normal but it didn’t last very long. Liam remembered the year she changed, after a summer away from school. She came back different, full of more anger and rage than she ever had before and she took all of it out on anyone who came near her. The only people she seemed to relax around were her less-than-fantastic friends. They formed a triangle of losers and misfits. A wonderful high school cliche; both Buffy and her little clique.
Gone was the interesting creature who had moved from L.A. and in her place was a broken form who toted a rather large chip on her shoulder.
“Not if you paid me in gold coins covered in naked women,” he said, turning to throw a half-smile at his girlfriend, her eyes glazing into a glare at his words. He did so love getting under her skin, it was too easy.
“That’s not funny, Liam. Seriously, she’s a disease and somebody should look into getting it removed.”
Liam was still staring at Buffy’s back, staring at her thin body with slight revulsion - stick-thin was not what he would call exciting in the backseat of his car, especially when he had a Cordelia Chase running around with him; the blonde used to fit into that category, key words being ‘used to’ - when Buffy turned and caught his eye. Her cheeks immediately blotched red and her eyes widened. He stared at her blankly before turning away. The logical part of him knew that she was just lashing out because of the way of her life had turned, that she didn’t ask for it. But it didn’t help anything being a bitch to everyone and everything.
It didn’t escape his attention that she looked more sickly than normal nor that she seriously needed someone to mend the deep crack hiding in her eyes but... It wasn’t his concern. Waxing poetry over the crazy girl... nice.
“Why waste your time on her, Cordy, she’s not worth it.”
“You’re right,” Cordelia said with an air of finality. She turned to look down her nose as they passed them, her voice becoming theatrical. “She’s like a bad dog or something. She just needs to be put to sleep.”
Liam snickered as he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her further down the hall towards his locker. Harmony and the rest of the Cordettes - as they had taken to being called in their sophomore year - continued to follow them, hanging on the brunette’s every word. He briefly wondered where Spike had gotten off to.
“Remember that fight she got into a few days ago with that skanky Jennifer?” Liam nodded, remembering the wild look in Buffy’s eyes as she had thrown her arm back and slammed her fist straight into Jennifer Mara’s nose. She retaliated by elbowing Buffy in the eye but Buffy had gotten the last laugh when she yanked on Jennifer’s hair and slammed the palm of her hand against Jennifer’s chin. It all happened in a split second, the large crowd of students surrounding the two of them, before Snyder interrupted.
“Yeah, that was some good girl-on-girl action,” he quipped, turning the dial on his locker and yanking it open. All this Buffy was talk was beginning to make him uneasy. Thinking too much about her made him uneasy. It was easier to keep her in the bitch category inside his head when he didn’t remember how sweet she used to be, how much he really did used to like her and the first time she came to school with a nasty bruise... It wasn’t worth remembering things like that. It was easier to keep her segregated into categories.
“She probably learned how to fight from her dad wailing on her at home,” Cordelia said with derision in her tone. Liam glanced at her out the corner of his eye but didn’t say anything as he pulled out one of his textbooks. Along with everyone knowing about the shit her parents had become, it wasn’t uncommon knowledge that Buffy also received a roundly beating every once in a while. Liam swallowed uncomfortably at the thought of someone like her father punching Buffy the way she had punched Jennifer.
Talk about uneasiness.
It was one thing to have alcoholic parents who didn’t take care of their own shit - including their own daughter - but it was another thing entirely when said parents took out their frustration on their child.
Hence the categories. It wasn’t his life. It wasn’t his business.
“She probably deserves it,” Cordelia went on, leaning back against the lockers. Her eyes didn’t leave the small group, completely ignorant of Liam’s discomfort at her callous words. “Someone would the way she dresses.”
***
Buffy looked up as she and Willow passed Liam rummaging around in his locker. Cordelia glanced at her before turning around, dismissing her. Buffy noticed her hand snake around Liam’s upper arm as he filled his backpack, not noticing her grasp in the least. Her heart sunk a little deeper into her chest. The look he had given her earlier when they were passing Xander’s locker... She could only imagine what she had looked like: her face had warmed in an instant and her eyes had turned into saucers when she noticed him looking directly at her. Their eyes had met and she felt her stomach becoming intimate with the floor before he had turned away.
Where the hell was Snyder when you needed him to break up some serious “no-touching” happening in the hallway? The one time she wanted the Rat Man to magically appear out of nowhere...
Breaking through the fog in her mind, she heard Willow’s perky voice, talking about homework or a fuzzy purple rabbit or... a computer or something as they stopped at Willow’s locker, having left Xander back at his.
“I’m sorry, what Will?”
Willow stopped in mid-sentence, frowning at her friend. “Are you okay, Buffy? Did something... happen this morning?”
Buffy rolled her eyes, unwilling to give the satisfaction of showing how much that simple sentence grated on her feelings. I shouldn’t have to answer shit like that, she thought bitterly, feeling an aggressive tug on her heart. Even from her best friend.
“Nothing more than the usual,” she replied breezily. She waved her hand. “You know, mom passed out on the couch. Dad dead to the world in the bedroom. At least we can all hope.” She smiled stiffly.
Willow frowned, pursing her lips. Buffy glared at her. “Seriously, nothing happened.” Buffy wanted to feel bad about snapping at her but... these questions were bullshit. Well, more the unconscious pity seeping from her friend’s eyes was the bullshit. “I was just distracted by someone. That’s all.”
“He’s a jerk, Buffy,” Willow said instantly, pulling out a folder. Buffy frowned in consternation that she knew immediately who she was talking about. She feigned annoyance that she was obviously so transparent but she felt a secret giddiness to clear the conversation from her parents to Liam Angelus. And he was a jerk; and it made her more of a jerk because she liked him... he was dating Cordelia Chase for god’s sake, that spoke volumes right there.
“I know,” Buffy mumbled.
“He’s not worth it. He’s a big ol’ jerk face who dates... stupid people.”
“I get it, Will.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “He’s a jerk; I’m an idiot for liking the jerk. Not uncommon knowledge around here.”
“I didn’t say that, Buffy...”
“No, I know. It’s just...” She took a deep breath. She felt the sudden urge to turn to her friend and tell her everything and anything Liam-related but she pushed it away. He wasn’t the person for her to like and she didn’t want to encourage Willow knowing more about an additional failure on her part in life. She didn’t have enough crap at home, she puts herself through more misery by liking someone she can never - not in a million years - have.
“It’s just that I’m done with Downerville in Buffydom.” She flashed Willow a wide grin. “Really.”
“I’m here if you want to talk, Buffy,” Willow said, closing her locker. She smiled. “Even if he’s a jerkface.”
Buffy laughed. “I know.” She shrugged. “But there’s nothing to talk about.”
Her friend’s eyebrow went up as she studied Buffy doubtfully.
“Well okay,” Willow said. “How’s your eye doing?”
Welcome back to Downerville in Buffydom, Buffy thought. It was never too far out of reach. Buffy folded her arms and flinched at the pressure on her ribs.
“Healing.” The only thing. “It didn’t look that bad this morning; does it look worse here under these death lights?”
“It’s a little shiny,” Willow said reluctantly. “But not really all that noticeable.”
“I don’t know, I think I could help get that eye back to form,” a voice sneered from over Buffy’s shoulder. The blonde instinctively melted into a hostile stance as she turned around to face Jennifer Mara, her fists clenching.
Buffy smirked. Jennifer easily stood a couple of inches over Buffy’s slight frame and was much wider, not that this was much of an aid towards her cause. She may have gotten in a good hit with her eye last time - right, fight with Jennifer was the cause for her current ailments - but that didn’t mean Buffy hadn’t kicked her ass then and she most certainly wasn’t afraid to continue said ass kicking.
“Mara,” Buffy said, cocking her head. “So eager to get closer to a broken jaw?”
Jennifer smirked. “Please. Your pussy slappings didn’t do shit to me.”
Buffy noticed Xander walking back towards them in her peripheral and she realized a small crowd had already begun to grow. Again. Xander shot her a warning look, fear and animosity in his eyes. Buffy wanted to tell him not to worry, things would be fine. Not only could she take care of herself, she could very easily take care of her friends against stupid assholes like this girl.
“Buffy...” Willow said with a tremor in her voice and Buffy felt her friend’s hand on her shoulder. “Come on.”
“Nah, Red, stick around,” Jennifer continued, smiling coldly. She stepped up so she was breathing down onto Buffy and Buffy felt the bliss of adrenaline running through her veins in anticipation. “Your little bitch friend here needs to learn a few more lessons.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, her relaxation in that moment not lasting as Jennifer continued, “Can’t leave all the teaching to the parents.” Buffy felt everything stop in that moment, slow everything down as she reacted in the only way she knew how to.
Some nasty snarls masquerading as laughter came from behind Jennifer and Buffy saw red. Fuck her and fuck her thinking she knew what she was talking about.
Buffy dropped her bag to the floor, advancing on her and Jennifer immediately backed up, her hands following; the cruel grin on her face grew, knowing she had hit a sore spot. Out of the corner of her eye Buffy saw Cordelia shaking her head and Liam staring intently as they too joined the crowd. The thought that she should step back, boys didn’t like girls who actively pursued bruises... but then all of it was a blur as the students began murmuring the classic sounds of “FIGHT!”
Pulling her arm back, her hand closed into a fist, Buffy felt a strong hand grab her and pull her back. Buffy threw her head around to see Xander gripping her arm, his fingers white as her skin in their hold. Her eyes flew to Willow standing over his shoulder, looking frightened. Clenching her jaw, Buffy forced herself to stop and relax. She released her hand, her mind awhirl with too many thoughts but she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Right. Fighting bad.
Groans of disappointment followed from the crowd; some rolled their eyes or threw up their hands and walked away. Some attempted to urge her on, throwing catcalls, but Buffy ignored them. She turned away, the fight instantly dying. Xander still gripped her arm.
She opened her mouth to tell him he can let her go when Jennifer stepped up and shoved her violently into a locker, taking advantage off her divided attention. She felt her shoulder slam into the metal and her head hit the sharp edge of the dial. Xander slipped and fell from the force of her movement. Buffy didn’t think twice this time; she turned around, fire in her eyes and a snarl on her lips.
“Buffy!”
She could hear Xander vaguely from behind her but it was quickly drowned out by the shouts of enjoyment from the crowd. Grabbing a large chunk of muddy brown hair in her hand, Buffy yanked, closing Jennifer’s shirt in her other fist as she prepared to slam her face in the locker, see how she fucking liked it. The bloodlust in the crowd grew. Jennifer was cursing wildly and grabbing at Buffy’s clothes in return when suddenly Xander was back, grabbing Buffy around the waist and lifting her away from the other girl. Jennifer let out a yelp as Buffy took some of her hair with her, holding her head.
“You fucking cunt!” She slammed her hand into the locker.
“Put me down, Xander!” Buffy snapped, struggling in his arms but he ignored her, carrying her quickly through the crowd. She didn’t care about the destination. She cared about the words that were streaming from Jennifer’s mouth. “I’m not kidding, Xander!”
“Shut up, Buffy!” he growled back, grunting as she tried to twist out of his arms. They turned the corner and he dropped her gently against the wall. Buffy stumbled and turned around, running into Xander’s chest. “No, you’re not going back there.”
“The hell I’m not!” She pushed him away, trying to get around him.
“Buffy!” Grabbing her shoulders, he steadied her in her tracks and she looked furiously into his eyes. He looked down at her; worry and fear were in his as they darted back and forth, trying to read what she might do, ready to push her back again. She exhaled loudly in frustration, her body adjusting to the lack of blood flow before she deflated. Looking down at the ground, she felt embarrassment creep onto her face as she took another deep breath. She saw more people coming around the corner, staring at her. She swallowed.
“Sorry... I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking at him and then to Willow. The redhead was staring at her with wide eyes.
“It’s okay,” Xander said although his hold on her shoulders didn’t ease. She smiled slightly, the grin not reaching her eyes as she looked back at him.
“Thank you,” she said softly, not meeting his eye directly. She could feel the gratitude, yes, but she couldn’t ignore the simmering rage underneath it. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to go back and slap that Jennifer Mara upside the head and watch her brain bleed out of her ears. She shrugged his hands off. “I’m good.”
“Your head, Buffy,” Willow said softly. She moved in as Xander reluctantly released his hold on her. Buffy lifted her hand to her forehead where she touched an open wound at the base of her hairline. She hissed when her dirty fingers pressed against the cut and she felt a sticky trail slipping down her forehead.
“Crap,” she said absently; she stared at her bloody fingers. More blood, always more blood. It was in that moment that she felt the sharp pains in her ribs when she took a deep breath. She fought to ignore it, ignore the feeling of cloudiness in her head. She swallowed, forcing herself to focus on the moment.
“I’ll take you to the nurse’s office,” Willow offered, handing Buffy her abandoned backpack. Buffy slipped it on, wiping the blood dripping down from her hair. It left a long smear along the back of her hand. “You don’t look so good.”
“Neither would that bitch if Xander hadn’t dragged me away,” Buffy said tightly without thinking, tugging on the straps of her bag. She stared at Xander. He couldn’t understand how very little he had actually helped her; he had only helped to prolong the inevitable.
“Yeah, it would have been a grand idea to let you stay and get in trouble with Snyder. Again. That’s the Buffy I know, thinking on her feet,” Xander sniped, glaring at her.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Xander stared at her again and she took a deep breath. “I know, Xander, and I said thank you. You’re right, I don’t need the Troll Man ratting me out again.”
The usual awkward silence that followed such talk about the possible repercussions followed for a split second. Her side ached. Just one more unavoidable unpleasantry in her life.
“Well, off to Mrs. Hatchkins I go,” Buffy said, breaking the pause. It was kind of sad how often she said that line. “You don’t have to come, Will. I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?” There was that stab of guilt again - how similar to the stabs of pain emanating from her side - as Willow watched her.”
“Yeah. You know me: been there, done that.” She shot them a smile, meant to be a sign of reassurance despite its falseness. “I’ll see you guys in class.” Before either could respond Buffy turned and started walking back the way they had come. She could feel the stares on her back but she didn’t turn.
“Jesus, Buffy, watch where you’re walking!”
Buffy started, snapping her head up to Cordelia standing a mere foot away from her. She furrowed her brow and frowned at her, unable to avoid switching her gaze to where her boyfriend was staring at her blankly. Right, why would he care about a bleeding wound in my head?
“Wow,” Cordelia continued to muse, “that whole street urchin thing you’ve got going really works for you.” Buffy could feel her skin tingling as her dark brown eyes swept down her body. “Getting into skanky fights just makes it all so much better.”
The Cordettes surrounding her giggled and Cordelia smiled, looking on. She saw the amused look on Liam’s face, his dark eyes burning into her and she could feel the sting of tears starting to collect in her eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The rush of adrenaline had left her feeling tired on top of her already present exhaustion. This was just the icing on the cake for the beginning of her day.
“Fuck off, princess,” Buffy bit out, her eyes narrowed on Cordelia. “Go shove your nose up someone else’s ass.”
Cordelia’s head jerked back in surprise and Liam smirked as Buffy swept past them, turning another corner, disappearing from their line of sight. She closed her fists, her eyes still flooding slightly, aggravated at herself that she let the brunette get to her so badly. Who was Cordelia Chase? A shallow, mean and piece of shit person who wouldn’t know misery if it slapped her in her pretty little face.
Buffy touched her side softly, pressing against the bruised ribs, wincing in pain. She hadn’t wanted to show anything in front of anyone, especially Willow and Xander. They didn’t know the extent of the damage she sustained as a consequence of her last run in with Snyder. Looking back, she felt the rush roaring through her at the prospect of meeting with Jennifer but then Xander’s face and Willow’s eyes came back to her and she relaxed. They just didn’t understand how much better she felt laying it out on the other girl...
Buffy realized how stupid she was being, letting herself go like that.
Taking a deep breath, she stopped walking for a moment, closing her eyes. The shrill stab that let her know exactly where her father’s boot had connected with her ached horribly, and she bit her lip, the pain that she had so easily ignored earlier so much more intense.
She suddenly thought about Liam, touching Cordelia and Cordelia pawing away at him. Great distraction, Buffy. She knew it could never be her. He wouldn’t understand; he would take one look and run away; one look at her abused body and he would be gone. Why would she even want to tell him? The shame and embarrassment she felt was enough for her to never talk to him in the slight chance that he ever did find out the full extent of it.
A tear slid down her cheek and Buffy angrily brushed it away. Tears were unaffordable in her life, they didn’t get you anywhere but trouble and unwanted emotions. Screw the people who didn’t understand, she didn’t need them or their sympathy. Life was a shit hole and she had to believe it wouldn’t stay that way.
Get out... get out... while you still can. Save yourself for just a little longer and then freedom from this monstrosity...
Buffy took a shallow breath and continued on to the nurse’s office, the dried blood on her head making her skin feel tight when she moved her forehead.
***
Buffy paused as she entered the main office, looking around discreetly... no Snyder. No anyone really, which was surprising as she dodged into the adjoined nurse’s office. Mrs. Hatchkins looked up from her novel - some crime scene investigation sort of book - and her eyes widened when she saw Buffy’s state.
“Miss Summers, what happened to your head?” Mrs. Hatchkins was an older Southern woman who had moved to California after her husband died to be with their only daughter. The stiff accent in her voice was always strangely comforting to Buffy, someone who had once upon a time lived outside of the world she occupied. It helped that the large, gray-haired woman was one of the sweetest people to her out of the staff at Sunnydale High, in a mother-hen sort of way. She also rarely saw her own daughter and she often stopped to talk to Buffy when she really didn’t have to. Buffy smiled despite herself at the concern in the nurse’s voice.
“I got pushed into a locker,” Buffy admitted, her fingers unconsciously going up to touch her wound, instantly regretting it as the stinging pain caused her to wince. Mrs. Hatchkins stood up.
“Come on, come on,” she said, moving around with an assured efficiency of knowing where everything was and know what to do with all of it. She pulled out a few bandages and some peroxide, motioning for Buffy to follow her across the room to the small sink in the corner. “What happened?”
“Nothing serious. Just a little fight.” Buffy watched the older woman prepare some cotton balls.
“You and thar Mara girl again?” Mrs. Hatchkins said, eyeing Buffy who looked down at the floor. The nurse started cleaning the blood off of Buffy’s forehead. She hissed softly when she reached the wound and closed her eyes against it. “Another fight?”
“Just a little one.” Buffy’s voice was small. She pouted slightly but only because it gave her a small warm fuzzy feeling that Mrs. Hatchkins responded to it.
“What happened then?”
“Nothing really. Xander grabbed me away before anything could happen.” To her.
“Mr. Harris,” she clarified. “He’s a good friend then.”
“Yeah. He is.”
Buffy watched as the nurse suddenly reached behind Buffy for something - more cotton balls, a Band-Aid, she wasn’t sure - but her arm bumped into hers and straight into her side. Buffy gasped loudly at the sudden touch to her ribs, her bruise all the more sensitive after the manhandling from just a few moments ago. Tears popped into her eyes and she closed them instantly, swallowing them down.
“Buffy?”
She smiled before she opened her eyes. “I’m fine.” It was the kind of pain that took your breath away, it was so powerfully deep. She shook her head; trying to shake the pain away.
Mrs. Hatchkins stared at her. “Did something happen to your side in the incident?”
Buffy finally opened her eyes and shook her head, meeting her eyes. She didn’t like what she saw there, pausing. Mrs. Hatchkins didn’t believe her own words. She shook her head again, smiling tightly. “No, I’m fine. Just took me... by surprise.” She crossed her arms, stiffening as the motion put more stress on her side.
“Would you mind if I took a look?”
Buffy laughed, almost shrilly, and she shook her head. “No no,” she said awkwardly. “It’s no big.” The comfortable air from when she had first entered the office was completely gone. In its place were far too many pregnant pauses. The thought that she should get up and out of there floated in her head. She refused to look at the nurse as she moved to throw away the used cotton balls.
Mrs. Hatchkins may be the nicest person to her in the entire school building in a way that only she could achieve... but that was because she didn’t know anything about Buffy. And Buffy wanted to keep it that way, she didn’t need to know how useless she was.
Forcing herself to stand still, she flinched every few seconds as Mrs. Hatchkins inspected the cut and deeming it “not-too-bad,” she proceeded to attach a large bandage across it, hidden just under her hairline. She felt some her hair being pulled.
“There, that’s better.” Buffy watched as the nurse washed her hands vigorously. More awkward followed when Mrs. Hatchkins stared at Buffy for a moment, waiting for her to just spill the beans on what was going on.
Nothing happened.
“Now I don’t want to have to see you in here again, you hear?”
Buffy wasn’t sure as to what she was referring to; she looked more serious than she should be with a simple cut but she nodded either way.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, giving a tiny fake salute in an effort to dilute the tense air.
Mrs. Hatchkins smiled slightly. “Now let me get you a pass to your next class.”
“Thanks. I...” Buffy paused. “I appreciate it.” She smiled as she took the pass. The woman nodded her head and watched Buffy grab her bag carefully and leave the office.
As she walked out the door, she didn’t turn or she would see Mrs. Hatchkins watching her go, her eyes full of worry.
She shook her head. “That poor girl.”
Author's Note: This story is still in the writing and planning stages so there will be additional changes to the parts that I continue to post but if there is something major - as in altering something completely - I will note it as I continue post. :)