~*~*~*~



Buffy starred out the hazy window, watching the trees speed by. Her hand fell limply on her duffel bag beside her, and her tired body pressed against the window of the bus. She was leaving – running away from everything she knew and everyone she loved, but none of it mattered anymore, because her mom was dead. And it was all her fault.


One Week Ago…


Buffy closed the door behind her, and bounced into the kitchen. “Hey mom!”


Joyce turned to greet her cheerful-looking daughter. “Hi Buffy. What’s with the big goofy grin?”


“Oh nothing. Just that your brilliant daughter aced her psych final,” Buffy said with a smile as she popped a grape into her mouth.


Joyce’s face lit up, but then she paused, “Wait, you’re not joking are you?”


Buffy gave her mom a dramatically offended expression. “What, you don’t think I can ace a final?”


“Of course I think you can, but last time you said ‘I got an A…minus two grades,’” Joyce mimicked.


Buffy looked sheepish before shaking it off and continuing, “Ok, but this time, I really got an A. Ok, A-, but that still counts right?”


Joyce grabbed Buffy in a big hug. “Of course it counts. I’m so proud of you!” She pulled back to look at her in the face. “I told you taking a break from Parker would be good for you.”


Buffy rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Can we not talk about him? It’ll ruin my geek-high. It’s not everyday I get to feel smart,” Buffy half-joked.


“You’re very bright, don’t talk like that. Your whole relationship with Parker was just getting in the way,” Joyce comforted.


Buffy sighed. “Yea, I know mom. I’m just having a hard time making him understand we’re really over.”


“Well, you just have to keep away from him. And if you ever need any help, tell me right away. No one messes with my daughter,” Joyce replied sternly.


Buffy flashed her a smile before giving her another hug. “Thanks mom, for being so understanding through all of this.”


“Only because I love you,” Joyce said warmly as she gave Buffy a kiss on the cheek.


~


Buffy wandered around the dark streets of L.A., arms folded and shivering from the chill of the night. All she had was a duffel bag of clothes and 1000 bucks – with no clue what she was going to do or where she was going to stay. The tall buildings made her feel claustrophobic, and the dark alleys gave her chills of fear. The constant honking and bright car lights filled her head, giving her a headache.


Suddenly a man lunged out of nowhere, grabbing her by the shoulders and she screamed as her heart raced with fear.


“Don’t touch the cat!! Don’t touch it!” the crazy bum shook her.


His clothes were filthy and his hands were wrapped with tattered cloth. Most of all, the odorous smell coming off him made her nauseous. She quickly shoved him off of her as hard as she could, sending him staggering backwards. And she ran. Breathing heavily as she ran without looking back, tears began to stream down her face, reminding her of the day that changed her life.


~


“Parker, I don’t want to talk,” Buffy snapped. She was walking home from UC Sunnydale, and he was following her slowly along the street with his car, begging her to get in.


“Come on, Buffy. Just come inside and let me give you a ride,” he said in his smoothest voice.


“No! I told you we’re over,” she yelled as she shot him a glare. With her arms crossed, Buffy continued to march forward, but Parker just kept inching right along with her in his convertible.


“Can’t we talk about this first? Look, if you get in the car, we’ll just talk, I promise. And once you hear me out, I’ll leave you alone.” He put on his most sincere face.


She exhaled in frustration. Buffy knew he wasn’t going to stop following her so she stopped and headed for the passenger door. “All I want is a ride to my mom’s gallery and that’s it,” she said sternly, waiting for him to agree.


“Alright, alright. I promise,” Parker replied, giving her a big smile.


She got in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut, turning to shoot him a cold look that had him shutting his mouth before he could yell about her mistreatment of his ‘sacred’ convertible.


He drove off, and Buffy plastered herself to the door, putting as much space in between them as possible. She looked out the window, refusing to look at him.


Parker put up the hood as he drove through the streets of Sunnydale. Buffy noticed this action and gave him a suspicious look. He didn’t answer, but he pulled his car over and stopped.


“What are you doing? Why are we stopping here?” Buffy asked in a confused voice. They were only halfway to her mom’s gallery and now they were parked in front of some random house.


Parker turned to her and reached out to grab her hand.


“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, fury evident in her eyes.


Parker said in a soothing tone, “Don’t you see we’re meant to be together?”


She pulled her hand away violently and slapped his hand as it came back at her again. “No, Parker. We’re not. It’s over,” she gritted out.


“But we’re so good together. We feel so good together,” he said, voice dripping with suggestion.


Buffy scrunched her face up in disgust. How did she let herself get so involved with this jerk?
She had broken up with him because he became possessive and argumentative. All they ever argued about was sex. That’s all he ever wanted to do these days. He had quickly turned from the sweet and sensitive guy to the sex-crazed boyfriend with temper to match, and Buffy literally found herself fending him off on a daily basis – sometimes she just gave in. When her grades had dropped terribly low, making her up for probation, her mom had stepped in and helped her realize she needed to get out of this damaged relationship quickly. But there was still one problem. Even after the break up and all the weeks of ignoring him, Parker wouldn’t accept it.


“Are you deranged? It’s over!”


“You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?!?” he yelled as his personality clicked from calm to enraged. “I always knew you were a slut!”


She slapped him across the face roughly, fury overruling her composure. “I’m leaving,” she gritted out, voice shaky from anger.


But before she could reach to open the door, he locked it. Shocked, she turned to look at him, but his face was a cold mask. “Let me out!” she yelled.


He didn’t respond, but rather started his car, put it in drive, and speeded down the street. Buffy sat back and gripped the seat, fear lacing through her as he reached 50 miles an hour.


“Parker, slow down! You’re gonna get us killed!” she pleaded urgently.


He didn’t turn to look at her, just kept staring straight ahead as his car roared from acceleration.


Her heart was beating faster, and her head began to spin as everything seemed to go by so quickly. They were going 60 miles an hour on a little street of Sunnydale. Her eyes were fixated in front of her, scanning the road for anything that might get in Parker’s way. Suddenly, she saw a blur in front of them, too far away to tell. “Parker, stop!” she cried with utter panic.


He didn’t seem to be listening as his maniacal eyes showed his road rage. And as if the world were ending, the car approached the figure and Buffy saw her mother’s face flash in front of her eyes.


Parker slammed his foot harshly on the brakes and Buffy pressed her eyes closed as her body was flung forward fiercely, whipping her against the seatbelt. But she didn’t have time to notice the pain that jolted through her body, because all she heard was the loud thud that hit the car.


Feeling like the fear could kill her, she opened her eyes as she realized the car had finally come to a screeching stop. She panted uncontrollably and looked up at the front window. It was smashed into fragmenting pieces that barely held together. Looking past the broken glass, she saw a body lying on the gravel.


“Oh my god,” she cried as her hand came up to her mouth. She fumbled with her seatbelt buckle with shaky fingers as tears flooded into her eyes, blurring her vision. Finally managing to unlock the door and get out of the car, she stepped forward with shaky legs to look at the body. And then she collapsed. Lying on the ground in a pool of blood was her mother.


~


Buffy stopped running as sobs escaped her mouth. She couldn’t get rid of the image that haunted her for the past week. Or the pain that laced through her heart like a sharp dagger at the thought of her mother. Quickly wiping away her tears, she began to scan the dark and cold streets for a place to stay, or a place where she could get some food.


She saw a dingy-looking diner up ahead and began to walk in its direction. But when she walked past an alley, she heard a scream. Halting in her steps, she scanned the dark alley for trouble. Like a mouse and a mousetrap, she tentatively stepped towards the scream.


Trash littered the murky floor of the alley and she cringed as her shoes squished on some rotten food. Peering around the corner of the dirty brick wall, she looked just in time to see a dark-haired woman standing around with some men. She was dressed in tight leather pants and a matching leather top. As Buffy watched curiously, the woman lifted a gun and blew a guy’s head off. Dropping her bag, Buffy’s body froze in horror at the sight. The four men and the dark-haired woman looked up at the intruding sound.


The woman’s eyes gleamed in anger, and she yelled to the others, “Get her!”


Buffy snapped out of her fright and turned to run back out the alley in a panic. She could hear her heart beat pounding in her head as she ran and heard them behind her. They were coming closer and closer, until finally, she felt someone seize her arm and pull her violently backwards. Two people grabbed both of her arms as she screamed for dear life, thrashing with all her might. The woman walked up to her protesting form and threw a solid punch forward, knocking Buffy out and making her body go limp in the two people’s arms.


“Take her back to Angelus. He might have fun with this one,” Drusilla said as she perused Buffy’s unconscious form.



~*~*~*~



A/N: O.K., I live in Los Angeles, and I have never seen a gang or been actually endangered. Just roll with my L.A. dramatization. Think of it as a made up city if that helps sooth your protests.