Disclaimer: I own nothing…
Summary: They’re entire lives, Buffy and Spike have been best friends… And he’s the only one who knows her deepest, darkest secret… Her father beats her… (I know terrible summary… What can I say, it’s 2 in the morning…)

Spoilers: None… It’s Fantasy/AU…
Rating: R

Author’s Notes: Yes, it’s a songfic to Martina McBride’s “Concrete Angel”… It is by far my favorite song ever, so I just had to use it. This is my first fantasy fic, so I’m gonna do my best, but the subject matter is a little difficult for me, seeing as I’m accustomed to writing fluffy when it comes to Spuffy fics… The story will probably revolve much more around the way the whole ordeal affects the relationship between Buffy and Spike, rather than the actual interaction between Buffy and her father… I don’t think I could write that… Not much, anyway…

This part’s pretty crappy… At least to me, but then again, I always hate my writing… But honestly, I did have a much better prologue typed up, but then we had some computer problems, and now it’s gone… Oh well… I did what I could with what I remembered…

Distribution: If ya want it, take it, just give me credit… And, if ya could, let me know where it’s going.
Feedback: You can send it to brock3005@aol.com or otownfan1520@yahoo.com.

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Pain. All she could feel was the pain. Blood dripped slowly from her split lip, staining the torn shirt she wore. There was a large, hand shaped purple bruise blooming on her upper arm. A mark she knew would need to be covered tomorrow, despite the hot California sun. And the bump on her head throbbed where it had been bashed against the wall repeatedly. The pain she felt was nearly unbearable… But none as painful as the hurt she felt knowing who it was who had done this to her…

Her father… The one man meant to love and protect her, now only found pleasure in causing her pain.

It had been so different when her parents had been together. Then, he had been the perfect daddy. He had been nothing but a wonderful father who would do anything for his little girl… But after the divorce, that had all changed. He had become angry and distant. And he had started drinking. A lot.

Tonight he had come home angry. Very angry… And very drunk. The crimson of her blood, which stained her clothes as well as his hands, serving as proof of it.

It was always the worst when he came home that way. Almost every night she saw him, she would be forced to endure the beatings he had for her… But when he was drunk, she knew she had to try her best to stay out of his way. It never worked. It was on these nights that he would force her to do things… Horrible, disgusting things. And if she refused, or fought him in any way, she would be beaten to within an inch of her life… So she had learned to simply do as she was told. It still lead to a beating, but none as serious as those she received for fighting back…

If she pretended it wasn’t happening; if she shut herself down, then she was able to deal. Each time, when she allowed herself to feel the pain and horror of the situation, she would lose a piece of herself. Slowly, from the time that her parents had divorced ten years ago, when she had been a mere seven years old, she had been breaking apart.

She couldn’t stop it… She couldn’t stop him. So she hollowed herself out. If there was no Buffy, there could be no pain…

It was unfair. So very unfair. He was supposed to love her. To protect her… But instead, he was the cause of all her pain; physical, emotional… Did it matter? No. Both were horrifying. Both gave birth to a new and unique terror that did nothing but burn, tearing away from her everything that she was. Until she no more than a broken, hollow shell… Until she was nothing but dirty…

Dirty. Filthy. Her hands, her body, her soul… All so dirty; contaminated. He had done this to her… Him.

And so she hid away. Folded in on herself… Locked away everything that she was, only to keep him from destroying it in a fit of white-hot rage. Her mistake? It had been buried so deep, even she herself could not grasp it. Could no longer find the soul she had cherished once upon a time…

So now she did nothing but wander. A shattered, broken heart born of pain, fear, humiliation, and the ultimate suffering. Her wounds cut so deep that she simply ceased to exist as Buffy Summers. Because she had no soul, no heart… No life.

She was nothing…

And it was all because of him.

But there was nothing she could do to stop him. And it was because of this that she sat, huddled in the corner of her bedroom; cowering in fear of the man who did nothing but hurt her, again and again. Tears poured from her eyes; her pretty blonde hair was matted to her head with a mixture of sweat and blood… The same blood that stained her clothing and the floor beneath her. She was terrified… Because tonight she knew that he would be coming for her again. He had not finished with her yet. Now, all she could do was wait for him to come after her again… And she was terrified.

“Buffy!”

She heard the slurred, angry voice call from down the hall; his footsteps slowly growing closer. Pushing herself back into the corner beside her bed, she squeezed her eyes shut tight as she tried her best not to allow the sob caught in her throat to escape her lips. She could no longer think… No longer feel… Would tonight finally be the night that he finished her off? Would he kill her without remorse? Would that be better than this life she was forced to tiptoe through in fear of her own father? Maybe she would be better off dead…

And then he was on top of her. His breath reeked of stale alcohol and his fingers cut into the flesh of her upper arms as he dragged her to her feet. The bruise from his previous beating was once again throbbing with pain as he gripped that same area forcefully.

“Thought you could hide from me, did you?” His question was roughened with the anger that coated his voice; his eyes full of petulant rage.

“Daddy?” Her tears flowed copiously as she stared back at him, terrified. The word had been nothing more than a tiny whimper… She was silently begging him to let her go. For him to realize how wrong he had been and make everything better… The way a father was supposed to. But it was no use… It never would be. He was no longer a father. He hadn’t been for a very, very long time… And still, there was that tiny part of her that believed he would stop… Believed he was still a good person. Still a good father… And it was exactly that which kept her from telling anyone about his abuse… “Daddy, please…”

Her pleas did nothing to stop him.

As he grabbed her roughly by the back of the neck, she cried out loudly; a sudden fear, stronger than any other she had ever felt, gripped her. And she could do nothing to stop him. He tossed her onto the bed beside them; her head connecting forcefully with the headboard…

And then there was nothing but black…

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