Buffy sat on her bed as she continued to cry. This was the third time he had done this to her and she didn't know how much more she could take. Whenever something got rough between them, he always broke up with her. This time was different though. This time there wasn't going to be another chance. This time he left. She didn’t know where he went, but she was going to find out.
She stood up and went to her closet. She was in the middle of packing he suitcase when her mother burst through her door. "Mom! Don't you knock?"
"I just finished talking to your father and he..." Her eye shifted to the suitcase then back to her daughter. "Just what do you think you are doing?" She demanded.
"I'm going to go find Angel. I need him mom. I need to see him."
"Oh no you’re not, young lady! You’re not leaving this house!"
"Gee, not even a minute and your already yelling." Buffy said sarcastically.
"Your damn straight I'm yelling! Now answer me!"
"I'm going to go look for Angel." She said calmly. When she seen her mom open her mouth to speak, Buffy raised her hand. "Mom! You’re not stopping me. You can't keep running my life like this. Whenever me and Angel fight it’s because you and dad keep tormenting us! It's all your fault he left me all these times to begin with! Why can't you just let me be happy?"
"What? You think your little school girl crush on Angel is what makes you happy? He is trash Buffy! He is lower-class, you don't need him."
"So that’s what it is huh? You don't think that he can support me? What if I want to support him? Did you ever think that maybe we had a plan?"
"You don't know what to do with your hair in the mornings. Hell, you can hardly pick which shoes you want in a store. How in the world are you going to make hard decisions later on in life when your husband has no money to take care of you? It's the man's responsibility!"
"What are you? Stuck in the 50's?" Buffy laughed. "Its modern day, mother, times have changed. The responsibilities are not split like they used to be. It's fifty-fifty. Give and take. Why can't you see that he makes me happy? Why can't you just let us be together?"
"My daughter is not going to 'set up "shack' with a low-life. Do you hear me? You can find better!" Joyce grabbed Buffy's wrist and pulled her down to her father's office. "Hank, talk some sense into your daughter. She seems to think she and Angel” her mother’s pretty face contorted into a sneer “Can survive on their love for each other." She said and practically threw Buffy at her father.
"Don't be an idiot Buffy, you were taught better." He said, hardly even looking up from the paper he was reading.
"I didn't say that! She is putting words into my mouth. And don't call me an idiot dad. I'm not an idiot; you would know that if you took your head out of your corporate ass and paid attention to me!" Buffy screamed and swiped her arm across his desk, throwing everything on the surface to the floor.
Hank stood up and grabbed Buffy's arms from across the desk. "Don't talk back to me little girl." He shook her. "Now, I have a meeting in the morning. I needed those files. Pick them up and put them back on my desk."
"Father." She said simply and shrugged his hands off. "In the words of Angel. Go. To. Hell."
Buffy didn’t have enough time to register what had happened. She fell back onto the floor and brought her hand up to her burning cheek. She wouldn't have believed it happened, but the throbbing pain and the feel of her cold tear against the heated skin proved the moment true.
Her own father had hit her and showed no remorse over it. Her emotional pain was almost as bad as her physical. "Are you serious?" Buffy said and stood up. Her father sat down and picked up his cigar off the fallen ashtray and lit it. "You just hit me and you look pleased with yourself."
"Well, it will teach you not to back talk to your father."
"No. You want to know what it taught me?" Buffy wiped the tears from her face, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her pain. "It showed me I have an asshole of a father and a mother that either doesn't care enough to stand up to you for hitting me, or receives the same treatment." She turned to her mother and put her hands on her hips. "Is that right mom? Are you afraid that if
you stop him from 'punishing' me, you will get it twice as bad later?"
When her mother simply looked at her feet, Buffy scoffed. "Whatever. I'm out of here."
Buffy left her father’s office and grabbed her jacket from the coat stand. She was reaching for the door when Joyce intercepted. She grabbed Buffy's wrist and spun her around forcefully. "What did didn't do a good enough job?" Buffy spat out the words angrily. "I'm leaving no matter what you say."
"Fine." Joyce let go of her wrist and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you leave, don't ever think about coming back."
It felt like her mother just stabbed a knife through her chest. Instead of showing her pain, she raised her chin defiantly and left, never looking back.
Chapter 1
He woke up to the same rap crap he hears every morning, along with the hooting and hollering that came with just-woke-up teenager types. Every morning, around 10 o'clock, the first floor was filled with overly loud teens with horrible taste in music. Usually, he stayed in his bed, listening to all the conversations that were audible through the thin walls. Girls going on about who was with whom, and who was cuter than whom. The guys about different beers and the finer ways to hustle. Not this morning though. With a groan he threw the sheet back and flung his legs over the side of his bed. Today he had to go out on the streets, looking for troubled teens and the like.
He ran his hands over his face, through his unruly platinum hair, and let them rest at the nape of his neck. Taking a deep breath he sighed. "No need to buy an alarm clock, mate. One comes with the job." He stood up and went to get ready for the day.
_______________________
Showered and dressed, he made his way down the stairs into the horde of teens. "Yo, Spike! What’s up man?" A fist was thrust in front of him.
Spike smiled and tapped his fist against the other. "Hey Gunn.’Bout to take a run outside, find some more kids."
Charles Gunn was a frequent at the house. Often there when his parents had a huge fight, or when he was locked out. Spike was never able to deny the kid. Spike found this out when the kid showed up on the doorstep in the pouring rain. It was after curfew, so Spike wasn’t supposed to let him in, but he didn’t have the heart to let the kid freeze out there. Charles, or "Gunn with two 'n's", was a big player on the street. Gangs and drugs were his scene. After 2 months of Gunn hanging at the house, Spike came to the conclusion that he was a good kid, just misguided.
"Cuz' there isn't enough around here already." Gunn laughed.
"What can I say? I like helpin’ to keep you kids warm at night. I'm leaving you in charge, mate. Make sure my stuff stays in place, and not broken. Can't keep you guys warm if I have no more money due to replacing stuff, right?"
"Got it Captain." Gunn saluted and Spike smiled.
"Sppppiiiiikey!" He instantly stiffened up.
He looked at Gunn, fear written all over his face. He opened his mouth and whispered "Help me." pleadingly.
"Oh look at that." Gunn pointed at nothing at the far end of the room. "Gotta go!"
He groaned and slumped his shoulders. "Wanker."
"Spikey! I was hoping maybe you could take me to breakfast again. I just can't get enough of those... What are they called again?"
He turned towards her. "Harmony, I told you, not while I'm working." He took her hand and led her to the door.
"But I haven’t seen you in like forever. I miss my Blondie Bear." She said with a frown.
"I'm busy this morning. You know that I work on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."
"So?"
"Harm, what day is it?"
"Wednesday"
"So what does that tell you?"
"That you’re working."
"Now you’re gettin' it! Tomorrow I will take you out to a nice dinner. How's that sound?"
"Fine! Sorry that I took time out of my busy schedule to come see you this morning." She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"I'm sorry Harm, but homeless teens need me more than you do right now." He stated dryly.
"You love your work more than you love me." There is that annoying pout.
"I love inanimate objects more than you." He whispered.
"What was that?"
"Oh just sad, cuz I don’t have enough time to take my girl out." he mimicked her pout. "I promise. Tomorrow; You. Me. Nice fancy dinner. All on me." He smiled brightly.
"Fine. Only, no sex. You can’t just ignore me for a week then expect me to fall all over you like some, rock star. Okay?" She jabbed her manicured finger into his peck.
"But, Harm..." 'Great, what’s the point of taking her annoying self out then?' he added silently.
"No. You have to grovel mister!" She spun around quickly, slapping him in the face with her long blonde hair and stormed off.
He started off at her back and shook his head. "I don’t know why I bother." Taking a breath of the morning air her turned around. "Alright, you lot! I'm going out for my rounds, Gunn's in charge. Remember the rules!"
He turned around and shut the door behind him.
________________________
Considering her shelter was nothing but an old shack in an abandoned alleyway, it held more heat than expected. The only part of her body that was cold was the tip of her nose. She hated that but she figured it was better than her whole body being cold.
Every morning was the same to her. Wake up to the loud noises of the city, put on her old t-shirt, sweater and jeans, top it off with her hole-y jacket, and go out to the park. She always stayed in the same spot, under a tree in front of the pretty fountain. Some days, she would just sit there; writing songs or poems, watching everyone go through their day as she watched on the sidelines. A nameless, faceless ghost.
Other days, she would lay her guitar case out and sing whatever came to mind. She had a good ear to music and she was thankfully, not too bad with her voice. She usually walked away at night with 100 - 150 dollars on a good day, paying for her dinner and breakfast for the next day. With the leftovers, she bought things that she needed like a new sweater or blanket; whatever she needed most.
She hated to busk, but it was all she could do right now. A 17 year old high school dropout, who couldn’t shower everyday or make herself at least presentable. Anytime she went to get a job, the person behind the counter would look at her, scowl, then shoo her off like a bird. With no other options she had to do what she could. She placed her guitar case down and took out the guitar. She sat down then cracked her fingers to get them ready. Putting the strap over her shoulder, letting the guitar rest on her right thigh, she wondered how much money she could make today.
She always started out with the same song, no need to change the routine now. She slowly started to pluck out the chords, leading her into the first verse.
________________________
He parked his prized De Soto in the parking lot and jumped out. "Thank the lord for Starbucks." He said under his breath and went into the coffee shop.
He came out with his usual coffee with 2 creams, 1 sugar and a buttered onion bagel. He opened the door to his car and sat inside to eat his breakfast.
He opened the newspaper Gunn always left on his passenger seat and began to read about the good old Big Apple.
He was well into an article about a gang fight that went down in an old cemetery when he heard it. The faintest sound of a guitar and singer. Quickly he threw the paper down and locked his doors, following the sound to Central Park.
________________________
She wrote this song in the first week of being kicked out of her mother's house. She had no clue what she was doing or how she would survive, but she knew this was better than living in that hell hole.
She felt it every day.
And I couldn't help her,
I just watched her make the same mistakes again.
She scanned the park. Close to no one was there, which is why she usually started out with this song. It always loosened up her fingers and got her voice ready for the day. She let herself play and get lost in the song.
Too many, too many problems.
Don't know where she belongs, where she belongs.
She wants to go home, but nobody's home.
It's where she lies, broken inside.
With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes.
Broken inside.
Open your eyes and look outside, find the reasons why.
You've been rejected, and now you can't find what you left behind.
Be strong, be strong now.
Too many, too many problems.
She went on singing the chorus and looked up. A man was standing in front of her with shocking platinum hair, and even more shocking blue eyes. Listening to her tale of woe thoughtfully. His gaze was so intense she had to look away. She averted her eyes to the guitar, watching her fingers play over the fret board and continued the song.
The second he caught her eye, he knew he wanted to help her. There was so much pain in her hazel eyes. He didn’t care what he had to do, this girl wasn’t going to be homeless anymore.
Her dreams she can't find.
She's losing her mind.
She's fallen behind.
She can't find her place.
She's losing her faith.
She's fallen from grace.
She's all over the place.
Yeah,oh
She wants to go home, but nobody's home.
It's where she lies, broken inside.
With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes.
Broken inside.
She's lost inside, lost inside...oh oh yeah
She's lost inside, lost inside...oh oh yeah
"That was nice, pet. you write that?" He asked and raised his scarred eyebrow.
"Yeah, I did." 'Don't talk to the beautiful stranger, don't talk to the beautiful stranger..." She thought to herself.
"I really liked it. I play the guitar too. What you got there?" He used his coffee filled hand to point at her guitar, raising the bagel that looked unbelievably scrumptious to his equally scrumptious lips.
"It's a Gibson.... Songmaker Series DSM Acoustic... obviously... Guitar... obviously..." She said shyly.
"'S nice, 'M more of a electric bloke myself. Can I see it?" He finished his last bite of the bagel and held out his hand for the guitar.
"Um.. No I don’t think so." She shook her head and went to play another song.
"I wont steal it. Promise. Actually, if you like, I could take you to get some breakfast and you can tell me how you learnt to play so well." He slid his hands into his duster and rocked on the balls of his feet.
She looked up at him, her beautiful green eyes wide. "You.” She pointed to the blonde stranger. “You want to buy me," She pointed to herself. "Buy me breakfast?"
"Why not? You seem like you could use it. And..." He let himself trail off, knowing he said the wrong thing when he seen the flicker of anger in her eyes.
"I don't need your pity, or your sympathy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be." She said and started to pack up her stuff.
"Where do you need to be, pet?"
"Somewhere… Somewhere that's… else." She flung the guitar case over her shoulder and started to walk down the path.
He quickly picked his pace up and walked beside her. "Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I help my friend, Anne, run a sort of group home for homeless teens. Just with less rules. I just wanted to help you and..."
"I told you, I don’t need your pity, your sympathy, and now I’m going to add on help. I'll be just fine on my own. I have been fine on my own for the last 6 months. So don't worry about me, because I will not be your charity case."
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that. It's just... Can I at least get your name?" He said and put him hand on her arm to stop her.
"It's Bu... It's Elizabeth." She lied.
"Ok, Elizabeth. My name is Spike. Here’s my card, and
one of Anne's. If you ever need anything; a place to spend the night, some new clothes, some food. Give one of those numbers a call or just drop by." He held out the cards, watching her as she hesitantly took them.
"Fine. Just don’t expect me to call... O-Or show up or anything." She said and shoved the cards in her pocket, starting up her fast walk again.
"Ok, no problem." He said and let his legs slow down so he was behind her. "Oh, and Elizabeth? I'm not going to give up on you." He said and smiled when her step faltered.