Rated - PG-14 for language and sexual references!
Ownership: Story - moi!! Ask for permission of useage of characters and storyline. Scooby Charries - Joss and ME, I'm writing this ON MY BIRTHDAY! and they still won't let me get Spike. I mean, I want SPIKE! Please??

Life, As told by Me by Buffy A. Summers

Prologue:
So, it's hard. Life. I don't know why the 'life' people hate us so much, but they must, because they created this stupid world and actually getting from the point of birth to the point of death, so damn hard. Well, my life has been doubly hard, and I wish I was dead, but unfortunately as I tell this, I still breathe. So it all starts about 5 years ago on a sunny spring day - hold on, wrong story. I must have been remembering the fairy tale kids version, the tale I think up in my head, alone at night. But the truth? My life ain't no kid's story. Really it started like this, ....

It was October 18th, 2000. Exactly 4 years ago, today. The reason as to why I'm writing this book about me, is simply to make everyone remember how life SUCKS and will always SUCK! REMEMBER that, it's the truth. My name is Buffy Anne Summers, in case your wondering, and I was 14 when I was stuck in the rain running through Weatherly Park, at 10:00 at night, and I was late. Again. Third time that week, really. Mom was gonna be pissed, and I was fucked, majorly. As I ran, I tripped, ruined my brand new white peasent top, and my mini skirt, and my hair was beyond recognition. I looked horrible, and as I lay in the muck I bawled. -Stop feeling pity on me, it's only the start. Pity comes when it's needed, this is nothing...- Out of no where this guy comes on his bike, splashes me, and runs over my foot. He stopped came back and smiled. Oh, he had the most beautiful smile, even in the rain.

"Hey, miss," he says, concerned, in the most glorious British accent I've ever heard. I don't really know what type British, it's just European. His eyes were the bluest blue, and he had the most incredible cheek bones I've ever seen. Oh yeah, damn. As I recognise him, he recognises me. Stuffy Buffy, always in the library with Willow and Xander and he's William 'Spike' Giles, the librarian's son, but never caught dead in the library, or any school room that entitled brains or the like. "Oh, hey Buffy. Are you hurt?"

As I stare I noticed he's still smiling, YAHTZEE! I scream in my head, doing Xander's snoopy dance. I've liked him since forever, he's in the biggest rock group in town, hangs with everyone, except the Library Muskateers, as they we're dubbed by Liam 'Angel' O'Brian early on in the year. "H-Hey Spike," I say timidly, my god that boy is hot. "No, I-I'm not, just headed home, and I tripped." I reply sheepishly, mentally kicking myself in the head. Suddenly I remember the shirt I'm wearing is white, and completely soaked. I grabbed my jacket and slipped it on awkwardly. Both my skirt and jacket were faux leather, and kinda stylish, not that Cordelia and the Cordettes would ever notice. I have always wanted to be part of their group, a complete tag-along, but I've accepted long ago, that no, I was not - or ever will be - a Cordette, like Harmony, Anya, and Amy were. Lucky bitches.

"Oh, okay, well, your shoe snapped," he said, pointing to my leather sandels, with a heel, stylish, expensive, and now very brown and ruined.

"Great. Just fricking great," I grumbled, and to my immense horror I sniffled like a 2 year old, and then tears fell, and they wouldn't stop.

Spike sat beside me, in the mud, and put his arm, awkardly on my shoulder. "There, there." He said, sounding so uncomfortable and out-of-place. Without warning I buried my head in his shoulder and just bawled. He actually hugged me then and kept saying, "It'll be okay, it's only a shoe." But he didn't know how much shit I was really in. You see, I have a step-dad, and... he less then finds me his daughter. In fact he wants to send me off to -shudder gasp- military school!! Can you believe it? Me? EWW!

Pulling back, I stood up quickly. "Uhhh... yeah.. umm.. sorry?" I offer, meekly, really really embarressed about ... that. "Just forget that ever happened, and I'll see you later." I say hurriedly, while waving quickly and walking away. And to my secound horror of the past 5 minutes, he follows me.

"Your still wearing your broken shoes, and your limping. Plus you going to get a bloody cold from walking in this weather." He says, stating the blunt obvious.

Turning abruptly, he almost fell off his bike because he was right behind me, I glare at him. "Thank you Mr. high-and-mighty helping those less fortunate then you. But I know that, I already have a cold. I'm 3 hrs late, again, and I need to stop hanging out at that library. I'm cold, I'm wet, and my shirt is very see-through. I've ruined my favourite shoes, and top, and I'm going to be so dead it isn't funny, so can you leave me to die in goddamn peace?" I scream in his face, and he backs away quickly.

"Sorry, miss, just trying to help 'those less fortunate then myself', he says, air quoting it all. Shrugging he takes off again, splashing me, and just smirks back at me.

"GRR!" I screech, turning down Revello Drive, finally standing outside number 1630. Shaking like a leaf, from the cold and my fate, I stumble up the walkway, into the house and immediately catch my step-dad's fist in my face. "OWW!" I yell, tearing up again as I see my mom on the couch, crying, and with two new bruises on her face, and three cuts on her legs. "Sorry mom." I say, as the door closes and I enter another kind of hell. Ted's house.