Red lights and flashing signs. Buffy Summers was pretty sure that's what her life had come to. He'd lost it. Finally. After the years of punches and awful words, he'd. Finally. Lost. It. Blood smeared on her cheek, matting her long golden blonde hair to the right side of her face. Her mother. Her sister. Her brother. Her father. They were all dead. She was alone.

Not that she had much company before tonight, but she was completely and utterly alone. She pulled the blanket tighter around her. Cops all around ignored the fourteen year old girl, trying not to cry. Other's glanced in pity. Detective Rayne walked over to her. "Ms. Summers?" Buffy looked up at the sound of her name.

"I'm Detective Rayne. Please come with me." She slid from her place on the ambulance and dropped the blanket, walking with him. Her eyes watched the ground as it passed under her feet. She looked up at the sound of a curse, something she signaled out in the talkative crowd. The coroner wobbled on the steps as they tried to situate the gurney with a filled body bag on top.

They must not have zipped up the black plastic all of the way, because as they settled the device an arm fell from it. Like some staged movie move. Buffy was frozen in her spot the whole time as she watched the small, slim arm hang over. Almost mocking . . . this. Was. All. Your. Fault. It said to her. Buffy immediately knew who the arm belonged to. Or had belonged to. The slim fingers painted in a bright pink. Dawn.

A choked noise made its way up her throat as tears pooled in her eyes. The way they treated the body. It wasn't cruel in reality, but to Buffy it was. They just pushed the damn thing. The gurney wobbled as the woman wobbled again, something in Buffy snapped. "What the fuck is the matter with you?!" She yelled, silencing the entire crowd and stilling Rayne in his spot. The woman looked up, eyes widening.

"She's ten! She's dead and you are having trouble walking! You little bitch!" Buffy moved to grab her, but a large arm flung her back.

"This is your fault!" She yelled, but she was no longer talking to the poor coroner woman doing her job. She was yelling at another gurney, one where the bag hadn't been zipped. It held the body of her mother. The cold, dead, lifeless body of her mother.

She elbowed the detective in the neck and he whipped back as she ran, her hands slamming the gurney over, "It's your fault!" She sobbed as she body rolled, landing in an awkward position, everyone around was silent, but Buffy's head was pounding.

"It's your fucking fault! You are such a coward! You stayed!" She was screaming at the top of her lungs now. "You did this!" She slowly dropped to the ground as she sobbed in hopeless gasps, tears soaked her face and she clutched her hair, screaming. She vaguely felt a hand gently push her down, trying to keep her calm. A loud male's voice sounded around, but was muffled as he yelled orders to get the bodies out of here.

Buffy couldn't hear anything, but she knew she was screaming. Felt it in her throat. Her stomach. Her very soul. She was screaming after fourteen years of silence. Finally crying out. Finally admitting everything. All the pain and the horror. Her screams lasted until people were running around to just get everything up and get gone. Her screams were painful to listeners. A damning noise that cut through even the coldest of hearts.

Ethan Rayne, finally realizing that she wasn't stopping. Wasn't capable of stopping, lifted her into his arms. He moved quickly jogging to his truck. "Rayne!" His partner called, "Get it done!" Rayne called back, only. Knowing Walker would know what he meant. The sobbing girl in his arms cut to him deeper than anything in his entire career had ever gotten to him.

He set her deliriously crying body into the passenger seat of his car, carefully buckling her in. He moved and got into his car. Pulling out, he glanced over at Buffy when the crying had finally stopped, her wide eyes stared at . . . nothing. They weren't focused on any one thing. If it weren't for the shuddering intakes of breath or the natural tan color in her skin, he'd think her dead.

He pulled over onto the side of the road and sprinted over to her. Unbuckling her and gripping her upper arms, they were about two miles from the hospital on an abandoned strip of road, surrounded by empty fields on either side. "Buffy." He says shaking her and she continued to just stare, not listening. Not doing anything.

"Listen to me." He growled sternly.

"Listen, I get it. You understand? I understand the need to give up. To just get lost in yourself. It's easy and very, very tempting. No more pain, no more memories. I understand how fucking tempting that is, but you cannot do it. You have to fight, because if you don't fight. He will have won. Fight for me, sweetheart. I'll help you, but I need you to fight. Just a little a longer, please." Her eyes were on him and something cut into him.

They were a brilliant emerald green. Wide and way too knowledgeable. He didn't think this girl had any naivety left in the world. They were perhaps the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, too and for some reason a quote popped into his head.

A beautiful girl with gorgeous eyes; a hidden world of hurt and lies.

Ethan then made a promise to himself. He was going to do everything in this power to help this broken little girl in his arms, this girl who has already seen to many horrors in the world. "Please, Buffy. Talk to me." his eyes were begging and something snapped in Buffy.

This man in front of her was right. If she climbed into herself like she wanted to more than anything. Then he would win and she couldn't let him win. So she opened herself. Her mind, her heart, and her soul. The pain was deafening. It had her releasing a silent sob that shook her entire being. She inhaled releasing another broken noise.

"Okay." She breathed and Ethan nodded quickly allowing her to settle back into her chair. He closed her door and got back into his car. She sat up, soft sobs coming from her body, they were broken and harsh; they hurt him. He continued to the hospital and didn't bother parking.

He was out of his car and to the other side before she could move. He opened her door and held out his hand. She stared down at it with moist eyes. She didn't take it though, she just slid out and wobbled on her feet, holding out her hand, in a signal to prevent him from touching her.

They walked two feet apart from each other through the sanitized white halls of the hospital. "Yeah, Detective Ethan Rayne, I need to see Dr. Chang." The nurse nodded and immediately called for the doctor. It was a woman, surprising the hell out of Buffy, but relieving her. Dr. Beatrice Chang took her back into a room, after she showered, she was given never-ending tests. Blood work. Ex-rays. Physical examinations. After all was said in done. Buffy was so exhausted and drained that she drifted from the world the minute her eyes closed.

"B, what's up? C'mon don't leave anything out." Ethan says, his hands on his hips as he pushed from the wall outside of Buffy's room. Beatrice looked drained and upset.

"God Ethan, that girl, she's only fourteen? For fucks sake." She women ran her hands over her head and face before her eyes settle back on Ethan.

"Her ribs are bruised, her leg is displaced. I have to reset a total of fifteen bones. She has past trauma, I've been looking at her medical records and I'm flabbergasted that child services hadn't ever been called in. I mean, Ethan listen to these. Two broken collar bones. She has past trauma with bruises and four concussions by the age of twelve. There is lists of things. In her entire fourteen years, she's had a total of sixty-seven stitches. This is bullshit." Beatrice paced through her rant.

Ethan turned and found his fist connecting with wall. "You would not have believed that crime scene B. It's . . . without a doubt one of the worst I've ever walked in on." Ethan shook his head.

"Ethan who do I make these bills out to? Huh? Does she have any other relatives?" She asked, hopefully. Ethan chewed on his lip.

"No, while you were in there with her I got a call from Walker. She's alone, orphaned and alone. I had him hold back on setting her up in foster care." Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, why is that?" She asked and he shrugged giving her a glance.

"Well . . . look just send the bills to me." He stated quickly. She looked at him, "Fine."

She turned to leave, but stilled and faced him. "Ethan, she's a teenager, a broken one at that with psychological trauma and everything else to worry about, if you are planning to do what I think you are planning to do, are you truly ready for it?"

"Yes." He said without hesitation. He missed her adoring eyes as she watched him. Before leaving she mentioned again, "You can't save all the victims, Rayne."

"I know that, Doctor. But that girl in there, she's not a victim." Beatrice blinked and then glanced to the side.

"Really, then what is she?" Ethan smirked staring into her dark room, his mind already made up.

"She's a survivor, baby."

Author's Note: Survivor, indeed. Alright, so what did you all think? Feedback is needed, appreciated, and oh so wanted. Do you want more? Was is blah? Anything?! This is an Angel and Buffy fanfic all the way. No cheating. No pregnancies. There will be Riley bashing, because I, well, hate his guts. Hope you enjoyed! :)