Welcome to my first Sweeny Todd fanfic! I should tell you all this before I get started, I have only seen the movie once. But, I couldn't pass this idea up. As you all know, I love creating females OC's that change the characters view at life. Same idea for this one, but different movie. Enjoy. I have a question. What is Sweeny's Barber shop called? My brother keeps telling me that it's "Polish you off" but, I don't believe him. Is what he says true?

Thanks,

~BethQueenofRoses~

Summary: Genevieve Violet Willoughby is an orphan of two years. Cold and starving, Genevieve rides the back streets of London upon her only possession, her black stallion, Gulliver. Once a rich heiress, Genevieve is determined to begin a new life. During a dark and rainy night, as the two trotted down Fleet Street, a cry in the night catches their attention. When Genevieve discovers that it is Nellie Lovette-who has been robbed and injured, Genevieve is stunned, and helps the woman to safety. Ms. Lovette takes the girl under her wing, giving her a job in her bakery. Genevieve is happier than ever. Until, a tall, dark man moves into town, Sweeny Todd. Genevieve notices a change in 's behavior. Will Genevieve be able to find why Sweeny Todd is altering the moods around those around her?

My name is Genevieve Violet Willoughby, and there is only one truly interesting thing about me; I am an orphan of two years. I have no home, no friends, no one to call my own. I spend the days riding the streets as a beggar. I circle Fleet Street many a day, upon my only possession, my black stallion, Gulliver. Riding completely at liberty- no saddle or bridle, holding his mane- I walk the glum streets looking for a way to begin my new life. I have no clue why, but Fleet Street feels like home to me. Every time I round a corner, and come off of Fleet Street, my stomach begins to churn and I can't help but turn around. Life was good for me, until the accident happened. I was the daughter of proud, rich parents, now; I'm a homeless lug who has nothing to offer except for a stallion.

I was born in London to English parents. They owned many businesses. We had ships, horses, dogs, cooks, maids, and even three butlers, all along with a huge manor. My life was perfect back then, until someone retaliated against my father, and set our whole manor aflame. Gulliver and I were the only survivors. From then on, we spent our days wandering the streets. There are two of us, and one-half of us is practically starving; me. Gulliver eats grass from the fields near the ship yards. Here, we sleep under a bridge, huddled against one another for warmth.

As we plodded down Fleet Street one morning, people shot me absurd looks, as if they have never noticed me before. How could they notice a good-for-nothing orphan girl riding a dirty black stallion, then again, how could anyone? With the sound of whispers and Gulliver's gentle clip-clop against the cobblestone street, something does not seem quite right. Normally, the street is filled with the giggles of drunken rich men, and the laughter of children- who are actually well fed- as they chased one another. Something about this day wasn't right in the least bit. I first noticed it when Mrs. Lovette's bakery was not as filled as it usually is. As I rode at a walk past it, looking through the window, I could only spot two or three people, rather than ten or fifteen. Had it been a normal day, the bakery would have early birds craving delicious meat pies, piling in making a quick wad of money. I had such urges to try a meat pie for myself, if only I could make myself the smallest pound. I would walk into there, and buy one, and share it with Gulliver as well.

"Get out of the road, girl!" a rather stout man sneered at me.

I sighed, and, forced to obey, slightly pressed my left heel against Gulliver's side, making him move to the edge of the road. Most people got out of the way of Gulliver and I, but, some are plain rude. It's not like I'm trying to be first, I'm just going wherever the crowded streets take me, really.

One rainy evening, I was forced to trot down Fleet Street, rather than walk. The thunder and lightning was close to London, and we had to take cover under our bridge. Candles flickered in their glass containers in the windows of shops and homes. I was soaked, so was Gulliver, and so was my single brown dress. I would have cantered, had it not been for the chance of Gulliver slipping out from under me on the muddy roads. The chance scared me. Hence, I stayed at a mere trot. As we neared the end of the street, a loud, bloodcurdling scream made me skid Gulliver to a stop. He pivoted on his back legs, and looked into the darkness of the street we had just ridden down. If I knew Gulliver as much as I thought, someone was in trouble.

Gulliver shook his head, screamed slightly. He then, shot forward, into a canter, and I clutched to his mane.

He wove through alleys, and around buildings. He stopped behind an old brick building. Why was my horse so off his rocker this evening? He approached the opening to an alley, and stared down into it. At the end, the moonlight illuminated a figure, sitting upon the ground. Two other figures were leaning over it. Gulliver pawed the cobblestone impatiently, and snorted. I tensed as he half-reared, and took off.

The two figures took one good look in our direction, and fled the scene. Gulliver skidded to a halt before the figure upon the ground. It was a woman. I could tell because her hair was taken down, and her hat- that she must have been wearing- was upon the ground. She resembled me in a lot of ways, black, curly hair, and brown eyes. As I looked down upon her half-illuminated figure, I knew suddenly who it was.

It was , the bakery owner.

She had been attacked, in what way, I had not a clue. But I could tell that she required help.

"Help me," she whispered. "They have taken my belongings."

I slid from Gulliver's back, and knelt beside her.

"I know you," she said. She eyed me closely. "You're that girl who rides the horse by my bakery all of the time," she observed. "The girl who everyone claims to see."

I nodded, a little frightened. "Yes, I am she. I am Genevieve Willoughby," I explained quietly.

She gave me a look filled with hope. "Help me, Genevieve," she whispered.

I had just met her, but I had to help her. Something in my head told me that I could benefit greatly for aiding her. So, I helped her onto Gulliver, and I mounted in front of her, she held onto my waist tightly. She put her hat on her head with a free hand. I felt like a heroine for once in the past two years, rather than a homeless orphan. I gently walked the wet woman and the horse onto the illuminated street.

"What on earth are you doing all the way out here, Mrs. Lovette?" I asked.

She sighed. "I thought that I saw a man I recognized, so I followed him," she said. "All was fine until those bastards attacked me," she admitted, lowering her voice into something evil and seductive as she said the word "bastards." As we plodded along, I was very careful not to accidentally urge Gulliver forward, for would be sent flying. "They took my money and my broach," she admitted.

I was curious. "What broach?" I asked, for I had never seen her wearing one before.

"The broach me husband gave me just before he…..well, ya know. Anyway, I was attached to that broach. Where are all of the damn policemen?" she hissed between clenched teeth. As we neared her bakery, she said, "Take me to my bakery, Genevieve," she pleaded.

I did as requested. When I halted Gulliver before the bakery, she reached into a hidden pocket of her black dress. "Damn! They stole me key! Thank god I carry an extra. Help me, girl. It's in me boot," she said, holding a leg away from Gulliver. I fished it out, and unlocked the huge oak door. I then, helped her into the bakery, where she sat in a chair. "Ahh, much better," she sighed.

"Mrs. Lovette, I believe that you have hurt you ankle," I said, as I examined it, as she had asked me to. It was swollen, and covered in bruises.

"Aye, it be swollen alright," she replied. She looked over at the single candle I had lit, which flickered on the table at her side. "Light a fire in the hearth, will you?" she asked kindly.

I silently obeyed. As I was bent over the hearth, attempting to start a fire, Mrs. Lovette sighed. Then came the questions. "Why do you and that horse of yours seem to wander aimlessly round these parts?" she asked from her chair. "You should be home helpin' your mum cook or somethin'."

After I finally got a descent fire started, I turned to her, and sat on the ground. "Well, , that's just it. I don't have a family…..well…..I did, I had a wonderful family."

A solemn look came over her. "What happened?"

I sighed. "My father was a rich man, and my mother was a midwife. Some evil man set our manor aflame, while we were still inside. Gulliver and I were the only survivors. I was asleep in my bed, and the smell of pure smoke awoke me. I lost everything that night. Luckily, I had enough time to grab a gown, and save my horse," I said, looking down at my torn dress. "I had just enough time to release the rest of the mounts in the barn. My parents lost their lives for someone's stupidity."

She clutched a hand to her breast, and gasped. "How awful," she said. She then stopped, and pondered something through and through. "Wait, you are John Willoughby's daughter, are you not?" she asked.

My eyes brightened. "You knew my father?"

"Of course, dearie! He used to be one of my favorite customers, just before he met your mum," she exclaimed happily.

I decided to change the subject of my minor heart break. "Are you warm enough, Mrs. Lovette?"

She nodded, and once again, changed the subject. "Were do you sleep if you have no home?"

I sighed, I couldn't lie to someone who I ad just saved. "Under the cobblestone bridge by the sea ports," I said.

"My goodness, no! That's it. Look at me, a bakery owner with an empty house, with untouched rooms, and warm beds, and the fact that a little orphaned girl is starving and sleeping under a bridge. No! That won't cut it. Genevieve, I want you to stay here with me."

I blushed. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly impose on you and your business," I said.

She swiped a hand in the air. "Nonsense. You can work in the bakery with me; I always need the extra help. Besides, I get lonely living all by myself."

I swiped my lashes over my brows. "Are you sure, ?"

"Of course! I insist. Now, run along and take care of that stallion of yours, I'm sure he's cold. You can put him in the carriage house round back. There's an empty stall. We can get food from a friend of mine."

I stood up, and thanked her, and ran out into the rain to put Gulliver in the carriage house.