So this was a one shot that ran away from me. It'll be about 3 chapters long, but is still a one shot. Maybe one day I'll do another mini story sequel but with the two other fics i have going right now, it's not the best time.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!


1998

Chapter 1

Dean slid into the plastic seats, grabbing the menu and burying his nose in it. Sam got into the booth opposite him, and looked around glumly.

The diner was grimy, with seedy customers and down trodden servers. He missed the small country towns they usually visited. While the people may not have more money, they filled their towns with homey vibes that more than made up for it. It was something he missed when they were in cities.

"Chin up, Sammy! We're in LA! Towns filled with movie stars and Californian women," Dean said to his brother, putting down the plastic menu.

Sam snorted, "yeah, and we'll see plenty of them from our crappy motel room. You should see the school, Dean, it's a dump."

"Thank god I don't have to go back to that crap," Dean replied, looking at the counter for a sign of pie. He smiled when he saw what looked like cherry. Craning his neck, Dean surveyed the rest of the room, like his dad taught him. Any situation could go bad, better to be prepared. As he scooped out the area, his eyes rested upon a young waitress.

A pretty girl with blonde hair, and large eyes, she seemed to be around his age, although her bearing made her seem older. As she worked, the slouch in her shoulders and emptiness in her eyes portrayed a woman much more world weary than her youthful looks indicated.

"Dean, stop staring. You're gunna creep her out," Sam's voice said, interrupting his musing.

"Huh?" Dean replied dumbly, turning back around to his brother, causing Sam to snigger.

"You were burning a hole in her head," Sam said with a smile, "I'm surprised she didn't feel it."

Dean shrugged, unashamed, "Maybe she'd like the attention."

Sam looked behind him before lowering his eyes, "Doubt it."

Before Dean could reply, they were joined by the focus of his attention.

"You guys ready?" She asked her tone flat and devoid of any inflection or emotion.

Dean beamed up at her, giving his most panty melting smile. She stared back, no change in her face. His smile faltered slightly, but he pressed forward, "What would you recommend, sweetheart?"

"Food," She responded bluntly, "Or coffee. That's up to you." There was no change in her tone, even with a small joke. She said her words as if they had to be pulled from her unwillingly, as if any words more than necessary pained her.

Sam sniggered across from him, earning a glare from his brother. When Dean looked back at the girl, he noted the name tag.

"Well, Anne, I suppose I'll have both. Coffee, and pancakes with a side of bacon, please."

She nodded, wrote down the order and turned to Sam.

"Orange juice, scrambled eggs and rye toast, please."

She repeated the process and turned on her heel before Dean could speak to her again.

"Struck out," Sam chuckled mockingly.

"Not yet, I haven't," Dean mumbled glumly.

They waited patiently for their food, speaking about their father, and when they thought he'd be back from the hunt.

As they were talking, Sam looked over Dean's shoulder, his brow furrowing slightly.

Not wanting to expose them to any danger, Dean asked cautiously, "What is it?"

Sam shook his head slightly, "nothing, I just thought I saw that waitress, Anne, over hear us."

"What makes you think that?"

"She moved her head in our direction when she heard the word hunt, but then she shook it, and walked away."

Dean looked confused too, "Maybe she figured she heard us wrong."

"Maybe," Sam replied, unsure but not able to find any way of explaining.

Their food arrived before they had time to discuss it further. Anne dropped their food on the table, and successfully ignored Dean's attempt to catch her eye and start conversation.

She walked away, leaving Dean with his smirking brother.

"Give it up, dude, she's not interested."

Dean glared at his brother, but quickly fell to his breakfast. Sam shook his head, but did the same.

After eating, Sam looked at his watch and got up from the booth. "I gotta head to school, you gunna walk with me?"

Looking towards the waitress, and then the pie on the counter and shook his head. "Nah, I think I'll hang around a little longer. I'll meet you after you finish."

Sam smiled in his direction, "Lost cause," he half sung as he left.

Dean made a face in his direction, watching as his brother exited the diner. His little brother always made sure he made it to school in time, a habit that Dean did not understand. Then again, Dean didn't have the brains Sammy did.

So engrossed in his thoughts about his brother, Dean didn't notice Anne come up to his table until she spoke.

"You want anything else?"

She was looking down at her order pad, but Dean still tried smiling at her. Her eyes flickered to him for a second, and a small lift of her lips appeared. It wasn't a genuine smile, but rather a reaction from muscle memory.

This girl was not always blank, Dean noted. She was used to smiling, but something, or someone, had taken the ability away from her.

Almost as quickly as the smile appeared, it was gone. Deep disappointment filled Dean as it left.

Anne frowned at him, as if resentful that he had gained that reaction from her.

"Well?" She asked hotly.

While he hadn't intended to make her mad, he was happy to have any emotional response from her. He grinned again, "A slice of pie, please."

She walked off without responding, quickly getting his pie, and leaving him to eat alone. All of this was done with a brisk efficiency, cutting off any chance Dean had at conversation.

He ate slowly, planning the rest of his day. His dad had decided the current hunt was too dangerous for him, ignoring all of Dean's protests. It didn't matter that Dean was nineteen. His dad still treated him like a kid. Dean's job was to look over Sammy while John was gone, and that's what Dean was going to do.

This meant trying to get some money together, Dean thought with consternation. He had thought ahead, and brought along his fake ID. There were half a dozen bars in the area. Surely he'd find someone he could hustle in pool, or darts.

So absorbed in his thoughts, he barely noticed as he finished his dessert. Anne appeared almost instantly, asking if he wanted his bill.

"Sure, sweetheart," Dean said with a grin as she finished writing up his total, "The service here is damn good. Nice and quick. I could almost think you're trying to get rid of me."

Anne scowled at him, but said nothing as she handed the bill over. She walked away to bust a table.

Dean smiled at her back, not disheartened by lack of interest. He often found himself bored on days that his dad was hunting, and his brother was in school. Trying to get this girl to talk to him could provide some of the entertainment he needed. He found himself wanting to see her smile again, and given he had nothing better to do, he just might do it. He left his bill amount, and a healthy tip, and left the diner. Before walking through the door, he turned and found Anne watching him go, tip in hand. He smirked at her, and left, shutting the door behind him.


Buffy was five hours into her double shift when the two boys from the morning entered the diner. She watched as they moved through the room, taking the seat they had before, in her section. She stifled her disappointment as she watched them open the menu and peruse the dinner selections.

She had come to LA to be alone to mourn. Being alone was the only way she could deal with the roiling emotions she felt every second. The guilt, pain, and desperation rocked through her, barely allowing her to make it through the day. Only the need for food and shelter kept her around people. If she could, she would have shut herself away for as long as she could. She wanted to be alone with her misery.

While living as Anne, she was able to keep her privacy and anonymity. Her quiet demeanour protected her, with the friendliest of people eventually getting the message and leaving her alone.

With that thought, her eyes were dragged back to the two young men who had decided to become regulars of hers. She found the older one already looking at her, sending a flirtatious grin her way. She didn't have to stop a smile in return, feeling too low to summon one.

The smile he had weaselled out of her this morning still burned. How dare she smile after what she did? She shouldn't feel any happiness after killing Angel, and she certainly shouldn't let a pretty face try and flatter her. She resented the man, wanting him and his young friend to find somewhere else to eat. Deciding to give them the same treatment as this morning, she went over to take their order.

"What would you like?"

"Hey Anne," the older of the two said, his friendly manner not wavering. "I forgot to introduce myself this morning. I'm Dean, and this is my little brother Sammy."

"Sam," the other boy corrected, sending a glare his brothers way. Sam moved his gaze back to her, and sent her a small shy smile. Buffy looked at them both dispassionately, betraying the softening she felt at the younger boys innocence. Dean smiled because he wanted to impress her, or because he thought she was pretty. Sam smiled because he was friendly, and wanted her to be at ease. Against her better judgement, it worked. The kindness and gentleness in this boy melted her icy exterior, albeit minimally.

She didn't realise it, but she had sent a small smile Sam's way.

"We're celebrating," Dean said with a huge grin, "Sammy aced a test today. Only been at the school for two days and he's killin' it."

This time, the smile Buffy gave Sam was genuine and on purpose. It was weak, and barely there, but she managed to summon it. "Good job," she added meekly, not knowing what else to say.

"Thanks," Sam said shyly, face reddening under their attention.

"What can I get ya?" She asked again, her concentration back on the writing pad.

They put in their orders, and she was relieved when she was able to walk away.

Buffy couldn't handle them right now, too caught up in her own hurt and pain. She could barely put in the effort to exist, let alone the effort to be friendly. The small congratulations she gave to Sam exhausted her, and left her drained and empty. She pushed through the rest of her shift, trying not to engage any more than necessary.

Their food ready, Buffy made her way back to Dean and Sam's table. She set their meals down, and asked if they were okay for drinks.

"Sure are, sweetheart," Dean responded, smiling his insufferable smile. Buffy ignored the voice at the back of her head that reminded her, a month ago, Buffy would have swooned at the sight of such a cute boy smiling at her. She hated that part of her.

There was a sound from under the table, and Sam winced. He scowled at his brother, but spoke up, "do you go to school around here? I haven't seen you around."

Buffy froze. The question was too personal for comfort. "No," she replied bluntly, turning and walking away.

The rest of her shift passed with no more interactions, other than what were necessary. Sam and Dean had left hours ago, and all her other customers kept to themselves. It was close to midnight when she clocked off and began her walk home.


Dean left the bar, slightly drunk and considerably richer. The area was filled with dumb school kids who couldn't handle their alcohol. It was a hustler's paradise. He started his way back to their motel room, passing by the diner. As he was close to the building, he saw a familiar figure leave, walking in the same direction he was. Grinning, he sped up.

"Hey there, Anne," he said, looking down at her with a smile. His plan of getting to know her through Sam had failed. He thought she might have had a soft spot for the kid, but when Sam had sent a question her way, it had made her freeze like a deer in headlights. He hoped he'd get another chance now.

She jumped slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

In his drunken haze, he noted her eyes were hazel. Flecked bits of emerald green leapt up at him, drawing him in. They turned fiery as she stopped walking and turned to stare at him hotly.

"Are you following me?" She demanded in anger.

"Woah!" He put his hands up in surrender, "No! I was just on my way home from the bar." He pointed at the bar he had left to emphasis his point.

She gave him an up and down speculative look, turned and kept walking.

He paused for a second before following after her. His brow furrowed as he thought of something, "It's a pretty dodgy neighbourhood. I thought I'd walk you home."

Anne snorted indelicately, and then looked at him doubtfully, "I wouldn't worry about me."

"I'm meant to not worry about a pretty girl walking alone in a place like this? At night? Forget about it. My dad raised me better than that."

"I don't care how your dad raised you. I'm fine, you can leave me alone."

"I can, but I don't want to."

She huffed, clearly frustrated. She stopped walking again and turned to him, putting a hand on his arm to turn him towards her. "I want to be left alone," she emphasised each word strongly, as if trying to get her point across to someone particularly dense.

It was the look in her eyes that made Dean pause. The desperation and agony in them stilled him. This was a girl who was lost, and in pain. By the hours she worked, and the lack of company, he assumed she was alone in the world. Alone, lost and haunted, by something. He had hunted for long enough to recognise the hurt in her eyes. He'd seen it so many times already.

"Okay," he said plainly. "I don't want to bother you, but I don't want anything to happen to you either. My place is along this way. I'll walk further back, make sure you get home okay, and then go on my way."

He saw her search his eyes, trying to find an explanation. She couldn't understand why he was being so nice, and honestly, neither could he. There were plenty of young, lost girls in this city. She was one of hundreds, maybe thousands. It was something about her that resonated with him, pulled him in and intrigued him. She was pretty, heck, even beautiful, there was no denying that, but it was something else that gave him pause. There was something about her that he recognised, something he wanted to explore. He didn't know why, but he knew he wanted nothing more than for her to let him walk her home.

Anne still looked at him, curious, but not answering.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he reassured in a deep voice, knowing how he must be coming across to the girl. A stranger insisting on walking her home, it was enough to freak any girl out.

"I know," She replied solemnly, her eyes not leaving his. She took a deep breath, and breathed out, "Okay," before she started to walk.

He smiled to himself, waited a moment, and then followed behind. The walk back to Anne's apartment only took twenty minutes, and only happened to be ten minutes further than his place.

She paused before she walked up the steps, turning and giving him a slight wave with a wiggle of her fingers. He knew it was the best he would receive from her, and waved back with a smile.

Watching her walk up the stairs and inside, Dean felt lightness in his chest. Confused by the feeling, he turned and walk in the opposite direction, back to the room he shared with Sammy.


Buffy wasn't surprised when Dean and Sam came into the diner the next morning. She especially wasn't surprised when Dean's eyes sought her out, sending a large grin her way. She turned her back to him, turning her attention back on her current customer. She put their food down, and moved to another table that looked ready for their bill.

As she stood at their table, she could see Dean looking at her, a soft smile lighting his face, as if it had appeared unnoticed by him. She blushed at the attention, internally kicking herself and her selfishness. She was in LA to mourn Angel, and here she was turning red at the smile of a cute boy. Her inner turmoil sent anxiety through her stomach, making her feel uneasy.

She pulled the bill off her pad of paper, and put it down in front of the customers at the table. They were all middle aged men, with seedy appearances and seedy smells.

"Pay at the counter," she told them softly.

"Sure you don't want me to work it off?" one of them asked, a leering smile on his face.

She ignored the comment and made to move away, but paused as she felt a large hand smack her on the ass.

Buffy felt her pulse quicken, and her heart race. She felt her blood pump, and clenched her fist. Every instinct she had told her to turn around and beat the man until he regretted even looking in her direction. She wanted to do all that and more, but then she remembered. She wasn't the Slayer here. She wasn't even Buffy. She was Anne, and to protect herself, she wanted to stay Anne.

Within seconds of the slap, she started to move away. A scuffle towards the back of the diner caught her attention. Dean had risen from his seat, thunderous look across his face. The only thing keeping him from coming over was his brother. Sam had a panicked look on his face as he tried to hold his older brother back.

Dean looked at her in concern, his anger and indignation making him quiver. Buffy raised a hand, compelling him to understand she was okay. She saw his body relax, but his eyes still held worry for her. She shook her head slightly, and moved to another table. The table she moved to was next to Dean's, and she watched as he sat back down, still looking at her intently.

"Are you guys ready?" she asked the new table, her compose under control. She looked at the customers and noticed they were a young couple, one that seemed down on its luck. They set side by side, their arms wrapped around each other. Their closeness and their affection ripped into Buffy.

As she looked at them, she recognised the girl. She wasn't sure where, but didn't want to take the chance, and lowered her head.

"Yeah, I think we're good, um," the young man said, before looking at her name tag, "Anne."

"What'll you have?" Buffy asked stoically.

"Well, okay," the man began, dumping a pile of change on the table. A quick look at the money told Buffy they wouldn't have more than a couple of dollars at most.

The customer was counting out the change, "what can we get with this?"

"Well," Buffy started, trying to push her brain into thought.

"Can we get cake?" The girl interrupted. Her voice was light and airy.

"Don't be stupid." The boy replied, his tone soft, his words without venom, "we gotta eat healthy. Can't have cake." He turned to Buffy, "Can we get pie?"

The girl nodded, "That's better. That's got fruit."

"We got peach pie. I can't guarantee there's a peach in it," Buffy responded quietly.

"We shouldn't have blown all our money," the girl commented regretfully.

"It was worth it." The boy replied, before turning to Buffy, "Check this out."

They put their forearms together, showing off matching tattoos. On each arm was one half of a heart. On the girls arm, the name in the middle of the heart read 'Rickie' while the boys read 'Lily'.

"It's nice. It's nice and," Buffy hesitated, "permanent."

"Yeah, well, forever. That's the whole point," Rickie replied.

Buffy was startled at the words and looked up at him. Without knowing it, Rickie had quoted Angel. She dreamt of Angel every night, and in the dream from last night, he had said those exact words. Panic dripped her as she stared at the young man.

"Hey," Lily prompted, staring into Buffy's face, "do I know you?"

"I don't think so," Buffy replied bluntly and quickly, dropping her head again.

"Really? Where're you from?"

"I'll get your pie," She replied, ignoring the question and walking away. With her back to the table, she missed the quizzical expression on Lily's face. She didn't, however, miss Dean watching the exchange.

Ignoring the two boys, Buffy walked past their table and into the kitchen. Stopping by a co-worker, she grabbed her attention "Can you cover my station for a while? I'm not feeling great."

She stepped out the back, and sat on the steps. Resting her elbows on her knees, she leant forward, putting her face in her hands. She was surprised to find them shaking. After the exposure to her Slayer instincts, and then the reminder of Angel, the girl recognising her had been too much. The adrenalin that pumped through her wasn't the helpful kind she was used to. Instead, it broiled up in her, making her sick and anxious.

So badly did she want to escape. She wanted to escape her life, her responsibilities, but mostly, she wanted to escape the things she'd done. She so badly wanted to regret everything, feel the proper things, but she couldn't. No matter how much she hurt from Angel's death, she felt even more guilt, because she knew to the depth of her bones that Angel needed to die. She hated that she couldn't regret his death more, that she couldn't feel the proper emotions that someone felt with the death of a loved one. In that one aspect she wanted to be normal, but she couldn't. Being the Slayer took even that away.

She couldn't escape it, not matter how much she tried.

Her inner musing were disturbed when she heard the crunch of feet approaching. Lifting her head, she saw Dean looking down at her in concern.

"Are you okay?" He asked gruffly, his voice deep and masculine.

She paused for a second before replying, "Why do you care?" Her voice was small and lost, with no accusation in it, just curiosity.

His brow crinkled, as if he was wondering too. "I don't know, but I do." He moved to sit next to her. There wasn't a lot of room on the stair case, so their shoulders and knees brushed lightly.

"That look you got in your eyes. That guilt ridden, down trodden look, I've seen it before. So many times before," he murmured, almost to himself, looking down at his hands. The way he spoke made Buffy think he was talking from personal experience, as if he saw it in someone he was close to, or even himself. "It doesn't help, tryin' to escape it. The feeling will grip your heart, and hold you hostage against yourself. It'll drag you down if you let it," he turned to look at her as he continued, "But I think you're stronger than that."

She laughed, mirthlessly, "You don't even know me," she croaked out, her eyes feeling hot from unshed tears. She turned to face him as well, looking him in the eyes, "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you got something weighing you down. I know you don't belong in a place like this," he nodded his head towards the diner, indicating his meaning. "And I know this darkness you're stuck in, it's not you. Anne, you're made for sunshine, not this gloomy hell hole."

He had almost had her convinced that she was better than this, but when he had uttered her assumed name, it all came crashing around her. This man didn't know her, and he certainly didn't understand.

With one last searching look in his eyes, as if she was looking for something to keep her there, she muttered a quick, "You don't know me," before getting up off the step, and turning to enter the diner.

Before she entered, she paused, turned to him slightly and muttered, "Thank you for trying. It was," she hesitated, "Nice." She left him outside.


A/N:

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