Title: Faceless

TV Show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Author: Beloved Slayer

Rating: T

Summary: A year before moving to Sunnydale, an unknown man haunts Buffy's dreams, one who may help her in dealing with her slaying duty and the aftermath of a messy divorce.

Author's Notes: This is slightly inspired by a few dreams I've had over the years, none of which related to the show. The story line takes place the year Buffy was still residing in Los Angeles and discovering her true calling as the Slayer. This was originally planned to be written as a one-shot, but I might add one more chapter. Feedback is appreciated. Enjoy!

Chapter One

Los Angeles, California

Without consideration, she wipes the last traces of blood on the hem of her jeans, her fingers amassed with dirt, copper, and linoleum.

Her parents were not going to be pleased to know that their only daughter had spent yet another night out without their permission; slaying the vampires and demons that had become all too familiar in a life that was spiraling out of control.

Only six months had been spent since she unwillingly became the Chosen One, and to this night, it continued to derail the plans she had made concerning the most important dance in her young life: the prom. She sighs wistfully, frustratingly aware that the night could had been spent shopping for the perfect dress and heels to match the Victorian cameo necklace that had been given to her long ago.

Instead, she had wasted most of the evening on a daunting vampire hunt. A hunt that had come close to smothering her life.

Shaking the thought away, she edges towards the front door, almost on the verge of tears.

I'm standing on the porch, and I can hear them yelling at each other again. It's never gonna stop, is it? I don't need this. Not now. Not after tonight, dammit.

She orders herself to reach for the cool brass knob, swerving it to the right as she quietly tiptoed her way inside, her heart thudding on the worry of being caught.

Time to face the music. Just breathe and everything should be okay. It has to be.

"Anyone home? Mom? Dad?" she feigned innocence, surveying the outskirts of the empty living room, her breathing coming to a standpoint as she bolted the locks to the door, her back pressing against the oak paneling.

"Buffy, where have you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago," came the sharp voice of her mother Joyce, as she stood perched against the hall frame, her expression dark.

"I went to see Tyler; that's all, Mom. There's nothing to worry about, so just chill."

"Just chill? I thought we told you to stay away from that boy. He's nothing but trouble. I thought we made ourselves clear," her mother scolded. It was not a moment later when her father, Hank, entered the threshold, his eyebrows knitting together in distress.

This is just great. Two parental figures coming to see if there's anything wrong. If only they really knew what I was up to, Buffy's mind muted as her father brought his gaze upon her, studying the dried stains that matted her legs and coat.

"Buffy, what's going on?" he inquired. "How did you get those bloodstains? Did you get yourself into another fight? Answer me young lady."

She slumped her shoulders in a tired motion, her eyes averting theirs. "Nothing you would understand. Don't you have anything else better to do? Like get into another argument?" she snapped without precision, wedging between them as she made her way towards the stairs, both parents looking on, appalled.

She stood before her room with low spirits, that same weariness from earlier in the night marring her expression. As soon as she stepped foot inside the perimeter, the tears began to spring forth. Without considering a change in clothing, she plopped onto the unmade bed, the scents of fresh lavender and vanilla enveloping her senses.

"No new dress, no new shoes, stupid bloodstains, parents arguing, dusting vamps all night while almost getting killed; this was so not what I had asked for," she mewed into the pillow, her chest heaving. Moments later, she sniffled, exhaustion pulling her into its arms as she succumbed into deep unconsciousness, leaving the waking world and its stresses behind.

She felt a hand tapping gently against her shoulder, causing her to stir in her sleep. "Wake up," a gentle male voice said. She knew at once who the voice belonged to.

"Go away. I don't need you," she bristled, cringing into the duvet covers.

"Yes, you do. And I'm not going anywhere. Even if it takes forever, I'll be here."

"You never listen, do you? Like I said, I don't need you. Or anyone else for that matter," she quivered, but her voice remained firm. Throughout the years of him haunting her dreams, she had never once seen his face.

And it terrified her to the bone. He was still unknown to her, yet the intimacy from him had always lingered.

"I know you're scared," he ignored her warning. "I know you didn't ask for your life to dramatically change like this."

"You still don't know everything. How could you understand what I'm going through when you can't?" she snarled.

"Because I'm a part of you. Always been since the day you were brought to this world. I've always been there, even if you didn't know it." He saunters across the bed, cautiously taking her hand into his. She didn't move to pull herself away from his warm touch, which was strangely comforting in spite of her wanting him to leave.

She basks in silence before opening her mouth to speak. "I'm scared. My parents are still fighting; it's getting worse, and I can't help but feel like it's my fault. I'm just getting used to being the Slayer, and tonight, I almost…"

She doesn't face him, because she knew it was useless. His face would always remain in shadow.

"I know," his voice was soothing but slightly on edge, his throat tightening at the realization that he had come close to losing her. For what reason, he couldn't explain.

"This is only the beginning. You know that right?"

"I…I know," she whispered. Her hand supporting his, she rises from the bed, leaning her body gently against his shadowed one, absorbing in the comfort and safety that he provided.

"I'm sorry," she continued, her eyes closed.

"Don't be," he rebuffed, circling her waist with his arm. "I'm here when you need me. I wouldn't be here if I didn't have faith in you. You'll get through this. You have to. He's coming; you have to be prepared. You have to be ready for what you have to face."

A tear falls from a corner of her eye. "I know. I'll find a way."

Not another word was spoken between them after that moment.

And he takes her further into his arms, both aware that the hardships were not yet over.

To be continued…