Title: Heroin Girl

Summary: Alternate Universe. Buffy is a heroin addict who is involved with her abusive dealer, Spike. Angel is a cop on the LAPD.

Rating: M for drug use, language, and sexual content

Pairings: Buffy/Spike, Buffy/Angel, Willow/Oz

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon and 20th Century Fox.

I was seventeen when I first saw him. He was twenty-three. It happened at The Bronze, the underage club that my best friend, Willow and I liked to hang out at. He was the lead singer in the band. They were called "The Dingoes Ate My Baby" and they were the only reason we were there. Willow was dating the electric guitarist. This was the first time that Willow had invited me to one of their shows. The boy who caught my eye had short, spiked, dark hair and dark eyes. He was well built, obviously worked out a lot. He was on stage when our eyes locked and I didn't know it at the time, but that was the moment that my life began. He continued to keep his gaze locked with mine and I felt like I was the only girl in the club. It was like every song he sang was meant specifically for me.

That night, I left The Bronze long before Willow. She stayed to wait for the band to pack up their gear and as much as I wanted to stay and have her introduce me, I had a curfew to make. My mom and I had just moved to Sunnydale and she was a little over protective of me.

Later, I found out from Willow that he was a student at UCLA. He was only in Sunnydale for spring break. He went back to LA a few days after the gig. I figured that was that last I would see of him and it was… for a while.

Not long after that night at The Bronze, I meet Spike and my memories the lead singer were long forgotten. His name was actually William, but no one ever called him that. Spike had bleached blonde hair and well defined muscles. He had eyes that felt like they were digging into you. His English accent was enough to make any girl instantly fall to her knees. He could have had any girl in the club, but he chose to approach me. He was gorgeous and completely wrong for me. He was from the other side of Sunnydale, the part that my mother had forbid me from going to. Spike had access to a large amount of money and treated me like a princess. It wasn't until I was too far over my head that I found where his money came from. Life with Spike was a never ending party and I couldn't get enough of it.

The night that I met Spike was the night that I had my first drink; it was a coke and rum, and many more to follow. I lost my virginity in the same night, although I don't have any recollection of the act itself, only the morning after and the splitting headache that came with it.

About a month later, I smoked marijuana for the first time. The high was amazing. By now, I was so in love that I would have jumped off a cliff if Spike asked me too. I felt like I was floating and when Spike and I made love, or at the time, what I thought was love making, my whole body responded. After that, I don't remember having sex with him when I wasn't high.

I became obsessed with getting high. I skipped school; I broke plans with my mother and my friends. I would do anything it took to get high with Spike. I stopped coming home at night and pretty much lived at his apartment, only leaving the bedroom to go to parties where I would get high and drunk all over again. I thought my life was amazing. I didn't have any responsibility. I was free and I wouldn't let anyone control me, except for Spike of course. It wasn't long before my mom kicked me out of the house, which, at the time, I didn't really mind. I wasn't ever home anyway. I was ecstatic to move in with my perfect bad boy boyfriend. After I moved in, I found out he was a dealer. He swore to me that he only sold pot, so it didn't really bother me much.

A few more months passed by and I got bored with the usual high. I wanted to feel more. When I asked Spike to get his hands on a more extreme drug, he didn't hesitate to comply. In fact, he didn't have to go any farther than his sock drawer to get some. That should have been my first sign that he was selling more than he had admitted to.

That night we went to a college rave with the ecstasy he provided. What I felt that night, I don't think I will ever be able to put into words. My whole world was on fire. I felt like I was in love with everybody in the room, although I'd never actually met the majority of them. For the first time in my life, I was completely happy.

Spike and I moved to Los Angeles. He hated the small town life in Sunnydale and by that time, I had lost all my friends and family anyway so nothing was holding me down. He promised me Hollywood parties, unlimited drugs, and a constant high. I pictured that we would have the celebrity lifestyle. We were going to be together for ever in our little fucked up fairytale.

We lived in a small place in North Hollywood. I'd never been there before the move and I'm imagined it too look like what I had seen in 90210 reruns. That didn't turn out to be the case. Our apartment building was constantly covered in graffiti and gangs made a frequent appearance on our street. Spike, however, enjoyed the location. He had a lot more customers in LA than he had in Sunnydale.

We celebrated our first night in LA with my first use of heroin. At first I was nervous as I had never injected a substance into my body before, but with a little coaxing from Spike, I shot the drug up into my arm. There hasn't been a day in my life since that I wish I could take that moment back, but I guess if I'd never tried it, our paths wouldn't have crossed. As soon as the warming and relaxing feeling of my newest high wore off, I was starving for more. In one simple shot, I'd gone from having some control over my life to absolutely none. I would do anything to get my hands on the drug.

Our happily ever after, drug addicted, story didn't last and I should have figured it wouldn't have. Spike started sleeping around, or at least he stopped hiding the fact that he was cheating from me. He would leave for weeks at a time, not leaving me with any food or money. It was during these disappearances that I would trade blow jobs and other sexual favors for drugs, or money that I would spend on drugs. When he was home, our frequent fights consisted of screaming matches, throwing furniture, and him beating the shit out of me, but by this time, I was in too deep to leave. I was a high school drop out with no job and a drug addiction. I comforted myself on the bathroom floor with my heroin. The high was getting harder to get and I had to shoot up more and more heroine to feel anything at all. I became completely numb and when I was without it, I began to experience withdrawals. My body needed the drug as much as it needed oxygen.

One night, we were at a party in Beverly Hills. I didn't know anyone who lived in that part of town, but Spike had some buyers there. One of them asked Spike to attend his house party and bring some of his best stuff. The second we arrived, I felt out of place. My torn up jeans and t-shirt didn't exactly fit in with the hundred dollar outfits the girls at this party wore. No one bothered to talk to me; all I got were stares and whispers. I was well aware of my appearance. In the past months, I had gone from homecoming queen to street girl. My hair was stringy and I was in desperate need of a shower. If Spike had stayed with me and escorted me around, I'm sure I would have been treated differently. People respected Spike. As soon as we walked in the door, Spike had left me alone while he went in search of his buyer. About an hour later, I found him making out with a skinny brunette who was straddling him on the couch. His hand was up her dress and buried in her crotch. I quickly found an empty bathroom. I locked the door and settled in with my little bag of powder.

When the LAPD raided the party, I was half conscious and too far gone to care. Most of my memories of that night are surreal and fuzzy, but this part, I will never forget.

"Open up," a man yelled, banging on the door.

I didn't move. I couldn't even if I willed myself too. I remained unmoved, curled on a ball, on the cold tile flooring.

He bust the door open, breaking the lock in the process and two police officers entered the bathroom.

I didn't bother to look at them. My mind set in panic mode. I started to yell for Spike but the words came out muffled and slurred.

"She's pretty out of it," said one of the officers.

The other officer knelt down next to me. "Miss, can you understand me?" he asked. Despite my state, his words were soft and gentle.

I nodded my head weakly.

"What are you using?"

My mouth was dry and when I opened it to speak, the words wouldn't come out.

He pointed to the needle that I'd left on the floor. "Is that yours?"

I nodded.

"I think we better take her into the station," he said to the other officer and he lifted me into his arms.

My mind was telling me to run, but my body couldn't move. I knew what the consequences of my actions would be, but I didn't care. My muscles relaxed into the warmth of his body. It wasn't until he placed me into the back seat of his police car that I finally looked at his face. With one glance at his perfect features, that night at The Bronze rushed back to me. It was him. He was the lead singer.

Author's Note: Please let me know what you think. Also, I've never done any drugs, so if I got any of the details wrong, please let me know.