Title: Change of Heart (#1 in Untitled Series)
Author: Pixie
Disclaimer: Do I *really* need to do this again?
Ratings: PG?
Distribution: You want it? Go ahead, ask first than I'll let you have it.
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Author's Note: AU fic! Buffy comes from a very different past than she is
from the show.
AN2: #1 in Untitled Series
Spoilers: None, this is an AU fic.
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Summary: Buffy Summers has led a troubling childhood and she must conquer
her fears, but when her handsome boss enters her world, she feels
threatened that he might destroy her fragile life that she had built for
herself. Will she ever allow her walls down and allow someone to teach her
the powers of love?
****************
Part 1
Sunshine reflected off of her rosy skin, sending shivers throught her body. The cool breeze of the massive blue ocean cooling her off as the deadly rays of the sun touched her skin. Tingles spreaded through her as she shivered from the combination.
It were days like these that warmed her heart and soul. She loved spending her free time soaking up the sun's rays as she caught up with some "alone" time for her to reflect about her busy life.
A life that she wished held something more than just her work.
No matter how successful she was in her business, she still felt something missing. It could be a result of the childhood life that she had.
Her life had never been easy for her, ever since she had been born there were problems for her to face. And, when things got rough, she wished there had been someone she could share her feelings with.
For years she had been lonely, spending her entire life by herself. Even when she had her abusive parents, swearing and abusing her, she had always been lonely.
Possibly the result of a messed up childhood life that she so desperately wanted to erase.
Her father had always been drunk. Everynight, he would come home, alcohol on his breath, face red as a beet, and the menacing look on his face from losing too much money gambling.
Everynight would be the same. He would come home, drunk and mad, and hit her until she wished for death, but it helped to relieve his anger.
Everynight, she would go to sleep, knowing that no one loved her, that she was only a tool to be used to vent out frustration.
And everynight, she would cry herself to sleep, wishing and praying for death to embrace her.
But she never cried loud enough for anyone to hear. Her cries were never fully released from her still torn body.
Until this day, her pent up frustrations and anger were still bottled within her.
She didn't trust anyone. Not anymore. Her life had been pretty messed up, but her parents had taught her to hate and feel the pain. To not cry out even when you were bleeding to death.
It was something that she learned from her uncaring family, but how she wished that they had at least showed that they wanted her to be their child. That she wasn't just some useless thing that had been a waste of time to conceive and carry to birth.
That she was loved. That someone cared about her.
But no one did. No one cared about her, and that was fine with her.
She didn't need friends, she never had friends. She never had someone to cuddle with and talk with and share her feelings with.
No matter how much a huge part of her didn't want any of these, the other part wished for companionship.
She wanted someone to teach her how to feel again. Because she stopped feeling a very long time ago.
She wanted to know how being loved and cared about felt like. Did it feel like heaven? Would it have helped her from her depression that she was constantly in? Would she ever find anyone who cared about her?
The people she worked with might have cared, if she hadn't scared them off.
She didn't want to feel, she didn't know *how* to feel.
And she was afraid that if she did, if she felt something more than hatred for herself, something by the name of love and friendship, she would die.
She would die because she wouldn't be able to handle the emotions.
For years, one emotion ran through her veins. And that was to hate. It was to hate herself, hate her parents, hate the world, hate the very existence of people, hatred ran deep within her. So deep that there was no way for her to find a way to get rid of the hatred.
Hatred that her parents themselves caused.
When she was a child, she always wore long shirts and pants to cover up the bruises on her body.
It helped for a while, but then she began to have bruises on her face, the size of a huge palm.
She grew her hair out long enough to cover her face. She never cut it at all.
She didn't care what others thought. She didn't care if the students were spreading rumors about her.
She didn't *care.* That had been her problem.
And it had been her problem up till now.
Maybe now, when the sun shone on her golden hair and tanned skin, she was finally beginning to feel.
Part 1
Sunshine reflected off of her rosy skin, sending shivers throught her body. The cool breeze of the massive blue ocean cooling her off as the deadly rays of the sun touched her skin. Tingles spreaded through her as she shivered from the combination.
It were days like these that warmed her heart and soul. She loved spending her free time soaking up the sun's rays as she caught up with some "alone" time for her to reflect about her busy life.
A life that she wished held something more than just her work.
No matter how successful she was in her business, she still felt something missing. It could be a result of the childhood life that she had.
Her life had never been easy for her, ever since she had been born there were problems for her to face. And, when things got rough, she wished there had been someone she could share her feelings with.
For years she had been lonely, spending her entire life by herself. Even when she had her abusive parents, swearing and abusing her, she had always been lonely.
Possibly the result of a messed up childhood life that she so desperately wanted to erase.
Her father had always been drunk. Everynight, he would come home, alcohol on his breath, face red as a beet, and the menacing look on his face from losing too much money gambling.
Everynight would be the same. He would come home, drunk and mad, and hit her until she wished for death, but it helped to relieve his anger.
Everynight, she would go to sleep, knowing that no one loved her, that she was only a tool to be used to vent out frustration.
And everynight, she would cry herself to sleep, wishing and praying for death to embrace her.
But she never cried loud enough for anyone to hear. Her cries were never fully released from her still torn body.
Until this day, her pent up frustrations and anger were still bottled within her.
She didn't trust anyone. Not anymore. Her life had been pretty messed up, but her parents had taught her to hate and feel the pain. To not cry out even when you were bleeding to death.
It was something that she learned from her uncaring family, but how she wished that they had at least showed that they wanted her to be their child. That she wasn't just some useless thing that had been a waste of time to conceive and carry to birth.
That she was loved. That someone cared about her.
But no one did. No one cared about her, and that was fine with her.
She didn't need friends, she never had friends. She never had someone to cuddle with and talk with and share her feelings with.
No matter how much a huge part of her didn't want any of these, the other part wished for companionship.
She wanted someone to teach her how to feel again. Because she stopped feeling a very long time ago.
She wanted to know how being loved and cared about felt like. Did it feel like heaven? Would it have helped her from her depression that she was constantly in? Would she ever find anyone who cared about her?
The people she worked with might have cared, if she hadn't scared them off.
She didn't want to feel, she didn't know *how* to feel.
And she was afraid that if she did, if she felt something more than hatred for herself, something by the name of love and friendship, she would die.
She would die because she wouldn't be able to handle the emotions.
For years, one emotion ran through her veins. And that was to hate. It was to hate herself, hate her parents, hate the world, hate the very existence of people, hatred ran deep within her. So deep that there was no way for her to find a way to get rid of the hatred.
Hatred that her parents themselves caused.
When she was a child, she always wore long shirts and pants to cover up the bruises on her body.
It helped for a while, but then she began to have bruises on her face, the size of a huge palm.
She grew her hair out long enough to cover her face. She never cut it at all.
She didn't care what others thought. She didn't care if the students were spreading rumors about her.
She didn't *care.* That had been her problem.
And it had been her problem up till now.
Maybe now, when the sun shone on her golden hair and tanned skin, she was finally beginning to feel.