The streets of Sunnydale were empty and silent. At least that was the way it appeared as Buffy Summers looked out from the second story window of her brand new bedroom. Okay, so it wasn't much of a view, and it was certainly nothing like the view from her bedroom window in LA. She could see a graveyard—or, wait, four graveyards--and the docks near the edge of town. She could also just barely see the edge of Sunnydale High, her soon to be brand new school.
"Buffy," turning around, there was her mother, holding a box of something. Walking over she effortlessly lifted it out of her hands. "Thanks." As Buffy dropped it down on the floor near her other unpacked boxes, she noticed her Mom just staring at her.
"What?"
Joyce Summers smiled at her sixteen year old daughter. "Oh, nothing. It's just... after everything that happened," she ran her fingers through Buffy's dark blond hair. "I just feel really good about this place. About Sunnydale. We can just put LA behind us, we can have a life here." She paused once, and Buffy knew she was remembering, "A normal life."
"Normal," Buffy feigned a smile. "Normal sounds nice."
"You know," Joyce pointed towards the many unpacked boxes sitting in the corner of the bedroom. "You should probably start unpacking things, find something to wear." Buffy nodded as her mother pulled open her bedroom door, stepping out. Down the hall, Buffy could hear her little sister jumping on her brand new bed while listening to the Spice Girls a little too loudly. "Dawn! Get off of there this instant. If you break that bed—" Buffy heard her Mom called before she closed the door behind her.
Walking over to her unpacked boxes, a sudden panic washed over her. This was a new place, with new people. She wanted to fit in here, maybe even pick up where she had left off at Hemery. She had been popular; Fiesta Queen, and a cheerleader. If things were going to be normal again, she wanted to be that popular girl again. Carefree and fun. So what the hell was she going to wear? Pulling back the lid of the first box, there were a couple shirts, and skirts. A dress or two. Nothing that was perfect enough for her first day.
Moving onto the second box, pulling back the flaps, she was expecting to find her shoe collection. Instead there were wooden stakes. A lot of wooden stakes. And vials of holy water. There were a couple small axes, her collection of crosses. Taking in a deep breath, she reached down into the box, pulling out one of the stakes, running her fingers over it. All her memories—the bad ones—came rushing back to her: nights in the cemetery; fighting for her life; vampires. Those were the things that she was trying to escape, the reason her life in LA had come to a screeching halt. Rushing over to her chest, she pulled it open, pulling out the top shelf. Pulling the box over, she stuffed everything down under, pushing the bad memories away. Placing her shelf over top, closing the lid of the chest, Buffy grabbed the handle of her chest and pulled it towards her new closet, pushing it deep in the back. That part of her life was over. Forever. She wasn't going back there, she wasn't being that girl again.
Pulling open her third box, she pulled out some t-shirts, some sweaters, some skirts.
Find something to wear, that was all she needed to do. Find something to wear.
