Tortured by Lost

Chapter One

Disclaimer: They're not mine... obviously. haha

Summary: Instead of opening the art gallery in Sunnydale, Joyce took a position across country.

A/N: This story has been rewritten to be in first person POV. And now it's actually got a plot, yay! Oh, and special thanks to my betas, Kina, Valyssia, and Whedonist.

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I let out an audible sigh and stare down at the ugly cover of the text book nestled securely in my arms. What the hell made me sign up to take psychology again? And in the fall semester? This is gonna be one helluva class load. Add in Art, European History, and Film Appreciation, I'm gonna be one busy girl...

I drop the book into my plastic handheld shopping basket and walk as inconspicuously towards the check out line as possible. The last thing I wanna do is draw attention to myself. It's bad enough that this place has that pull. That tug of power radiating out from—well, I'm not sure where, but I can feel it throughout the whole town, almost like a dense smog.

A barely audible hiss escapes my lips as I come to a sudden halt at the end of a way too long line. I'm never gonna get out of here. Not everyone can be as smart as I am and wait until the first day of classes to buy their books, right? And yet, here we all are. Me and what looks like thirty other people. Joy.

I scan the crowd in front of me. I'd call it a line, but it's lacking in the 'single file' department. It's just a big cluster-fuck of people. The cute redhead in front of me looks like she's holding the same psychology book as I've got resting in my basket. Huh, cool.

This place is okay, I guess. Really all I wanna do is go back to New York. It's big, and cold, and easy to get lost in. The only problem is that people there know me. So, here I am. Podunk California.

Really, I missed good ole sunny So-Cal the moment we moved. But after a while, I adjusted. That's what happens.

The line moves forward a short step and I yank myself back to reality.

There's light streaming in through the blind-less windows above. It takes all of my effort not to slip my sunglasses down from their perch on the top of my head. As much as I love the sun, it really doesn't love me back.

The redhead in front of me turns around and smiles. Her voice sounds almost too perky as she asks, "Oh, you're taking psych one-oh-one, too? I heard that Professor Walsh is great. She's supposed to be world renowned."

Both of my eyebrows lift. World renouned huh? Is that 'nouned' like... proper subject and should be involved in a sentence? And if so how you can get 're' nouned? Do you become double subjecty? Or is it the other kind of 'nowned'? I bet it's the second one.

I take a moment to study the girl's face. She's definitely a hottie. Beautiful pixie haircut that frames her face, dark green eyes, and just a hint of a blush in her cheeks as she says, "I'm Willow, by the way."

She holds her hand out and I do my best to smile back. It's been a while since I've actually smiled at someone, here's hoping I don't look like a china doll with a broken face. I reach out and grab the offered hand. I nod for punctuation. "Buffy."

She exclaims, "Oh, cold hands." And quickly drops the handshake.

I do my best to offer what I hope is a placating expression. "Heh, you know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart."

Or in my case: cold hands, dead heart.

This time I can't stop the snicker that bubbles up, and she laughs right along with me. Hmm, possibly an ally against this double subjecty teacher?

She looks way more bookworm-ish than I am. It's always good to know people who know what the hell is going on in class.

After a couple minutes of small talk, the line finally puts us next to the cash register. Willow pays and wanders off without as much as a glance back. Maybe I was wrong about the ally theory? I shake off the slight disappointment at the thought and step up to the counter.

I flip open my wallet and quickly slide enough cash to cover the books across the counter to the overly interested looking clerk.

He's got moppy brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and dark blue eyes. It takes a little bit of effort on my part to not roll my eyes when he flashes what I think is supposed to be a charming smile my way.

Thanks buddy, but you're so not my type. Instead of the rude eye rolling, I wait patiently as he hands me back the change. "Have a nice day." There's that smile again.

I nod curtly and reply, "Thanks, you too..." A quick glance down reveals his name tag and I read it off trivially, "Brock." Brock. What kind of a name is that? My eyebrows scrunch up as I consider what kind of parents would feel the need to stick a kid with a name like that. And really, what kind of a middle name would go good with it?

The change gets dropped unceremoniously into my pocket as I walk out the door. Brock. Sounds like a cartoon.

I shrug and turn the corner, only to run straight into Willow. See, Willow's the kind of name I can get behind. It's really just... well, pretty. Period. And girls should have pretty names. Especially ones who look like her.

Hopefully, her parents didn't stick her with a doozy of a middle name. I crack that 'getting used to being used' smile again. "Willow. Hey."

She waits for me to continue walking before she falls into step with me. "Hey yourself." A few moments of awkward silences pass. "So, where exactly are you from? 'Cause I know it's not here. I would recognize you if you were from Sunnydale."

I nod a little. Exactly how much does she need to know? "LA originally. Recently? New York." Straight and to the point. That's me. Well, not so much with the straight, but I do my best to be simple. Most of the time.

Surprise echoes in her voice as she asks, "Wow, two big cities. Why would you ever come to a town like Sunnydale?"

I shrug again. "Why not?"

We walk slowly down the flights of steps, and towards a door to the outside world. I step into the sun and try not to smile too much. Even if Sunnydale is too bright, and too alive, this is me getting over it. It feels good.

It almost makes me feel alive.

And that's something I haven't felt in well...

There's a bench sitting outside near the exit, and we sit down facing each other with a large gap between us. Let's see if I can still do the 'social' thing.

She starts firing off questions about The Met, NYU, and cultural differences between the two coasts at such rapid pace that if I needed to breathe, it'd be a problem.

I realize pretty quickly that I was right. She's definitely a book nerd. But in a very cute kind of way. I'm not sure if that's disturbing or not. Stella was a book nerd, but not the kind that read them; she was the kind that wrote them.

A boy plops down next to her half way through my explanation of my major in the way that only a rag doll or a teenager can. He wraps an arm protectively around the petite woman and places a kiss on her cheek. "Willow, why don't you introduce me to your new friend?" I scoot away from the human rag doll.

"Oops, I'm sorry. Xander, this is, Buffy, Buffy, this is, Xander, my boyfriend."

I nod at the boy currently sitting next to me, and do my best to not let my expression falter at the last two words of the sentence. 'my' and 'boyfriend'.

It's not like I know this girl to be staking a claim over her anyway. I shrug off my annoyance nearly as quickly as it flared up and shake his hand like a good little human. "Oh, cool, nice to meet you."

Willow proudly beams. "Buffy's an art major!"

And our conversation's back on track. Disregarding the dopeish boy sitting between us, I focus all of my attention on Willow and lean forward so I can see around him. "I'm really just hoping to gain some new perspective in class, that's all..."

Xander, the annoyance, doesn't seem all that content to sit and listen to 'our' conversation. So it's turned into a 'their' conversation.

I puff some air up and blow my bangs out of my face as I lean back against the bench. That's it. Continue on with the conversation. Nope, I'm not here. Pfffft. Couples. I wonder if we were like that. I let out a disheartened sigh.

Willow keeps sending me glances during their conversation, little worried looks; almost like she wants to try and pull me in to their deep discussion of the complexities of Dungeons and Dragons characters. I do my best not to glare at her. There's not a snowball's chance in hell I'm joining that convo.

I'm tempted to pull out a cigarette just so they'll go away. Sad really. I like Willow. But Xander? Sheesh, can you put on any more eau de nerd?

While I sit, contemplating the merit of smoking my new friend away, their conversation changes course. I see Xander glance at his watch and hear him mutter something about a class. He goes to school here? I wave a nonchalant goodbye to the boy.

Hmm, just one more reason on my long list of why NYU is—should've been and would've been—the school for me. In the negative column for my original school of choice: people. Especially Willow.

She's already been added to the negative column. Fuck. Glad I enrolled. Guess I kinda gotta stay here now. Even if she is straight.

And I'm playing the 'social' card again. "How long have you guys been together?" Please let it not be long. I'm crossin' my fingers, and toes, and if I could, without her giving me a funny look, I'd do my eyes too.

"Maybe two months? Not long." She doesn't sound all that certain about two months. It really isn't that long, but it's a short enough time so that you always know how long its been. It could be my inner cheerleader ringing through, but I'm sensing uncertainty of conviction. For shame! "What about you, have you got a boyfriend back home?"

Boyfriend? Ha. That's a laugh. But I can play along. "Me? Oh...no, I'm boyfriend-less." And letting the sarcasm drip just one tiny little poisonous drop, "Sucks, huh?"

The crestfallen look on her face tells me that she just took that question seriously. So, maybe I'll try to be less sarcastic this time. "I was dating someone, but we ended it."

I can feel the demon inside of me roll its eyes at the choice of phrase. It takes a lot of work to suppress its sarcastic comments, and for some reason it doesn't always work. It's cussing on the other hand? For some reason that always manages to slip through.

"Oh, I'm sorry, how long were you together?"

Hmm, me and Stella. Before I killed her. Uh... "About a year and a half."

"Wow, that's a long time." Not nearly long enough. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I'm concentrating so hard on them not letting them leak out, I nearly miss her next question.

"What's his name?"

And we're not playing the straight card anymore. "Estelle was her name. But I always called her Stella. She just never really seemed as stuck up as an 'Estelle' should be, ya know?"

"Oh, so you're...?" Willow trails off.

Bing! Bing! Bing! We have a winner ladies and gents. I can fill in the blank for her, I'm nice enough. "Gay?" Off her nod I reply, "Yup. That's me. Gay Buffy."

Ironically enough, I remember when being gay was the weirdest thing about me. But that only lasted until I was fifteen. Then I got shiny new names that qualified me as weird.

That blush creeps back into her cheeks. "Well, that's cool. My best friend and her girlfriend are both gay. Well, I guess that kind of goes without saying, but, you know what I mean?"

Wow, she has gay friends. Color me shocked. Well really, we are in California, I should've expected some other gay people. Even in Podunk I guess.

I nod at her in answer, and she stands straight up.

"In fact, there they are. Hey Faith, Tara! Come here!" she yells. I doubt they're really far enough away to warrant fuss, but I keep my wince to myself.

She points to a brunette and a blonde who have changed direction and are now walking towards us. Hmm, maybe they won't be nearly as bad as Xander.

As they get close, that tug of power gets stronger and stronger. Is this the source of the dense smog in SunnyD? No, it can't be. Whatever they are though, they're powerful. Both of them. This is definitely not a good.

I need to book. Soon. "Faith, Tara this is Buffy... uhm, I'm sorry. What was your last name?" Well, at least she tried to introduce me. I guess I'll go with my real last name since that's what I'm registered under. Really gotta work on changing it legally. That's gonna be a pain in the ass.

"Summers."

A look of awe passes over the blonde's face. "Summers as in... the artist?"

I nod curtly. "Yup that's me, in the flesh." Dead, but hey, at least I've still got flesh. That's definitely goin' in my plus column.

The aura surrounding both of them is nearly overwhelming. I need to get out of here, now.

The blond walks up to me, and as she does the sense of her sets off what I used to call my 'spidey sense'. Only now, instead of working on bad guys? It works on the good ones.

Dammit.

Mental Note: use fake last name from now on. People recognizing me could lead to badness.

She shakes my hand quickly before I can pull away. "Wow, it's so cool to meet you. I thought you were supposed to be going to school in New York?" I'm out of here. Trying to be social is too much work. Period. Not to mention the whole 'way too much power' radiating off of these two.

"Yeah, yeah I was. But hey, I gotta book. It was uh, nice meeting you guys." I spare a glance at Willow.

"See ya."

And I'm off. Away from them. And the redhead.