Summary: A young woman finds herself in a world she never expected or wanted to be in.

Rating: M. For violence, language and sexual situations.

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the show, characters or actors.

Twisted Dreams

Chapter One: Strangers Meet

It was cold. She was taking a short cut through the alley when she heard a noise behind her. Turning quickly, she saw no one. She scanned the area before again moving, hunching her shoulders into her jacket, which was zipped to her chin. The air from her mouth was making steam appear and she wondered when it had become fall. It seemed like yesterday that it was warm and she was laying in the sun soaking up the rays of the sunshine on her skin.

Another noise behind her again and this time she didn't bother to look – instincts told her to start running – her heels hindering her progress. Damn it! She thought as her ankle twisted and she felt pain shoot up her leg. Not letting that stop her, she continued to run, her breaths coming hard and fast now. She could hear the footfalls coming closer, the harsh breathing of someone – something – gaining on her.

She was only a few blocks from where she was staying, could she make it? Her legs pumped with the exertion and her lungs burned. She was in good shape, but running in high heels wasn't part of her workout regimen. Her ankle throbbed as she ran, but she didn't dare slow down. She should have known better than to walk home by herself this late, in this neighborhood. Serves me right, she thought sardonically as she turned the corner and the apartment building came into view. Almost there, almost there, she was thinking as she felt something jump on her back and bring her down hard on the cement, her knees scraping painfully, her hands jutting out to break her fall. She landed with an "oomph!" as her chest hit the ground. She was too stunned to scream, and the weight on her body was substantial, making it hard to breathe.

She felt a pair of hands clutching her and when she felt she could, she opened her mouth to yell out. "Help!" she cried loudly, hoping against hope that someone out there would care enough to see what was happening. In this neighborhood, there was an unwritten law that stated that if it didn't have anything to do with you, you saw nothing, heard nothing, and didn't know nothing. No one around here wanted to deal with the cops. Either they were wanted themselves, or didn't want to be seen as a "rat".

The hands gripped her skin harder before flipping her over onto her back. She looked up to find a man straddling her. A greasy-looking man, wearing a flannel shirt, dirty jeans and a trucker hat. Probably a drifter, she thought idly as her mind swam trying to find a way out of this. "What do you want?" she asked him shakily, trying to sound calm. In a faraway life, she remembered studying that one of the ways to get out of an assault was to talk to the perp, try to draw them out and make yourself more human by telling them about your life – family, friends, whatever. "I have money, you can take it all. Just please, don't hurt me. I've got kids." This was a lie, but she was willing to say anything to come out of this alive.

He said nothing, just stared at her, breathing heavily. She scanned her eyes over him and realized that he didn't look like the type to run long distances, so this was probably hard on his body. He smiled and she had to look away from his dirty teeth, her stomach flipping at the thought of his mouth on her. As if sensing her thoughts, he leaned over her and got into her face. "You shouldn't be out here all by yourself, missy," he breathed, making her want to gag. "There's a lot of bad people in the world."

She continued to look away until he grabbed her chin roughly and dragged her head toward him. "You listenin' bitch?" he spat at her.

"Yes," she said shakily. "Look, my family is waiting for me, and if I don't get home soon, they'll call the cops."

He laughed. "You think the cops are gonna care about someone like you? You must think I'm stupid. I know what you are."

She blinked and tried to keep the tears from leaking out of her eyes. She always knew there was a possibility of something like this happening. Been warned of it repeatedly. But she was stubborn and desperate and wanted to do things her own way. How did I get here? She thought before being stunned by his lips over hers. His tongue forced its way into her mouth and she cried out, but the sound was muffled by his lips. He was laying fully on her now, and she could feel his erection grinding into her hip. Her back was pressed against the cement and she could feel every little pebble and stone digging into her skin.

His hand made its way under her jacket and squeezed her breast – hard. "Help!" she screamed as soon as his mouth was off hers. This earned her a slap across the face, the force of which made her head turn violently to the left.

"Shut up, whore!" he said hatefully, his eyes burning into hers. Before this, she thought she would be prepared if someone ever tried to attack her, but all the self-defense that she thought she knew went out the window as she felt the man's hands under her skirt tugging at her panties. She heard the sound of his zipper being pulled down and struggled, trying to maneuver her way out from under him. This only made him madder and he slapped her again, this time adding a hand around her neck, effectively cutting off her oxygen. "Stop struggling and I'll make this as painless as possible. Keep it up and you won't live to see your kids again," he said, his voice dead.

The flatness of his voice stilled her. She stopped struggling and gave herself up to it, hoping that it would be over quick, and he would decide to let her live.

Just when the man was about to penetrate her, a shout was heard at the other end of the alley. "Hey! What are you doing? Get the hell off her!"

The man stopped what he was doing and lifted himself off her, turning around to confront the voice. "Got lost, asshole. This is none of your business," he said threateningly.

She sat up and grabbed her underwear, which had been tossed to the side, sliding them back up her legs. Looking around her assailant, she saw who the voice belonged to: a young man, probably around her age, although it was hard to tell in the limited light of the alley. Her rescuer walked closer and she got a better look at him. She guessed his height at 5'9" or 5'10" and had brownish/red hair. He was wearing a leather jacket, which was open to reveal a brown Henley. He also wore jeans and boots, which looked scuffed and worn.

He met her glance briefly before returning it to the greasy trucker. However, his words were directed at her. "Is there a problem, miss?"

She scrambled to her feet and adjusted her clothes, knowing she looked a mess. He continued to bore holes in her attacker with his eyes, and she thanked God for bringing him here. "Um, yes. I was walking home, and he . . ."

"Now, honey," her attacked interrupted, "We shouldn't be baring all our dirty laundry to this stranger." He turned back to the young man. "This is nothing but a domestic squabble between me and my old lady. Nothing that hasn't happened before, right babe?" he asked, his eyes deadly.

She ran her eyes down his arm, which was now hidden under the tail of his shirt, looking like he was getting ready to pull out a weapon. She weighed her chances of getting out of this without being harmed further. If it was a knife, she could probably get away relatively unscathed with the help of the young man. If it was a gun, well then her and her savior were both screwed.

She tried to telegraph her feelings to the young man with her eyes, but she didn't know if he was getting the message. His expression didn't change as he continued to stare down the trucker, who was getting more and more agitated. At the continued silence, he said testily, "Look, I know you're trying to be a good citizen and all, but it's really nothing more than a little spat, so if you could just mind your own business and be on your way, I'd be mighty grateful . . ."

Before he could finish the sentence, the young man moved with lightning speed and punched the trucker in the gut and face, sending him flying across the cement. Not content with that, he stood over him and kicked him repeatedly in the back and legs, making her assailant cry out in pain. "Fuck! Stop it! Stop!"

The young man continued his assault, and she watched as his face transformed into a mask of hate as he continued to pummel the trucker. Dropping to straddle him, her rescuer starting punching him, the blows loud in the otherwise silent alley. She could hear the young man's grunts as his fist hit the trucker over and over again, and while she was glad that her attacker was getting his, another feeling began to overtake her as she watched the young man beat the older man violently. Stepping forward she surprised herself by saying, "Stop, please. You'll kill him."

This seemed to snap the younger man out of his haze and his fists stilled over the other man. He breathed heavily and examined his work. Her attacker looked unconscious and she hoped that he wasn't already dead. She didn't want to touch him to find out, though.

The young man slowly got off the trucker and turned, staring wordlessly at her. She stared back, unable to speak. Because even though she was glad he was here earlier, now she was starting to feel frightened again, because who knows?, he could be a psycho killer all on his own. She jumped when she heard his voice say, "Are you OK? Do you need an ambulance or something?"

She mentally went through her injuries, which she thought was nothing more than a bruised face from where her attacker had repeatedly slapped her and a couple of scuffed knees and hands. She shook her head silently, her arms coming up to hug herself. Seeing this, he moved slowly toward her. When she instinctively moved back, he put his hands up. "Hey, I know you're scared shitless right now. I was just going to offer you my coat. What you're wearing looks pretty thin," he said calmly.

She looked down at body as if seeing it for the first time. Her coat was pretty thin, along with the rest of the outfit she was wearing. She watched as he removed his leather jacket and held it out to her, being careful not to seem threatening. She stood there unmoving for a moment before slowly coming forward and taking it. She allowed a small smile before gratefully slipping it on, noting the warmth on the inside from his body. It was quite big on her, and she noticed that it had a scent to it, probably his cologne.

A noise from the ground startled them both and they turned to see her assailant slowly coming to. The young man looked at her before speaking. "We need to get out of here before he wakes up. I don't want any more trouble," he paused before adding, "If you're sure you don't need an ambulance or anything, how about I walk you home, or better yet, why don't you let me buy you a cup of coffee or something? You know, to warm up?" he asked, his eyes soft.

All she wanted to do was get home and soak in a hot tub before donning her favorite pajamas and crawling under the covers. However, the look in the young man's eyes drew her in, and she found herself nodding and following him out of the alley.

As they walked along the sidewalk on the way to what she figured was the all-night coffee shop down the street, they said nothing, each mired in their own thoughts. After what had happened to her tonight, she thought she should feel more apprehensive about spending time with yet another strange man, but instead, she felt nothing but calm.

As if he knew her thoughts, he turned and looked at her, smiling before opening the door to the coffee shop for her. "After you," he said gallantly, and she smiled before going in.

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