Chapter Two
Dean waited outside Sam's school, impatiently fiddling with the small Stanley knife he kept in his pocket. Anne had left the diner after their conversation, and Dean was itching to see her again.
He knew that, for a moment, he had gotten through to her. He had seen the crack in her stony exterior, and saw hope shine through her eyes. It was gone all too quickly. Without warning, she shut back down, cutting him off and locking him out.
Not knowing why he cared so much, Dean had found himself disheartened when she walked away. Even with her departing remark of appreciation wasn't enough to take out the sting.
Sam saddled up beside him, sending him a welcoming smile. Dean matched it, and they started walking back to their room.
"So, what happened?" Sam asked curiously. Dean didn't have to wonder what he meant. When he had gone in search of Anne, Sam had needed to leave for school. He said he would want an update, given the waitress' abrupt departure.
"She blew me off," Dean replied, disappointment thick in his voice.
Nodding, as if he figured that would be the case, Sam commented, "I think she's hiding from someone."
"What makes you say that?" Dean asked, turning his face to look at his brother.
"The way she shut me down when I asked about school, it was as if I asked her bra size," Sam joked with a slight blush, "Plus you saw her face when that girl asked if she knew her, she went pale white and then bailed. It's not just that though, I've seen the chef call out her name a few times, and every time she takes a while to react, as if she didn't recognise it as her own. I don't think Anne is her real name."
Dean was quiet a moment while he considered Sam's argument. It actually made sense.
"You're right," Dean finally said, his voice filled with surprise, "I wonder what she's running from."
Sam looked smug at Dean's agreement and walked with his back a little straighter, "I'm not sure, but it can't be good." His face grew sad, "She seems pretty young to be on the run."
Dean nodded, lost in thought.
"What are you gunna do?" Sam asked, looking up at him.
With a deep sigh, Dean replied, "I don't know. She's made it pretty clear she wants to be left alone, but," he trailed off, not knowing what to say.
Sam nodded to, "I get it. I want to help her too. I've never seen someone so sad."
Dean looked at his brother in affection, proud at the kid's empathy. They met this girl two days ago, and Sam was already set to help her out.
A couple of hours later, they made their way back to the diner. They were pleased to see Anne back at work, busting one of her tables.
The boys made their way to the table, and sat down. Looking around, Dean noticed the diner seemed quieter than usual. He hoped that meant more face time with Anne.
As if on cue, she came to their table, usual pad in hand.
"Hey guys," She prompted, "what can I get ya?"
Her face was still blank, and she didn't initiate any conversation, but the greeting was new. It was a small victory, but enough of one to make him grin.
"Heya Anne, how are you?" He asked, smiling up at her.
"Good," she replied, not offering more or asking them.
Ignoring her lack of interest in conversation, Dean replied, "That's good. I'm good too. So is Sammy."
Sam smiled at her, "yup," he agreed, "I'm good."
Anne sent a withering look Dean's way, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.
Unashamed, Dean sent her a shrug in return, his smirk unwavering.
"That's good," she responded, "I'm glad." The words were genuine, but it was clear that was as much conversation she would accept.
Dean nodded, happy with his small victory and put in his order. Sam followed suit, and Anne wrote it all down. She looked at him in surprise as she walked away, as if she expected him to have tried for more.
When she left, Sam turned to Dean, "She barely spoke to us."
"But she spoke to us," Dean reassured, "about something non-food related. That's something, at least."
Sam nodded, but didn't look convinced.
"Trust me, Sammy, it's progress."
Anne brought back their food, put it down silently but let slip the tiniest of smiles in Sam's direction when he thanked her.
Without any more conversation, they ate, paid, and left.
Four hours later, and Dean was back at the diner, waiting for Anne to finish. He knew he risked annoying her, but he was truly worried about her walking home alone. LA wasn't known for its safety.
He moved to the ally next to the diner, hoping to quickly pee before Anne came out. He was just about done, when he saw a shadow pass the alley way. Cursing, he noticed it was her.
Zipping his fly, he made his way to leave the ally, but noticed a second person approaching. He recognised her from the diner. She had been the girl that had recognised Anne.
He slowed down his walk, and waited.
"Anne? Anne?" The girl called, trying to get Anne's attention. She kept walking, as if not hearing the call.
The girl tried another tactic, "Buffy?"
Anne stopped walking, and turned. Dean's eyes widened as he realised Sam had been right. Her name was Buffy, not Anne. He stilled himself, straining his ears to hear the rest of the conversation.
"Don't be mad," the girl said quickly, not wanting to spook Buffy, "I won't turn you in or nothing. I guess you don't recognize me."
"Lily?" Buffy asked, obviously remembering her from the diner.
"I mean from before. I was calling myself Chantarelle then. I used to," her voice lowered, but Dean was still close enough to hear, "I was in that cult that worshipped vampires."
He almost jumped at the name. He felt himself wondering if they knew about his world, where monsters were real. He was about to chalk it up to a crazy goth obsession when the conversation continued.
"So lame, I know," Lily commented, in a self-depreciating tone.
"Oh, yeah," Buffy said, obviously realising how she knew Lily, but not wanting to push for more conversation.
Lily didn't get the hint, "You kind of saved us. I never thanked you or anything."
Realisation was dawning on Dean. He knew now why he recognised the pain in Buffy's eyes. She was a hunter, or knew one. He could spot a hunter a mile away, but was caught unaware by Buffy's youth and looks.
"Did you tell anyone who I was?" Buffy demanded, not acknowledging Lily's appreciation.
"Oh, no! Not even Ricky. I was so surprised to see you here, waiting tables," Lily commented, as if she had expected so much more from her, "but I wouldn't tell. I know how it is when you gotta get lost."
They started to walk together, and Dean waited a moment before following.
"So, you live nearby?" Buffy asked, showing more curiosity for something than Dean had seen in the time he'd known her.
"There's a couple of places, they're abandoned and a lot of people stay there. Ricky knows all those places, he can always find somewhere to crash. He's pretty smart. So how come you came up with Anne?"
"It's my middle name."
"Lily's from a song," She explained, a smile in her voice, "Ricky picked it. I'm always changing anyway. Chantarelle was part of my exotic phase."
"It's nice. It's a mushroom."
"It is? That's really embarrassing."
"It's an exotic mushroom, if that's any comfort," Buffy added, her awkward reassurance amusing Dean.
"Well, before that I was following this loser Preacher and calling myself Sister Sunshine. There's nothing worse than that."
"Nothing springs to mind, it's true," she trailed off, but quickly continued, "What about at home, what'd they call you?"
Lily didn't answer, which gave both Dean and Buffy all the answer they needed.
"Well, I like Lily," Buffy replied. Dean saw Buffy send a heartfelt smile Lily's way, which was returned quickly.
"It's cool for now. Hey, do you have any money?"
Buffy stopped awkwardly, and it took all of Dean's grace to stop without being obvious.
"I don't mean that like," Lily trailed off awkwardly, knowing how it came across, "Well, I just mean, I know a guy, he's having like a rave kind of thing, in this basement, it's three dollars to get in and you have to know someone. We could go, I could show you if you had, 'cause I'm broke."
"I don't think so," Buffy said quietly, "I kind of want to be alone."
"Well, I didn't mean to bug you," Lily remarked, clearly hurt.
"No, I just mean a lot of people would be too much," she dug into her pocket, and pulled out some money, "Here, why don't you go with Rickie, and I'll see you some time."
Lily held her hands up, interrupting Buffy, "No, that's okay, forget about it."
"No, really, I," Buffy started, before being interrupted by an old homeless man ploughing through them. Dean managed to step out of sight as the girls turned to look at who had pushed them.
"Woah!" Buffy exclaimed.
"That's not very polite," Lily said to their jostler.
The old man turned to the girls, obscuring his face from Dean's view. The girls grew concerned as they looked at him, but the reason why was out of Dean's sight.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, her voice thick with concern.
He just stared, but then in a crackly whisper replied, "I'm no one."
"What?" Buffy asked.
The man looked at them for a moment longer, but then turned to walk out onto the street. He didn't look as he walked, and stepped right in front of an incoming pick-up truck.
Moving faster than anyone he'd ever seen, Buffy bolted for the man, stepping onto the street and pushing him out of the way. She was not as lucky. The track slammed into her full speed, and sent her flying back on the street.
She hit the ground hard, rolling.
Dean felt his stomach drop, and bile rise in his throat. Running, he was quickly at her side.
"Call an ambulance!" he yelled hoarsely towards the truck driver, who was getting out of the car with a shocked look on his face.
Lily joined him, "Are you okay?"
Buffy looked at both of them, no surprise on her face at seeing Dean. She started to get up.
"Jeez, I didn't see you!" The truck driver said.
"Maybe you shouldn't move," Lily said, reaching out a hand to steady Buffy, who was standing but on shaky feet.
"Yeah, you should lie down," the truck driver commented, sincerely concerned.
"Call an ambulance," Dean repeated to the man again, trying to keep a calm head.
"It's okay," Buffy said, putting a hand up to stop the driver.
Dean took a decent look at the small girl. She didn't seem to have a scratch on her, and the only thing that seemed to be bothering her were the increasing amount of people surrounding them.
Seeing the signs of panic, Dean put his hands up, and waved the people away. He put his other arm around Buffy, and led her away to a small set of stairs close to them. Lily joined them, circling around Dean to look at Buffy in worry.
Looking at them both, the panic in Buffy seemed to subside, but didn't go away entirely. She settled her eyes on Dean and looked at him questioningly.
He ignored all the unasked questions between them and instead inquired if she was okay.
She nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving his. He frowned. She shouldn't be okay. She should have half a dozen injuries, or more. He murmured a quick 'christo' under his breath, but she didn't react, other than a perplexed look.
With another anxious look towards the crowd and truck driver, Buffy started to rise.
"I have to go," she said. Before anyone could stop her, she was off running. Dean tried to keep up, but she outpaced him quickly.
He turned a corner, and was surprised to find her bending over, picking up leaflets. There was a man with her, and by his ruffled appearance, Dean guessed that Buffy had just run into him.
"Maybe I should ask, where are you running from," the man asked, his voice carrying over to Dean. Huffing, Dean stood a few paces away, wanting to see if she'd answer.
Buffy hesitated for a moment, but quickly went back to picking up the leaflets. The man squatted down to help.
"You're pretty new around here. You've got the look, though."
"The look," Buffy replied curiously.
"Like you had to grow up way too fast. What's your name?" He asked, trying to prompt her into a conversation
"Anne."
"I'm Ken. Go ahead and keep one of these." He handed her one of the flyers.
She looked at its contents, but it was too far for Dean to see.
"Don't be shy about stopping by. I guess you're not starving, but we're not just interested in feeding the body. You might find something you're missing," the man explained. He spoke with compassion and sincerity, his empathy for the youth shining through with each word.
"I'm all right," Buffy said unconvincingly.
"Then why are you here?"
She didn't reply, but the man looked around, taking in her surroundings. On the other side of the road were a bunch of kids. They were obviously in their early teens, but their bearing and clothing made them look decades older. Even with the distance, Dean could see how detached these kids seemed. Their clothes were ratty and old, and the fact they were on the streets this late showed the lack of parental care.
"This isn't a good place for a kid to be. You get old fast here. The thing that does it, that drains the life out of them: despair. Kids come here, they got nothing to go home to and this is the last stop for a lot of them. Shouldn't have to be that way."
Dean looked back at Buffy and the man, and saw that his words had resonated with her. She felt his words on a personal level, and was unsure about what to do. He watched as she started to take in the streets around her, looking as if she was just seeing it for the first time.
There were kids all over the place, begging for money, hanging out, selling drugs and getting into fights. He saw the despair on her face.
As she looked, her face swung towards him.
She mumbled a quick thank you to the man she had been speaking to and made her way over to him.
"Still following me?" She asked, with more emotion in her voice than he had heard in the time he'd known her.
He gave a rueful smile, "it seems to be the only way to get to know you, Buffy."
At the sound of her real name, her eyes widened, "how long have you been following me?" she demanded.
"I came to the diner to walk you home again," he tried to explain without coming across like a creep, "I saw you meet up with someone, so I decided to just walk home. I can't help it's in the same direction."
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, knowing he wasn't being exactly truthful.
He appraised her seriously, "Are you sure you're okay? That truck was pretty big."
Buffy started to walk in the direction of home, and he stepped in beside her.
"I told you, you don't have to worry about me."
"I know," he said with a small smile, "but here I am."
"But here you are," she repeated sarcastically. "Why?"
He sighed deeply, "I don't know. All I know is that whatever is going on with you, whatever has got you on the run, I want to help."
She laughed harshly, "why would you want to help me? What makes you think I'm someone worth helping?"
"I just do," he said lamely, knowing it wasn't enough, but not knowing how to explain how drawn he was to her. If he did, he was sure it wouldn't help his point.
She stopped walking, turned to him and walked towards him. As she moved, she looked predatory, as if she was on the hunt. Taken unaware, Dean stepped back until he felt brick against his back. She kept going until there were only inches keeping them apart.
"And what if I told you I had killed someone? Would you want to help me then? What if I had stabbed someone through the stomach, and watched as they died? Would you still think I'm worth helping?" Her eyes were intense as she spat out the words, her face cold and harsh. She could have almost convinced him, if he hadn't caught her clenching her fist to stop it shaking. This girl wasn't a cold blooded killer.
He looked down at her, his face impassive, "yes."
He watched as she deflated, shock coming across her face, "you shouldn't," was all she muttered as she turned away.
She started to walk back to her apartment, with Dean quickly stepping beside her. They made the rest of the walk in silence, neither knowing what to say. Once they arrived, she turned to look at him. She didn't speak, didn't move, but searched his face, as if trying to solve a mystery that was eluding her.
She made a small appreciative smile, and walked up the stairs and into the building.
Buffy left her apartment with apprehension. Yesterday had been a tornado of emotions for the Slayer. Lily recognising her was one thing. The girl seemed content to let Buffy live in anonymity, even if she knew about Buffy's secrets.
Dean was another matter. She knew it was only a matter of time before he came to her asking questions. He was too smart to not wonder how she was up and walking after being hit by a truck.
There was something about Dean that Buffy couldn't figure out. The way he looked at her, it was as if he was looking into her very soul, unwrapping and peeking into her most personal thoughts and fears. The strangest thing was his level of understanding. In the small amount of times they had spoken, he had spoken in a way that seemed to appeal to Buffy, as if he knew the life she lived. As if he could understand the darkness and despair.
She frowned as she left the apartment hallway and pushed through the main entry doors. It was impossible for him to understand, what would he know about being the Slayer?
Lifting her head to descend the stairs, Buffy found Dean already waiting for her. With a deep sigh, and a total lack of surprise, she made her way towards him.
He looked up at the sound of the door, and watched her come close, his insufferable grin missing.
"Aren't you bright eyed and bushy tailed," she joked as she walked up towards him.
Her joke surprised her, and his face split with a quick grin, before it quickly disappeared.
"We need to talk," he said gruffly.
"No," she said, turning to start her walk to work, "we don't."
He followed closely behind, "Are you a hunter?"
She laughed as she looked at him, "A what?"
"A hunter," he repeated, his demeanour unwavering.
Still grinning, she shook her head, "no, I prefer my meat store bought."
"I don't mean that kind of hunter," he replied seriously.
Since she had known Dean, Buffy took for granted his joking behaviour. In a way, she found his seriousness more endearing, but it frightened her. The guy from the diner wanted a girl to warm his bed and disappear by the morning. This Dean was determined, the type to ask questions until he got the answers he wanted.
"What other is there?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"The type that hunts what goes bump in the night," he said, his voice deep, low, and close to her ear.
She stopped suddenly, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into a nearby ally way. She pushed him against the wall and looked up at him with a threatening look.
He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow and smile that was closer to a leer. It was seductive, suggestive and completely presumptuous.
"Sweetheart, I've been waiting for you to drag me into a dark, secluded place since I met you," he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he looked over the trash strewn ally, "although, I would have preferred somewhere a bit cleaner."
She sent him a withering look, "Whatever you think you know about me, forget it."
Becoming serious again, Dean straightened, "I know you're running. I know you don't want anyone to know who you are, or where you are. I know you fight monsters," he paused for a second, as if waiting for a reaction. Obviously not getting what he expected, he continued, "I know you can get hit by a truck without injury, and have a grip like a pro wrestler." He rubbed the arm she had grabbed to emphasise his point.
Buffy looked down in dismay. She cursed herself and stepped away, moving to the other side of the ally. She thought she had been so careful, but she's slipped up, multiple times.
Dean moved closer to her, "So why don't you tell me the things I don't know."
When she looked back up, she surprised them both with the tear that was running down her face. It was only a single drop, but in its singularity it spoke everything she couldn't. Her pain was beyond anything she could handle, but even now she had to be strong.
"I'm not a hunter," she murmured, "I don't even know what that is."
He frowned, "A hunter hunts monsters. We look for the signs, and head to towns that need help. There's dozens of us. Maybe hundreds."
"Us?" She asked quietly.
He looked at her for a long moment before nodding, "yeah, us."
It was with a moment of clarity that she realised what was so familiar about him. He understood what it was like to fight evil and protect the innocent. Dean had seen what was really out there, and knew what it could do. He had seen the death and destruction that came with her life, and he chose to do it. There was no destiny for him.
So shocked, she just stared, no reply coming.
"So?" he prompted after a moment, "Are you a hunter too?"
"No," she replied, her voice thick, "I'm something different."
His frown wrinkled in confusion, "What?"
"I'm the Slayer."
He somehow managed to look more perplexed, his eye brows furrowed so deep, he looked like he was about to go cross eyed.
"What's a slayer?" he asked dumbly.
She rolled her eyes, "Look, I gotta get to work. Do your research, and meet me at the diner. I finish at 4."
Before he could respond, she took off.
Buffy had been nonstop for hours, with only her Slayer endurance keeping her moving. The weekend always brought in a crowd, but today had been extra busy.
Just as Buffy had served a customer's food, she noticed Lily rush into the diner. Her hair a mess and her clothes unkempt, it was obvious she was in distress. With unease, Buffy watched as the tall girl spotted her, and moved in her direction.
"Buf, uh, Anne? Can I talk to you?" Lily blurted out quickly.
Worried that someone would overhear, Buffy lead her over to the side of the diner, out of ear shot of any customers.
"We got kind of a rush here, is there another time-"
Lily cut her off in a panic, "Rickie's gone. I mean, I haven't seen him for more than a day, he's never left for that long, I think something's happened. Maybe something's happened." Her words spilled out over each other, barely becoming more than rambling.
"Well, did you talk to the police?" Buffy asked shortly.
She shook her head in reply. "Rickie's skipped on his parole, they'd just," Lily's voice trailed off.
"Well, you could," Buffy started to reply evasively, feeling her own panic start to rise, "I don't know, ask around and-"
She was cut off again, "Can you help me?"
Buffy just started at her for a moment, her mind going into overdrive.
No no no no.
"I can't," She managed to reply bluntly.
"But, but, that's who you are and stuff, right?" Lily begged, "I mean, you help people, and, you know," her voice trailed off again.
"I can't get into this now, I'm sorry," Buffy replied sincerely. There was an innate deep part of her that wanted to rush out and be the hero, but a much stronger part reminded her that being the hero is what led to her killing Angel.
"You know how to do stuff," Lily tried again, her voice weak.
"I can't, not anymore."
"But, I don't know what to do." Desperation and hopelessness was rife in her words, hitting Buffy harder than the truck ever did.
"I'm off at four."
A/N:
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