A/N: I'm back after the holidays! I hope you had a nice couple of weeks, cause mine were pretty awesome. But now it's back to normal life and writing for all you folks. Enjoy!
Chapter 3 - Damsels
Buffy came home from school like she did every day, throwing her backpack under the dining room table and heading for the kitchen. "Mom!" she yelled. "I'm home."
There was no answer, which wasn't particularly odd. Joyce Summers was recovering from cancer and more often than not had to take an afternoon nap. Buffy took the stairs up to the second floor of her house two at a time and cracked open her mother's bedroom door. No one in the bed, and after a little investigation, no one in the bathroom either.
Oh well, maybe her mother was feeling better and had gone out to the store or something. Even back to work? That was a dream Buffy couldn't help having. If her mother went back to work, Buffy wouldn't have to fight anymore. She could be a normal girl again. She could accept offers to colleges, she could get on with her life.
Hopeful, Buffy bounced back to the kitchen to make a snack for Dawn, who would be home on the bus very soon. She'd decided on veggies and dip before reaching the kitchen and noticing the blinky little light on the answering machine.
Shrugging, Buffy pressed the 'play' button and went to the refrigerator while the machine whirred and turned back the tape. How lame was it that her mom still had a tape-recording answering machine? Soon the tape clicked and the machine changed directions playing the answering machine message.
"Girls, it's Mom," came her mother's voice, wavering with emotion. "My check up today didn't go so well and I have to stay here in the hospital at least overnight. If you could bring my bag - it's on the floor of my closet, already packed - that would be helpful. I'm in room 215." It sounded like her mother was trying to hold back tears as she spoke, and the emotion echoed in Buffy as she listened to the words, which drew reluctant tears from her eyes.
"Shit," she breathed, writing down the hospital room number and wiping her eyes. The doctors didn't ever make her mother stay overnight unless something was really wrong. Something was wrong, damn it. And Buffy's mother would never let on how bad it was over an answering machine message. Buffy would have to stew over all the possibilities until she and Dawn could get to the hospital and get the news first hand.
Checking the driveway, Buffy realized her mother's car was gone, probably parked outside the hospital. That was something at least. Mom wouldn't have taken the car if she knew she wasn't coming home that night. They'd argued more than once about her mother's tendency to sugar-coat the truth of her medical problems, supposedly for Buffy's benefit. But she told her mother over and over again, that if she expected Buffy to take care of things while she was ill, she couldn't keep the severity of her condition a secret. It just wasn't fair.
Not that anything about her life was fair. Buffy's father left them, and they hadn't heard from him in years. He didn't even respond when Buffy tried to let him know that Mom was sick and they really needed his help with money. Begging him wasn't a job she relished, but she knew her mother would never ask Dad for the money they needed. Not even on her deathbed.
So Buffy picked up the slack. Still a few months away from her eighteenth birthday, and she was carrying her family through everything, all while trying to finish school. Maybe it wasn't worth it. Maybe she wouldn't ever get to go off to college with her friends. Maybe she'd be stuck in this town forever. Working retail, or waitressing maybe? She'd spent one summer as a diner waitress in LA, when she was supposed to be visiting her father. But the man was too preoccupied with Tracy, his new girlfriend, who was always around the house and poking her nose into Buffy's business. So Buffy left, told her father she was going back to her mother's house and told her mother she was safe with Dad. No way those two would ever speak to each other and figure out her lie. And Buffy hadn't even spoken to her father since.
Back then, the summer before last, being on her own had been an exciting adventure. Get a job, rent a tiny little room by the week from a man who didn't care she was only sixteen, do whatever she pleased, try not to get lonely at night when the city made strange noises and she realized there wasn't someone who cared about her in the next room, ready to protect her from the big bad world. She'd gotten through that summer no sweat, so when Mom had first gotten sick, Buffy thought she could handle it. She was a woman of the world; picking up some of the slack around the house would be no big deal.
It was a big deal. It was a huge frickin' deal with a cherry on top. It was being buried under an avalanche of bills and doctor appointments and homework and making sure Dawn didn't starve.
God forbid her mother should die! Then it would be foster homes for her and Dawn, at least until Buffy's eighteenth birthday, and that was not a place Buffy wanted to end up. Maybe she could win enough fights and stash enough money that if her mother did die, Buffy would have the means to escape the system. She'd have to take Dawn with, of course. No way was she letting her sister stay in foster care alone.
This is what her life had come to. Other seventeen-year-old girls were thinking of college and boys and clothes, while Buffy was making plans for the inevitable day when her mother died and left her and Dawn all alone in the world.
Sighing, Buffy glanced at the clock above the stove, calculating how much time she had left before Dawn got home and they'd have to make their way to the hospital yet again. Just enough time for both calls.
First, she called Xander and asked for a ride. "Yeah, Xand. My mom's got to stay at the hospital overnight and she didn't leave the car here…No, I don't need a ride home, I'll take Mom's Jeep…Yeah, I'm sure…Thanks."
The second call was the dicier of the two – the call she'd had to make too many times in the past six months. "Hey, Dru," she said when a high-pitched sing-song voice answered the phone. "Is Spike there?"
"May I ask who's calling, or is it a surprise?"
"The second," Buffy replied, just wanting to push through the drivel that tended to escape Drucilla's mouth. Spike's girlfriend was drugged out on something more often than not, and Buffy had learned it was just better to go with the flow and try to sidestep that whole pile of crazy.
"Baby," Buffy heard Dru calling into the background, "you've a mystery caller. I think she sounds like feathers."
"Yeah, great," Spike replied faintly. There were a few scraping sounds as the phone was passed over and Spike came on the line, "Yeah, what d'ya want?"
"It's Buffy Summers," the girl said, keeping her voice even and straightforward. "I could use another fight, if that's anywhere in the cards."
"Hey, Buff," he drawled lewdly, despite the fact that his girlfriend was probably still standing right beside him. "Thought you'd never call." Buffy tried her best not to shiver in revulsion at the suggestion in his voice.
"Yeah, well," she started, clearing her throat. "I need the money."
"That's what they all say, luv," Spike replied, and Buffy could almost see that evil smirk on his face.
"Whatever, Spike. Do you have something for me, or not?"
Spike chuckled and said, "Yeah, sure. We got a fight goin' down tomorrow night."
"Same place?"
"Aye. Ten o'clock, pet."
"I'll be there," Buffy decided, hanging up on Spike before he could say anything else to her. She hated working for him, but he was the only creep in town running fights between women as well as men. At least he hadn't made her fight in a tub of pudding or something else just as ridiculous. No, Spike's customers wanted the real deal, raw fights where blood was paramount and no one left uninjured.
Just as Buffy was pulling her little purse out of her backpack, her sister came bouncing into the house, calling, "I'm home."
"Dawn, keep your shoes on," Buffy ordered in greeting.
"Geez, Buff," her sister replied. "What crawled up your butt?"
"Mom's in the hospital," Buffy answered with a frown, making sure her driver's license and her keys were in her purse. "Xander's gonna drive us."
"How bad is it?" Dawn asked. The thirteen-year-old always wanted to know the truth. Just like Buffy, she was sick of the sugar-coated version of things.
"I don't know," Buffy sighed, "but Mom didn't sound too happy when she left the message on our answering machine."
Dawn nodded, taking in the information but keeping her reaction to it quiet. Buffy'd noticed how her sister tended to close up more and more every time they got bad news, probably scared of the same thing they'd all been dreading since that first doctor uttered the word, "Cancer." Their mother would probably die sooner rather than later and their father could give two shits about what happened to his daughters.
It was just as bad as Buffy had feared. The cancer was back, and spreading. Mom was scheduled for surgery in the morning, and there was a chance she wouldn't come out of it. Buffy let Dawn say her goodbyes to their mother first, standing outside the hospital room and waiting her turn. Eventually, Dawn came out, her eyes reddened with repressed tears.
Buffy ventured into the room then, noting how it was exactly like every other hospital room she'd seen in the past six months. "Hey, Mom."
"Hi, Buffy," her mother said with a small smile and a slight wave. "I know this is really hard on you, sweetie, even more than your sister." Drawing Buffy into a hug, her mother whispered, "I just want to let you know how proud I am of how responsible you've been during this whole thing. You've been a lifesaver, Buffy."
"Mom," she muttered. "Let's not, okay? I'll see you tomorrow after surgery."
"Of course," Mom nodded. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
Buffy got the feeling that her mother was saying this to convince herself more than her daughter. In all the mayhem, Buffy hadn't really thought much about what her mother was going through. Now she realized that her mother was scared of dying, and Buffy found she couldn't fault her for that. Or for anything, really. It was just crappy circumstances that forced Buffy into the ring. It was just bad luck, nobody's fault – especially not Mom's.
"Don't worry," Buffy said, hugging her mother again. "I'll take care of everything at home. Dawn and I are fine. You just concentrate on getting better. I love you."
"Thank you, honey," her mother nodded. "I love you, too." As Buffy left, she could feel her mother watching her go. Probably wondering if this was the last time she'd see her daughter. At the thought, Buffy looked back, taking in that one last look at her mother's face, at once familiar and strange. Her mother's appearance had changed so much in the past few months, if Buffy hadn't watched the progression, she wasn't sure she'd even recognize her.
Joyce pulled through the surgery well, and Buffy took Dawn to see her the next afternoon, after they'd both spent a tense day in school. Buffy couldn't remember any particular moment in the day. It was all just a blur of classes and that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that something bad was going to happen.
But it didn't. The doctors were hopeful Buffy's mother would make a full recovery, after more rounds of radiation and chemotherapy. All of which needed to be paid for, along with the mortgage and all the other bills. Joyce had some insurance and a little bit of sick pay from her job at a local art gallery, but it wasn't enough to cover everything. Buffy had said she'd take care of it, and her mother, not really caring to pry, had bought the lie Buffy told her about being a telemarketer. If Joyce knew how Buffy really made her money, she wouldn't concentrate on getting better.
So Buffy lied. She left the hospital long before the fight would actually start, hanging out in the library and doing her homework before dropping her things off at Willow's house and walking to the warehouse. Business first, Buffy found Clem and gave him a few bills, betting on herself. She always got a tiny take of the house winnings, even when she lost, but Buffy found she could make even more money by betting and winning. And Spike let her; hell, he let all his fighters bet on themselves as long as they didn't get greedy. But a hundred bucks – turned into two or three hundred, depending on the odds – that was kosher. On a good night, Buffy could make almost five hundred, if enough gamblers showed up. It was enough, because it had to be.
When it was her turn, Buffy stripped off her sweatshirt and shoes, having already taped up her wrists, and stepped into the ring. Her opponent was a girl she'd never seen before, though she'd heard of her from Faith. Glory Emmanuel – a bottle-blonde firecracker who had a reputation for being one of the toughest fighters in the rotation. Sizing her up, Buffy decided the woman was taller than her, but not much heavier, which was a shame. It meant she was probably going to be fast, as well as having a longer reach.
Spike made the announcements and rang the starting bell, and Buffy quickly decided that her first impressions had been right. There was no good way around the taller woman's defenses and she was skilled, more so than most. Glory's blows were hard and left no opening for retaliation and before long, Buffy hit the ground, seeing stars and just unable to get up and continue the fight.
"Well there goes a hundred bucks," Buffy muttered as she wiped the blood from her lip and limped away from the ring in defeat. She'd lost a few times before, but it was such a rare occurrence that Buffy found her pride wounded as well as her body. And the loss of just a hundred dollars was almost more than she could bear.
Fighting to hold back tears, she made her way through the crowd and toward the exit, keeping her head down so fewer people would recognize her. It worked all the way out of the warehouse and ten feet into the parking lot. But there a trio of guys stopped her, the one in a dark leather coat grabbing her arm and saying with liquor tinted breath, "Where you off to in such a hurry, sweetheart?"
"Well," she said, twisting her arm out of the guy's grasp and trying not to back down and burst into tears like a little girl, "I was planning on going home, but maybe you'd like your ass kicked, huh?"
The man and his two buddies laughed. "I saw you out in the ring tonight, cupcake," the first man said. "You couldn't even beat that skinny bitch. Why should I think you could take me down? You know, I lost a lot of money on you tonight," he said, taking a step closer.
"You shouldn't gamble," Buffy said lightly, struggling to hold her ground against this guy who probably weighed at least twice as much as she did. "It's a really nasty habit."
The man laughed. "I kinda like you, kid. But I lost so much on you tonight, I'm gonna have to get my money's worth." The man lunged at Buffy, but she danced away...and right into the arms of one of the guy's friends. This one wasn't quite as big as the first, but he looked stronger – like he was no stranger to a fight.
"Agh," Buffy screamed furiously, stomping down on her captor's instep just before kneeing him in the nuts. She just managed to untangle herself from that guy as he fell, but the first man and his remaining friend, a balding guy with disgustingly thick lips and arms to match, immobilized her by twisting her arms behind her back.
"C'mon," said the main guy, Leather Coat. "Let's get her somewhere quieter."
"What about Lenny?" asked Lips.
"He'll catch up when he can walk again," the first man assured his friend.
"Let me go, you apes!" Buffy yelled, her heart pounding so quickly she thought it might explode. She didn't even want to think how these guys might think to get their money's worth out of her.
"If you hurt me," she warned. "Spike won't let it go. He'll come after you. I'm one of his best fighters."
"Spike's small time, honey," Leather Coat told her. "He couldn't whack a dead puppy with the goons he's got."
"Ha!" Buffy said as he transferred her arms to his friend and stood in front of her. "That's funny. You should think about a career in comedy with lines like that." Before the guy could respond, Buffy scrunched up her abs, bringing up her feet and kicking Leather Coat directly in the gut. Fortunately, the blow landed well and he lost his balance, falling back and hitting his head on the pavement.
"Hey!" growled the man behind her, Lips, twisting her arms up painfully. "You'll pay for that too, missy!"
A somewhat familiar voice came from behind them, "I'll pick up that tab."
Lips turned them both around, as the first man got up, holding his head and asking, "Who the fuck are you?"
"Angel," Buffy breathed, finally getting turned far enough that she could see him. He was looking very much Mr. Hot Private Eye in dark pants and a black trench coat over a tight white shirt. She never – okay, sometimes – thought she'd be so happy to see this jerk again, after how things had gone between them the last time. And his eyes were just as captivating as ever. Angel smirked at the goons like he hadn't a care in the world, though Buffy noticed the concerned tilt to his eyes when his met hers for a fraction of a second. Buffy was almost glad for the tight grip Lips had on her arms, since it kept her upright when her knees weakened at that brief glance.
"Well, whoever you are," Leather Coat sneered, "fuck off. This is between us and the girl."
"Yeah, I really can't do that," Angel said, taking another step closer.
"You're only gonna get yourself hurt, buddy," the goon warned, crossing his arms over his chest, though Buffy caught how uneven his balance was as he stood there trying to look intimidating. He must have really conked his head when Buffy knocked him down. Smirking a little with pride and taking a chance, she tried to struggle out of her captor's arms with a jerk, but he held her fast, not even giving her an inch of leeway. Buffy gave up and raised her head, just in time to see Lenny sneaking up on Angel from the parking lot.
"Behind you!" she yelled, breathless as Angel turned without hesitation, his big fist flying unerringly into Lenny's face, hitting with a satisfying crunch. Unintentionally, Buffy noticed Angel's form, the precise fluidity of muscles that told her he wasn't lying when he said he knew a thing or two about boxing.
"You fucking bastard," Leather Coat yelled as his friend hit the pavement, out cold. "Just who do you think you are?" The man threw a punch at Angel, but he missed as Angel ducked out of the way, coming back with a low kick to the attacker's knee. The bone shattered with a sickening crunch and Leather Coat went down, screaming.
At his friend's distress, the man holding Buffy loosened his grip on her. "Oh, bad move, guy," she snarled, ripping her arms from his grasp and gripping her hands together so she could swing both in one big fist up at his face. The hit landed, though it was a bit more glancing than Buffy had planned on. The guy swung back at her ribs, but Angel caught his arm before it could make contact, twisting it behind the man's back so he winced and fell to his knees.
"You know," said Buffy, leaning down to get in the man's face, "it's really not a great idea to mess with people who fight for a living. Plus? Ganging up on a girl? So not cool."
"What are you gonna do?" he scoffed. "Call the cops? How're you gonna explain this place?"
"Yeah, not really an option," Buffy agreed, glancing up at Angel with a smirk right before she drew back her leg and kicked the guy in the crotch as hard as she could.
"C'mon," said Angel as he let Lips go so the guy could whimper and writhe in pain on the ground. "Let's get out of here."
"Sure," Buffy agreed, so glad he'd shown up when he did. If not for Angel, that already crappy night would have been so much worse.
So what did you think? Was it worth the wait?
~Ptera
