Disclaimer: You know that really cool guy who writes a show I'm addicted
to, Buffy the Vampire Slayer? His name is Joss Whedon. Well, he owns the
show and the characters and the thing and the deeley. But, he doesn't own
me! You hear that, Jossy-Boy, YOU DON'T OWN ME!
Rating: R (I like the curse words and the sex)
Summary: After a horrifying incident, Buffy leaves Sunnydale, vowing never to return. Well, we all know she can't stay away forever.
Author's Notes: 'K, just to let ya know, I set this story right after "Seeing Red". Only, because I'm a bit psychotic, I changed some of the story. Spike did the whole icky attempted rape thing (bastard), and left to get his soul. But, after that, things change. Buffy defeated the Trio and sent them to jail forever. So, Tara never kicked the bucket and Willow didn't go all "scary and veiny". Then, Spike came back and. . . well, you'll find out what happens in a while.
Chapter Two- Found Ya'
Six Years Later
A loud banging at the back door roused Terry out of his liquor-induced coma. He waddled around the room near the back of the club that served as his home and office. In a tight ball near the radiator, he found a pair of boxers and a tee shirt, stains covering the material. Pulling the shirt over his beer belly, he made his way towards the noise.
"Who the fuck is it?!" he yelled, knowing very well who the fuck it was. Today was Tuesday, the only day the club would be closed, and it was also payday. Only one person would have the guts to come this early to get their money.
Fumbling with the locks, he slowly opened the door. There stood Phoenix Hall, an impatient scowl across her face. Pushing a blue streak of hair away from her face, she pushed the door open a bit more.
"What the hell do you want?" Terry rubbed his eyes while glancing at his wristwatch. 10:45! God, this girl has no humanity.
"My god damned money." She was a small girl, nearly half his size, yet she could pack a punch. The main reason he hired her was because it eliminated the bodyguard position. She'd serve the drinks, then beat up the assholes.
"Gave it to you last night, remember?" It was the same routine. She'd wake him up, demand money, and he'd claim it was already given.
She saw past the bullshit, and continued. "Turn your big ass around and get me my money. I have to pay my damned rent again."
Terry rolled his eyes, then turned around and made his way to the desk. Pulling out the safe underneath the desk, he slowly and painfully counted out ten hundred dollars, her weekly pay. Phoenix was the most expensive of his employees. After working there for a month, she demanded a 100% pay raise, or else she would kick his ass, then quit. And he didn't have to argue with the girl. He had seen her in action.
Pocketing half the cash, he made his way back to the door, hoping she wouldn't count it before leaving. But, again, Phoenix knew how it worked.
Even before he put the money in her hand, she demanded, "All of it, you prick!"
Wincing, Terry pulled out the pocketed cash. It always felt like surgery when he paid the small woman.
"Thank you, sweetie!" She had the amazing ability to go from bitch mode to innocent schoolgirl in seconds, a confusing, and to Terry, attractive quality.
"Well, you know," Terry whispered, grabbing her arm, "I could let you make a few thousand more this afternoon, if you're up to it." His eyebrows danced suggestively.
Prying his hand off of her, and trying to stomach the feeling of vomit, she grinned at her boss. "Maybe next time." With that, she took hold of the door, and slammed it shut.
"Bitch," growled Terry, as he made his way, once again alone, to his bed. Oh well, the other girls would come later today. It might be different.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
Phoenix made her way through the cold Chicago air, hugging her coat closer to her body. She lied to Terry about the cash. The rent wasn't due for another three weeks, and even then, it was paid in full. No, today was the only one she had off, and she wanted to go shopping.
Three blocks from the club, she made her way into her favorite clothing store, Mocha. It sold everything a bar waitress would want, and then some. Grabbing a few items off the rack, she headed into an open changing room.
Before trying on a leather corset, she caught a glimpse at herself in the mirror. She looked completely different, a stranger to the girl she left behind years ago. Her once honey blonde hair was dyed dark auburn, then streaked with bleach and neon blue hair dye. A nose and lip ring adorned her face, while many others were pierced into her ears. Tattoos on her wrist, ankles, arms. Completely different.
And that is what she had strived for. When she left home, she decided to become a new person. After jumping around the country for a year or so, she landed in Chicago, poor and hungry. A brief encounter with Terry, and she had a job. The bar did a lot of illegal things, she understood, but she had money and job security, for the moment.
At the cash register, she paid $243.94 for the clothes. Briefly flirting with the cashier, she again headed into the winter air. Chicago was always buzzing, and with a bit of effort, she blended into the scenery.
Near the crosswalk, she felt someone watching her. Although it had been years since she had trained, her senses had remained with her. And she could feel someone staring at her, watching her every move.
Phoenix shrugged off the feeling. It might have been some pervert just looking at her ass. The light signaled, and she made her way across the road.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
Todd Dirnt watched the young girl cross the street from his truck, then quickly snapped a few pictures of her with his digital camera. In a few moments, they would appear on his laptop, and he would confirm the match.
He had found her a few hours ago, leaving the club she worked at, Uranium. From what he had gathered, it was a posh club, known for its good drinks, attractive girls, and illegal drug trafficking. That had to be the reason she dressed so expensively, what with all the money her employer was raking in.
When he first spotted her, he nearly brushed it off. But as he looked closer at the girl, he saw similar facial features between the multi- colored hair girl, and the one he was looking for. This girl had obviously tried to alter her appearance as much as she could, and it worked a little. But her nose, her lips, even her frown couldn't be altered.
The laptop flashed, and the one of the pictures he had taken appeared on the screen. Clicking on the file menu, he selected 'COMPARE'. On the space next to the picture, another one appeared. It had been taken a few years earlier, and she was brightly smiling at the camera, her blonde hair blowing in the wind. The computer began to do its work.
Tapping on the dashboard, waiting for the results, he watched the girl buy a latte from a vender. If this were the girl, nine weeks of searching would be over. The people looking for her had stressed the importance that she be found quickly, and paid a hefty fee in order to make it so. Not that he was complaining, it's just that these people were so desperate. . .
A little box flashed up in the middle of the screen. Bold letters read off the results. It was as clear as day. "Comparison complete. Results=match. Accuracy=95.7%"
Grinning, Todd closed his laptop. That was all he needed. Adjusting in his seat, he watched the girl run into a boutique.
"Hello, Miss Summers," he whispered.
Rating: R (I like the curse words and the sex)
Summary: After a horrifying incident, Buffy leaves Sunnydale, vowing never to return. Well, we all know she can't stay away forever.
Author's Notes: 'K, just to let ya know, I set this story right after "Seeing Red". Only, because I'm a bit psychotic, I changed some of the story. Spike did the whole icky attempted rape thing (bastard), and left to get his soul. But, after that, things change. Buffy defeated the Trio and sent them to jail forever. So, Tara never kicked the bucket and Willow didn't go all "scary and veiny". Then, Spike came back and. . . well, you'll find out what happens in a while.
Chapter Two- Found Ya'
Six Years Later
A loud banging at the back door roused Terry out of his liquor-induced coma. He waddled around the room near the back of the club that served as his home and office. In a tight ball near the radiator, he found a pair of boxers and a tee shirt, stains covering the material. Pulling the shirt over his beer belly, he made his way towards the noise.
"Who the fuck is it?!" he yelled, knowing very well who the fuck it was. Today was Tuesday, the only day the club would be closed, and it was also payday. Only one person would have the guts to come this early to get their money.
Fumbling with the locks, he slowly opened the door. There stood Phoenix Hall, an impatient scowl across her face. Pushing a blue streak of hair away from her face, she pushed the door open a bit more.
"What the hell do you want?" Terry rubbed his eyes while glancing at his wristwatch. 10:45! God, this girl has no humanity.
"My god damned money." She was a small girl, nearly half his size, yet she could pack a punch. The main reason he hired her was because it eliminated the bodyguard position. She'd serve the drinks, then beat up the assholes.
"Gave it to you last night, remember?" It was the same routine. She'd wake him up, demand money, and he'd claim it was already given.
She saw past the bullshit, and continued. "Turn your big ass around and get me my money. I have to pay my damned rent again."
Terry rolled his eyes, then turned around and made his way to the desk. Pulling out the safe underneath the desk, he slowly and painfully counted out ten hundred dollars, her weekly pay. Phoenix was the most expensive of his employees. After working there for a month, she demanded a 100% pay raise, or else she would kick his ass, then quit. And he didn't have to argue with the girl. He had seen her in action.
Pocketing half the cash, he made his way back to the door, hoping she wouldn't count it before leaving. But, again, Phoenix knew how it worked.
Even before he put the money in her hand, she demanded, "All of it, you prick!"
Wincing, Terry pulled out the pocketed cash. It always felt like surgery when he paid the small woman.
"Thank you, sweetie!" She had the amazing ability to go from bitch mode to innocent schoolgirl in seconds, a confusing, and to Terry, attractive quality.
"Well, you know," Terry whispered, grabbing her arm, "I could let you make a few thousand more this afternoon, if you're up to it." His eyebrows danced suggestively.
Prying his hand off of her, and trying to stomach the feeling of vomit, she grinned at her boss. "Maybe next time." With that, she took hold of the door, and slammed it shut.
"Bitch," growled Terry, as he made his way, once again alone, to his bed. Oh well, the other girls would come later today. It might be different.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
Phoenix made her way through the cold Chicago air, hugging her coat closer to her body. She lied to Terry about the cash. The rent wasn't due for another three weeks, and even then, it was paid in full. No, today was the only one she had off, and she wanted to go shopping.
Three blocks from the club, she made her way into her favorite clothing store, Mocha. It sold everything a bar waitress would want, and then some. Grabbing a few items off the rack, she headed into an open changing room.
Before trying on a leather corset, she caught a glimpse at herself in the mirror. She looked completely different, a stranger to the girl she left behind years ago. Her once honey blonde hair was dyed dark auburn, then streaked with bleach and neon blue hair dye. A nose and lip ring adorned her face, while many others were pierced into her ears. Tattoos on her wrist, ankles, arms. Completely different.
And that is what she had strived for. When she left home, she decided to become a new person. After jumping around the country for a year or so, she landed in Chicago, poor and hungry. A brief encounter with Terry, and she had a job. The bar did a lot of illegal things, she understood, but she had money and job security, for the moment.
At the cash register, she paid $243.94 for the clothes. Briefly flirting with the cashier, she again headed into the winter air. Chicago was always buzzing, and with a bit of effort, she blended into the scenery.
Near the crosswalk, she felt someone watching her. Although it had been years since she had trained, her senses had remained with her. And she could feel someone staring at her, watching her every move.
Phoenix shrugged off the feeling. It might have been some pervert just looking at her ass. The light signaled, and she made her way across the road.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
Todd Dirnt watched the young girl cross the street from his truck, then quickly snapped a few pictures of her with his digital camera. In a few moments, they would appear on his laptop, and he would confirm the match.
He had found her a few hours ago, leaving the club she worked at, Uranium. From what he had gathered, it was a posh club, known for its good drinks, attractive girls, and illegal drug trafficking. That had to be the reason she dressed so expensively, what with all the money her employer was raking in.
When he first spotted her, he nearly brushed it off. But as he looked closer at the girl, he saw similar facial features between the multi- colored hair girl, and the one he was looking for. This girl had obviously tried to alter her appearance as much as she could, and it worked a little. But her nose, her lips, even her frown couldn't be altered.
The laptop flashed, and the one of the pictures he had taken appeared on the screen. Clicking on the file menu, he selected 'COMPARE'. On the space next to the picture, another one appeared. It had been taken a few years earlier, and she was brightly smiling at the camera, her blonde hair blowing in the wind. The computer began to do its work.
Tapping on the dashboard, waiting for the results, he watched the girl buy a latte from a vender. If this were the girl, nine weeks of searching would be over. The people looking for her had stressed the importance that she be found quickly, and paid a hefty fee in order to make it so. Not that he was complaining, it's just that these people were so desperate. . .
A little box flashed up in the middle of the screen. Bold letters read off the results. It was as clear as day. "Comparison complete. Results=match. Accuracy=95.7%"
Grinning, Todd closed his laptop. That was all he needed. Adjusting in his seat, he watched the girl run into a boutique.
"Hello, Miss Summers," he whispered.