Buffy The Vampire Slayer – Broken Origin I

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Author: Dev Nine-Asher

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Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!

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Chapter Five

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The Slayer was too quiet on the long walk back. It made him suspicious, so Spike jostled her roughly on his shoulder, smiling briefly as he heard the air leave her lungs. She gave a low moan, and he heard the silky slide of her hair against his duster as she turned her head.

"Just in case you're thinking of trying something before we get back to the warehouse, I think you ought to know there are quite a few nasties with nests in this area. Even if you do get away from me again, you stumble across some slimy Vyrtek demons eggs, you'll be forfeit one head and find your innards home to a bouncing baby slug, get my meaning?"

In answer, she tried to land a kick to his groin, and an elbow to his face. Both movements were pathetically weak, and they only served to make him annoyed.

"Ought to be thanking me for coming after you, you know," he told her as he stepped around a pile of debris. "You'd never have made it out of here alive…if that was even your intention. Bloody walking contradiction is what you are. One minute you're begging for your life, the next you're willing to throw it away on some great drooling lump of flesh and fangs that don't even know what a Slayer is."

The girl made an effort to lift her head. "Never…beg you…for anything."

Spike's lips twisted. "Yeah, right." He adjusted her over his shoulder and she groaned.

"Gonna' be sick," she said warningly, and the thought of her spilling her guts down his back had him dropping her like a rock, before he even thought about the fact that it was probably a trick.

The girl was stumbling, off running the second her feet touched down.

Spike's jaw tightened as he looked after her, an infuriated growl rising in his throat. He clamped his teeth together as he watched her disappear back the way they'd come, this time taking a different route.

He ought to just let her go. She was headed down a series of alleyways that ended in certain death. The packs of Vyrtek and Oryaggi that inhabited the empty, falling down structures would gnaw her bones for an early breakfast, and he could walk back home and forget about her until the next pain in the ass crossed his path.

It didn't sound like a half-bad plan, actually…

He dug in his pockets until he came up with his cigarettes and lighter, and lit up, staring into the darkness until he heard the inevitable, bloodcurdling scream.

The sound made him smile.

~*~

Buffy fled through the obstacle littered alleys, the shrieking sounds of the demons chasing her ringing in her ears.

She'd stumbled into a nest, just as the vampire had warned her she would. She'd instinctively snapped the delicate long neck of the primordial-looking gray demon that had lunged at her with a spinning kick, and had ended up being chased by a handful of others just like it, bigger ones that seemed to be out for vengeance. Their howling shrieks chilled her to the bone.

Her breath sobbed in her chest as she felt her foot slide on damp wooden debris. She almost fell, her hands still being tied behind her back not helping her balance any. She rounded another corner, only to be faced with yet another long alley. Had she come this way already? She couldn't tell; everything looked the same in the dark.

There was a scrabbling sound on the pavement behind her, and one of the demons moved in so close she could feel the stirring of air as it reached out for her, and missed. She didn't dare take the time to look back.

Buffy saw the dimly lit street she'd left the vampire on at the end of the alley, and put on a burst of desperate speed as she neared it. If she could get out into the open, free her hands, find some kind of weapon, maybe –

She winced as she ran headlong into Spike. She didn't really know it was him by seeing, but if she had any doubts, they disappeared right along with his exaggerated, overly-disgusted sounding sigh.

Buffy's gaze flickered up, caught the open expression of annoyance across his hard features, saw his blue eyes narrow with the frown that pulled his dark brows together over the bridge of his nose.

For having just managed to escape him, he looked extremely unhappy to see her all but back in his clutches, and for an instant she felt strangely insulted. Then she heard her demon pursuers crash around the corner, howling and shrieking and snarling, and she saw the vampire roll his eyes.

Buffy whirled around, breathing hard, eyes widening at the sight of four of the gray demons grouped several feet away, small heads moving sinuously on their necks as they sniffed the air and chirped at one another, angrily clicking and slashing their sharply curved claws. She realized they'd paused, and weren't coming any closer, and she took a few cautious steps back, her arm bumping the vampire's.

Spike made another sound of disgust and stepped away from her. "Well, lads, what are you waitin' for?" he called invitingly. "She's standin' right here. Come'n get it."

Buffy's mouth fell open as she turned her head to glare at the vampire, who just shrugged, and took a draw of the lit cigarette in his hand.

"More trouble than you're worth, Slayer. Besides, I let this lot have a tasty morsel now and again, they stay nice and peaceable-like when my kind have to pass through here."

Buffy looked back at the silver-eyed demons with a weak whimper. "B-but you said – "

Spike shook his head and flicked his cigarette away, exhaling smoke through his nose.

"Said what? Sorry, Buffy, pet, but I decided you're too high-maintenance a breed for me. Kennel's closed."

The demons slowly started forward, their beak-shaped snouts peeling back to reveal mottled green gums, and several jagged rows of teeth, similar to a shark's. The smell of rotten meat that accompanied their heaving breaths just about knocked Buffy over. She fought back a gag and immediately started looking around for a weapon. For all the debris she'd passed, there was nothing but a few fallen shingles and dented, rusted out trash cans immediately at hand.

"You - you're kidding, right? Trying to teach me some kind of lesson? You aren't really just going to go off and l-leave me here with them, right?" She contemplated running for a minute, but look at how far that had gotten her. She risked a look over her shoulder at the vampire, only to discover that he'd disappeared from where he'd been standing.

Feeling oddly betrayed, Buffy whipped her head back around just as the pack of demon's rushed her.

Before she even knew what was happening, an arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her backward. She stumbled against a hard male back before she steadied herself, and looked up in confusion to see the vampire standing in front of her, blocking her from the demons with his body.

What the - ?

"She's mine," she heard Spike say, totally without conviction. "Any of you lot touches her, I kill you, got it?"

One of the demons chattered loudly, and Spike shook his head. "No good, mate. She's too skinny for your tastes anyway – what say I send you a nice juicy toddler in a few days, eh?"

The demon made a sound between a snarl and squawk, but slowly began to withdraw. In a moment the gray monsters were gone, and Spike growled, and turned on her, hands raised, his fangs bared. He looked like he wanted to kill her.

With her muddled mind, all Buffy could think of to say was a totally appalled, "You aren't really going to feed them a baby, are you?"

~*~

"Master! The Slayer is missing!" a guard was shouting when they arrived back at the warehouse.

"S'alright," Spike called back in bored amusement,  "I've got her." He shoved the Slayer ahead of him, watching the beaten girl stumble and fall into a crumpled, exhausted pile on the floor.

The guard rushed up, wincing in pain and eyeing the Slayer. Even though she was clearly incapacitated, Spike noticed he careful to give her a wide berth as he approached. "I-I don't know how she got away. She moved so quickly! Three of the others were slain, and I just woke up. I think she dislocated my fucking shoulder."

Spike looked the guard over. He had a black eye and a bloodied lip, and seemed to be nursing much more than just a dislocated shoulder. A ragged strip of muscle and splintered bone showed at the jointure of his neck and shoulder.

Clearly he'd dangerously underestimated the extent of her natural abilities. She'd taken down three of his best, and probably permanently crippled a fourth…and all without so much as a splinter in sight. If she'd had a weapon, she probably could have taken down the Vyrtek's back in that alley, too, even if her hands had been tied.

Clever little bitch.

He had the feeling he was going to regret his impulsive decision to let her live.

Spike looked down at the unconscious girl and mock-sighed. "Well, now. It's clear I can't trust anyone but me with your precious self, Slayer." He glanced over at the guard. "She'll be down for a while. I'm going out to eat something before I lose it and finish what I started on her."

"Perhaps you should finish it, Master."

Spike looked up to see Lucius towering over him, a smug glint in his eyes. He lifted a brow and deliberately ignored him, speaking again to the other guard. "Get somebody to haul her up to my room. And don't forget to use those soddin' chains on her this time."

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Buffy awoke with a start, a sudden wrenching from sleep that left her heart racing and her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn't remember what she'd been dreaming, but for some reason she was in pain. Not unbearable pain, but…

She was on her stomach, eyes closed, her left hand fisted next to her face. It took her a moment to pin down the discomfort she was feeling. She felt like she was burning up all over. Opening her eyes, slowly, she forced her hand open, and stared blearily at the bloody red half-moons dotting the palm. The tiny wounds stung fiercely.

She'd been dreaming about something bad, then.

"Slayer," hissed an unfamiliar voice.

Buffy looked up, and saw the big vamp that had shot her the night before with the tranquilizer standing above her, arms crossed over his chest.

"You should be dead," he sneered, glaring at her with hatred in his yellow demon eyes.

She ignored him, trying to find the strength to pull herself up, only to discover that she was chained to a concrete floor, heavy manacles around her wrists and ankles. There wasn't enough length in the links for her to even stand up, so she pulled herself into a sitting position and scooted back against a wall, her exhausted muscles shivering with the effort.

The vampire was still talking. " If I had my way, you'd be dead right now. I'd have broken your back and thrown you to the fledglings…but the Master seems to have other plans for you."

"Lucky me," Buffy muttered under her breath, letting her eyes flicker around the room. Something was wrong with her; she didn't feel right, not that she had since this whole mess had started. Her vision was fuzzy and distorted, and her hearing was weird, like everything was coming at her down a narrow tunnel.

Ignoring the vampire, she distractedly looked around. She hadn't seen this room before, but from the messy look of the rusty red bed clothes, and the scattered overabundance of black garments and empty bottles strewn everywhere, she surmised she must be in Spike's room. It gave her the creeps to even think about why…and why he just happened to have chains in his bedroom.

Ew.

She began to discreetly yank on the chains, searching for any kind of weak spot.

"Understand this, Slayer – if you try to escape again, I'll take great pleasure in hunting you down and making certain you do not have anything left with which to escape upon."

Feeling increasingly disassociated with her surroundings, Buffy looked up at the vampire with a deliberate eye-roll. "Yeah, whatever," she forced past her dry throat. "I could so take you."

The vampire drew back a little, looking surprised, but then the sneer returned to his face. "I have lived for over four centuries, girl. I would break you in half."

Buffy bit back a painful smile as she felt a link begin to bend and give. Having super powers was mighty handy after all. Let her get her hand free and he'd see who'd be breaking whom. "Why don't you try it, then? Or are you scared of the Slayer?"

The big vampire's nostrils flared, but otherwise he didn't respond to her taunt.

The room was silent for long minutes while the vampire stood watch, and Buffy strained against her bonds. Finally, the link snapped, and it seemed loud in the quiet room.

The vampire charged her.

~*~

It seemed like a lot of time had passed.

Buffy woke up feeling extremely weak, and wasn't surprised to see Spike hovering over her. She also wasn't surprised to find her arms still chained, though she was currently in a bed. She squinted up at the vampire and asked hoarsely, "Lemme guess – still not dead?"

After three days and nights of watching her struggle through illness, Spike was almost relieved to see her wake up – the Slayer's silence was a definite improvement over her bloody mindless nattering on. He shook his head in the negative at her question.

"I'm told you made one hell of a scene the other night after I left," he said conversationally.

Her lips twitched, and for a moment some of the bleakness went out of her feverish gray-green eyes.

Spike tilted his head and studied her face. Her soft cheek was scratched and bruised, but quickly healing, and one corner of her mouth was still swollen.

"Lucius hurt you pretty bad," he commented in a cool voice, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Lucius?"

"Yeah, big Neanderthal-looking bloke, stands up to about here?" Spike's hand lifted to the air above his head.

 Buffy's memory was fuzzy, but some things she could still remember clearly. "Oh…the hairy guy with the low forehead, and the uni-brow?"

Spike nodded, amused by her description. "Yeah, that'd be him."

She swallowed with difficulty, and brought a shaky hand up to her jaw. "Yeah, he hurt me, I guess. Not as much as I hurt him," she promised grimly.

"Yeah – saw the bone sticking out of his leg. Nice piece of work there."

The Slayer grinned smugly, but winced when the skin pulled over a healing cut on her lip. "Oh, I got him in a worse place, too, believe me. Even if I hadn't broken his leg, he'd still have been walking funny for a while, anyway – vampire or not."

"Yeah, well…you won't have to worry about him for a while. Don't think he'll be up to much of anything for some time. 'Sides, I told him I'd break him if he laid hands on you again."

Buffy looked up at him in disbelief. She lifted her arms to give the chains around her wrists a pointed clank. "You hurt me all the time. Why shouldn't he?"

Spike blinked a couple of times, then scowled and took a hasty step back from the bed.. "Because nobody touches you except me, that's why." He went to the door. "I'll have something sent up, if you think you can manage to eat without maiming anyone or trying to escape. Now you're awake, maybe you can start feeding your own bloody self."

~*~

It was nearly a week before she could attempt to leave again.

With one last glance around the room, she slipped out into the darkness of the warehouse.

Buffy made her way through the ominous silence and out onto the catwalk. With the guard talking to another vampire at the other end of the platform, she carefully but quickly lowered herself over the rail and dropped to the floor.

She could hear the sounds of music more clearly as she neared her goal. When she came up on the corner, she peered around it to see a small group of vamps seated on some crates, playing cards and drinking.

Once past them she could follow the other corridor she'd passed before - hopefully to her freedom. Although for all she knew it could lead to the bathroom…

Buffy studied her position for a few minutes, then decided the best thing to do would be to get as close to the wall as possible. She wouldn't be nearly as visible there if she moved through the room.

Quickly, quietly, she sprinted toward the opposite wall. When she reached it her heart beat so hard in her chest she had to wait a moment for it to calm, afraid the vampires would hear. Finally she began to creep forward. Behind her she heard voices. She heard Spike's voice, and he sounded happy about something – Buffy figured he wouldn't be in a good mood for very much longer. He was going to be totally pissed when he found his room empty, and she didn't want to be around when he came looking for her.

The voices grew nearer, and Buffy moved, casting quick, nervous glances at the guards. She barely dared to breathe. It sounded like Spike was heading this way; in a minute he'd reach her, and she have to make a run for it…

'And that option worked so well last time!'

Buffy's hand touched a doorknob. She tugged, felt the door open a crack, and slipped inside.

The steps came closer, then the voices faded, and she was left alone in the darkness of the corridor. Buffy rummaged in her pocket for the lighter she'd found in a pair of Spike's discarded jeans – honestly, did he ever do his laundry? – and flicked it open, grateful for the small amount of light it gave.

She followed the strange corridor, wrinkling her nose at the 'old' odor of it. If she could just find a manhole, a sewer entrance, something…she couldn't go back to that place. It'd been maybe a week, and already the solitariness of it was killing her…

The silence lasted perhaps all of five minutes more before she heard a loud roar from far behind her.

Uh-oh.

"I don't know why you bother to keep trying to escape me," Spike's furious voice echoed down the long, twisting  dark corridor after her. "You're never going to see the light of day again, you know that, don't you?"

Knowing he was after her again had her hands shaking so bad she dropped her only source of light. She dropped down and desperately groped around for it in the blackness, but to no avail. The lighter was gone.

Buffy got up continued edging onward. There were treacherous cracks in the stone floor, and some abrupt drop-offs, and Spike had the advantage in the total darkness. She could picture him hunting her down the twisting corridor, face ridged and twisted, all glittering gold eyes and white, jagged teeth…

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Spike was ready to murder her.

No, maybe murder wasn't quite the right thing to do. He could always sell her, he supposed. Slayer blood, Slayer bones – hell, he knew a demon in Korea who'd pay a handsome price for just her hide. He didn't have to keep her alive, after all. He could make good use of her, and be well rid of the annoyance. He still couldn't understand why he hadn't let the demons have her after her first escape attempt, or why he hadn't just let her die in his bed days before. All he knew was that she had moved him somehow, with her innocence, in a way he couldn't – and didn't want to – understand. That made her unbelievably dangerous.

He wished he'd never laid eyes on her.

~*~

Buffy gone a fair enough distance, but Spike was a trained hunter – he could scent her. In what seemed like moments he had her in his arms, back against his chest, arms trapped under the crushing hold of his. She struggled persistently against the armlock.

"Keep fighting me and I'll have to knock you unconscious," he warned through clenched teeth.

Panicked, Buffy rammed her head back into his chin. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" she sneered.

"'Course I would," Spike growled.

Buffy had never really been physically aggressive up until her parent's had been killed, but now that she knew what she was, her instincts kept exposing her long-hidden violent streak. She kept up the struggle.

Spike apparently, had had enough. "We'll bloody well do it your way, then."

"No – wait!" Buffy went still, her chin dropping onto her heaving chest. "I'll do whatever you want. Just…don't knock me out again. I'm scared I…won't wake up."

Spike was quiet for a long minute before he let her go. "Fine. Walk. If you're shamming me, I'll drop you in a crevice and forget about you, hear?"

"Yes." Buffy held her sore ribs in her hands and miserably began to shuffle off, listening to the vampire following along behind her.

~*~

Spike was furious. He didn't know how he held onto his temper as he directed the girl back up and out into the warehouse, and led her into his audience room. He closed the door and barred it once they were inside, and then the demon came unleashed.

"I should never have let you live, y'know," he said in a low growl as she turned to look up at him. He got an immense jolt of satisfaction when her eyes went wide at the sight of his gold eyes and sharp fangs. "Then I actually cared for you when you were hurt. You – a bloody Slayer. I knew better. Guess it's just a bad habit of mine. Just like Dru. I thought I'd learned my lesson then, y'know? When people think you're the slightest bit soft, they walk all over you."

Buffy's eyes flickered all over the room, looking for some type of defense. There! She darted backwards and grabbed a wicked-looking dagger from where it had been bizarrely stuck in the wooden arm of a richly upholstered chair. She held it out in front of her, began backing up at the look in his eyes, but in another second Spike had her on her back, his knees bruising her shoulders, weighing her down so she couldn't move, or kick out. He looked down at her, evil gold eyes gleaming with satisfaction – and then they came to rest on her hair, which was covering half her face.. The sharp blades of his cheeks became more pronounced as he sucked his cheeks in, eyes thoughtful. "Can't fight proper with all that ruddy hair flyin' in your face, can you?" he finally observed. "Think maybe I can help you out with that, Slayer."

The words made her eyes widen even further. Her lips fell open.

Spike still had the dagger she'd attacked him with in his hand, and his lips twisted in a snarl of a smile, exposing his fangs as he held her chin brutally tight in one hand, and proceeded to hack off a good bit of the long blond locks fanned out on the concrete floor around her.

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When he was done, he backed off her, and Buffy numbly sat up, shaking in reaction to seeing that sharp, flashing blade repeatedly landing so close to her head. With trembling fingers she reached up to feel her hair, and then the tears spilled over. Where it had once almost reached her waist, it now barely brushed her shoulders. She sniffled, and suddenly Spike reached down and yanked her up onto her feet by her arm. For some reason he was furious again, but his face had lost it's ridges. It didn't make him any less scary, especially since his face kept darkening as the seconds ticked by.

"Stop crying," he demanded in an angry hiss, shaking her. "It's your fault, you shouldn't have tried to run away again! You think I'm not going to punish you for it?"

"I thought you said you were going to nail my feet to the floor, not re-style my hair," she finally said, the sarcastic humor in her bitterly calm voice surprising them both.                                                                                

Spike shook his head and suddenly leaned over, throwing the red runner on the floor before his chair out of the way. A large square of age-spotted steel lay imbedded in the concrete, and he tugged hard on the iron ring set in it. The hatch opened with a screech, and Buffy got chills when she saw the flat blackness beyond it. A tinny-scented cold breeze slammed into her, making her shudder.

She looked down at Spike's face and started backing away, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist, and to her horror, yanked her right over the opening and simply dropped her in.

She hit the floor much sooner than she'd expected, and despite her loss of breath, scrambled up onto her feet, barely noting that the floor was dry stone, and not swamp-like like she'd dreaded.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Let me out!"

Spike stood above her and took his time lighting a cigarette, his hand curled around the flame of his lighter to protect it from the cold breeze. "It's your own fault, y'know. If you weren't all set on bein' such a scheming little bitch, I'd have tried to be all right to you. You can give up escaping from here, pet – there's no way out. Maybe a few weeks in here will make you appreciate what else I've offered."

"What else? Life alone in a tiny, airless room, water from the sink, and half-cooked oatmeal twice a day? I don't think so!"

"We'll see what you think about it in a few days, love – say, three? I reckon that half-cooked oatmeal is going to start looking like a bloody gourmet meal by then – that is, if you don't decide on a sudden hankering for the rats down there, first."

Buffy's eyes dropped to flicker around the dark space, envisioning hundreds of beady little eyes staring at her.

Eat a rat? Yuck! As if!

"Gotta' go, Slayer. Hope you enjoy your stay."

Buffy realized it was going to be pitch black when he closed the trapdoor, but she tried to shrug off her long-standing terror of the dark, and made a joke instead. "What, no nightlight?"

Spike smiled thinly, and reaching up, he slowly pulled the half-finished cigarette from between his lips. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger for a moment, dark humor glinting in his eyes, before he flicked it down past her head. A stream of white-hot orange ash filtered stingingly against the skin of her forearm before she could move aside.

Buffy looked at the glowing tip of the cigarette on the dirt floor, and then turned her face back up to his, which was framed in the candlelit square of the room behind him. She glared at him fiercely, but he only cocked his head at her and rose from his crouching position, hand still on the door, preparing to let it drop closed.

"One day I'm going to kill you for doing this," she told him harshly, becoming a little panicked at the thought of being left alone.

Spike's shadowed blue eyes lit with understanding, and he gave her mocking look. "Aw, is the wee Slayer afraid of the dark?"

Buffy crossed her arms, stared up at him with a dirt smudged face, and said nothing.

His voice lost its teasing edge. "Then you shouldn't have tried to run away from me twice. By rights I coulda' killed you the first time."

"My God, do you have abandonment issues! But you know, you really should have," she agreed in a darkly promising tone. "You should have killed me when I asked."

"Hey, you're the one asking for death, here. You say I have issues? Cheer up, then. I can promise you, by the time I let you out of this place, you won't give a sod about being left alone in the dark. Fact is, time'll come when you bloody well crave it, just like the rest of us."

Buffy's rage rose to the surface, showed plainly on her face. Her fine nostrils flared as she shook her shorn hair out of her eyes. "I'll never be anything like you."

"You're wrong, you know." Spike said this in such a serious manner that it frightened her. "You're just like me. You're as much of a killer, as much of a monster as I am. Who you think it is that gives the little demon sprogs nightmares, girl? S'not me."

Killer... Hiding a shudder, Buffy turned her back on him, hugging herself. "Go to Hell," she told him in a hate-filled whisper.

Spike's voice was cruel, heavy, and soft like suffocating black velvet wrapping around her when he spoke again. "Already there, pet, didn't you know? And lucky girl that you are, you're right here with me."

Rusty hinges squeaked. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut tight so she wouldn't have to see the light disappear.

"Welcome to my world, Slayer."

The trapdoor slammed shut, and Buffy was left in the dark with only the scent of burning tobacco, and the ringing sound of metal on metal echoing in her ears.

~*~

To be Continued in Chapter Six

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Next: For a long time Buffy stood in a corner of her drafty prison, ear's straining for the sound of the rats Spike had claimed inhabited the place. After a while she thought that maybe if she found the source of the breeze, she might find some avenue of escape. She began running her hands over the walls, which were made of cold, wet stone, shuffling her feet along the floor in an effort to scare off anything small, furry, and bite-y in her path.

It didn't take long for her to realize that there really was no escape. The breeze came from small fissures in the stone, but when she'd tried to dig the rocks loose, she'd discovered it to be hopeless. The walls were solid.

Sinking down onto the floor, she covered her face with her hands, willing away her fear of the dark. Looking for a way out had kept her mind off it, but now that there was obviously no way out, it was closing in on her.

God, she hated Spike.

Buffy drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her shins, wishing her mom was with her again. She'd always been the only one able to chase the monsters away…

…but she was gone, now, and Buffy was slowly coming to understand that no matter how much she might want her mother, there were reasons why people shouldn't come back from the dead.

~*~

(Thanks for reading!)