Wow, almost SIXTY REVIEWS already! I didn't think this story would capture many people's attention, but I hope I'm wrong! Thanks to all those who reviewed...and now a few personal acknowledgments:

gidgetgirl- Thank you SO MUCH for nominating this story! Your reviews just brighten my day, and I love your views on where this story could go. Thank you!

Keifer- Glad to see you're hooked!

shahid- Your reviews make me laugh aloud! I love your enthusiasm for this story, and I hope I don't disappoint. I'm trying to keep up with you requests, so keep reviewing!

Madison- I'm writing as fast as I can so hang in there!

ms trick and Mad Kat- Where are you? I miss your encouragement!

A/N- I'm going to try a different style in this chapter, just for something different, where the scenes go from one to the other and explain what happened in between in the next chapter. Please review and tell me whether it works or not!

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Chapter 10

* * * *

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"Of course I am!" Buffy replied resolutely as she grasped her bed sheet, "My mum thinks I've been kidnapped, for God's sake. I can't just leave her grieving for me while I'm lazing about here."

Willow sighed and grabbed the other side of her sheet, helping her friend remake her bed. "Well, just hurry back, okay?"

Buffy smiled sadly, "I'll try," She pulled the sheet and tucked it under the mattress. "There, done." One look at the morose redhead caused her to collect Willow in a tight hug. "I'll be back in a week, promise."

"What if your mum doesn't want you to come back?" Willow asked as they released each other.

"Well, I have to go to school somewhere won't I?" Buffy asked pointedly, "And if Wesley's idea works, then she won't let me go back to the school I'm in now."

"Yeah, I suppose." she agreed reluctantly.

"Good." Buffy said as she opened the door to their room and stepped into the hallway, "Now I've got to go, so I'll see you later, okay?"

"Buff," said a familiar voice from behind her, "You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye now, were you?"

Buffy grinned and turned around, "No, Xand, wouldn't do that to you." She found herself enfolded in a big bear hug.

"Gonna miss you," he grumbled with a crest-fallen expression.

"Miss you too," she replied wistfully, reluctantly moving from his grip. "And you Oz. Where's Cordy?"

"Where is Cordelia usually?" Xander said as he rolled his eyes.

Buffy smiled slightly, "I didn't see her in front of the mirror."

They laughed and Xander shook his head, "She's hitting on Gunn in the library with that Harmony girl."

"Oh, okay. Tell her I said bye," she said, and with one more apologetic glance at her friends, she turned and walked away.

* * * *

"You know what your doing, Slayer?"

"Off by heart, Spike," she replied as she dismounted his bike. He gave her a withering look. They had left Angel's School for the Gifted that morning, her legs gripping the bike tightly and her arms wrapped around his waist tight enough to cause some bruises. She'd spent the ride telling Spike about her mom and dad, and by the way Buffy described them, he thought Joyce sounded like a damn fine woman. Hank, on the other hand, didn't get Spike's approval. Anyone who needed to fight with a woman like Buffy's mum was a bleedin' idiot in his books.

"Right then. Go reassure your olds," he nodded, then gunned the accelerator and drove off in a screeching off wheels.

Buffy stood on the side of the road, watching the bike disappear around the corner. With a sigh, she turned to face the house that had been her home for her whole life. Everything looked the same. The only thing that had changed since she'd left was...well, her.

Guilt washed over her as she stared at her childhood home. Inside, her mother and father were more than likely sitting by the phone waiting desperately for news about her whereabouts. Meanwhile, she had been schooling in the art of Slaying mystical demons and vampires. And she'd never thought of how her disappearing act had affected her parents. Despite their differences- and fighting- she knew that her parents loved her more than anything else. How would they have felt when they went to wake their only daughter and found an empty bed and no sign of her?

Buffy took a deep breath and went over her story in her mind. Although the though of lying to her parents made her feel ill, it couldn't be helped. It would do no good to anyone if she told them the truth and found herself locked in a mental asylum. So, this story would have to do.

She stepped nervously up the path, and climbed the three steps to the door. Listening for the familiar yells and screaming insults, she was surprised to hear silence. She raised her hand to the smooth wood, but it remained stagnant in the air. It dropped to her side, but with a quick shake of her head she raised it, hesitated for only a second before bringing it into contact with her front door.

She could hear her knock echo through the house behind the door and bit her lip in apprehension. From somewhere inside, soft footsteps padded the ground, and Buffy straightened stiffly.

The door was opened and Buffy saw her mother's drawn and weary expression a spilt second before her mother saw her. Her eyes were rimmed with red and black bags circled the saddened eyes.

Joyce Summers glanced up at her visitor and froze. It isn't her, she thought tediously; my eyes are tricking me. But the image of her daughter didn't dissolve as she half expected it to. As the reality came crashing down on her a strangled sob escaped her lips, and she collapsed to the ground in overwhelmed relief.

"Mom!" Buffy called in fright as her mother collapsed in the doorway. She knelt beside Joyce and circled her arms around her recently slimmed body, offering comfort and support. She raised her head and met her daughter's eyes.

"B-Buffy?" she whispered in disbelief, her eyes hungrily drinking in the familiar sight of her daughter.

"It's me, mom." Buffy whispered back, "I'm home."

* * * *

"So, let's go through this one more time," the rounded police officer said excruciatingly slow.

Buffy sighed in repressed frustration. This was the fourth time she had been through it, and each time it was becoming harder to lay the facts- if that's what you would call a cleverly devised story- down correctly.

The first twenty minutes after her return had been spent in her mother's shaking arms and holding her while she cried. Once the hysterics and shock had worn off, she had been barraged with questions and demanded answers. Buffy had quietly suggested that they call the police and take her off the missing person's list before commencing what she knew would be a grueling long answer to her whereabouts. The police had insisted on coming to hear her story and begin the investigation on her kidnapper, but from the story she was about to tell them, Buffy knew they wouldn't get far.

Her mother sat by her side and gripped her arm tightly, afraid that her daughter would somehow disappear again if she let go. The police had been here for two hours already, and still didn't understand Wesley's apparently 'foolproof' plan. The officer sitting opposite her in the living room was around fifty, had a reseeding, gray hairline and was hugely over weight. His large frame was taking up nearly the whole couch and his poor, younger and thinner partner was forced to stand against the doorframe.

"Now," said the officer whom Buffy had dubbed Tubby, "You were doing your homework in your room on Friday the eleventh of March, when you heard a crashing sound, which we assume was the window breaking. Before you managed to get a look of your assailant, you were knocked unconscious. Is that correct?"

Buffy exhaled deeply, trying to gain control of her irritation. "For the twentieth time, yes."

"Buffy," her mother reprimanded, "These kind gentlemen are trying to help you. The least you could do is act polite!"

"Sorry," she mumbled, sicker of this charade she was playing than of the officer's annoying questions.

"Right, then you woke up in a small room at an inn that you don't know the name of, in a town that's name you never thought to find out, and fled without thinking of calling the police."

"I told you, I didn't remember who I was," Buffy replied. The story was beginning to sound ridiculous to her own ears, and she silently fumed at Wesley's assumption that Sunnydale police weren't bright enough to question it.

"Okay, and when you did remember, you jumped on a bus without paying and came straight home. You were unconscious for a week, you say?" The shrill ringing of a phone interrupted Buffy's answer. The thin, nervous looking officer turned a shade of red and drew out a mobile from his pocket. He quickly left the room, only to appear moments later.

"The test came back positive," he confirmed, "Buffy was drugged; that's why she was unconscious all this time. Her abductor issued her the drug probably every twelve hours. Memory loss is a common side effect after extensive use so her story is plausible."

Tubby nodded in relief; obviously he didn't want to be here any more than mother and daughter did. He shook Joyce's hand, offered Buffy free counseling if she was traumatized- to which she abruptly refused- and left with his scrawny partner. Once they departed, Joyce turned to her and pulled her into a long hug.

"I missed you so much, honey," she whispered.

"Sorry, mom," she replied softly.

"God, baby, it's not your fault!" Joyce murmured into her shoulder. Once they released each other, Buffy gave her mother a quizzical glance.

"Mom, where's dad?" she asked and instantly regretted it as her mother's face crumbled. Fresh tears fell from her eyes and Buffy grabbed her shoulders to support her. "Mom?"

"Buffy," she said, "Your father...he's-he's gone."

"Gone?" she asked perplexed.

Joyce gave her a bitter smile, and muttered equally bitter, "He's left me, left us, Buffy."

Buffy heart jumped into her throat, "What do you mean, left us?"

"I mean he's run away with his secretary and left us in the dirt." Her voice was filled with pain, loathing and acrimony.

"D-dad? N-no, he wouldn't do that!" she cried in denial.

"I'm so sorry, honey, it wasn't you. It was u-us. We've been having problems for a while now, and he filed for divorce a couple of days ago." Joyce swallowed deeply, "With you gone, he didn't have a reason to stay."

"The BASTARD!" Buffy screamed as she twisted away from her mother's touch.

"Buffy!" her mother breathed in shock.

"How could he leave- leave me a-and you!" she shouted in rage. "Did he think I was dead? I bet he wished I were dead. That way he could go screw his secretary without feeling guilty! Did he even care what happened to me? Did he care how you would cope without a daughter or husband? The...the..." she floundered as it all became clear.

He didn't. He didn't care about her, or her mother. He didn't care if she was dead, or if Joyce would cope. Did he even love her? Buffy felt the burning tears threaten to fall but forced them back. When she gazed at her mother, she realized her mistake. Joyce looked horrified and distressed. Of course she would have already asked herself these question many times over, and Buffy had involuntarily shoved them in her face.

Buffy informed her mother that she was going to her room. Joyce nodded numbly, and watched her daughter hurtle up the stairs. Buffy fought the urge to cry and instead, flopped onto her bed. Staring at the ceiling, her thoughts spun in the same vortex repeatedly.

How could he...did he care...was he thinking of her...did he love her...how could he...did he care...was he thinking of her...did he love her... how could he...did he care...was he thinking of her...did he love her...

She bit back the sobs and twisted onto her stomach. So much had changed and her life was spinning out of control...out of her control. A week ago her life had been normal: she was popular, pretty and idolized in school. Her friends were great, school was school and her family was- well, not perfect but good none the less- and life was normal. Now, she was the Slayer, she went to school with witches and werewolves, she was taught by demons and now her parents were divorcing.

The urge to cry was strengthening, and her power to hold them back was slowly ebbing away. But the tears did not fall; she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. He didn't deserve tears.

There was a knock at her door and she turned her neck to see her mom poke her head through the door.

"Uh, Buffy?" she said uncertainly, "I need to discuss something with you."

Buffy felt her throat constrict. What else could possible happen to ruin her life?

"Well, after all that's-that's happened, I think it might be best if we...move to L.A."

"Move? To L.A?" Buffy repeated, as though trying out the words for the first time.

"This place doesn't have many good memories, does it? I feel it best if we start over, and that would mean a new place," she replied sitting beside her daughter. "Now, I know you won't be happy moving away from her friends, but I feel L.A may be good for us, and you'll make some new friends eventually. Now don't get angry..."

"Angry?" Buffy interrupted, a smile spreading across her lips, "Mom, this is the best news I've had in a long time!"

Joyce shot her a look of surprise, but it was soon replaced by one of relief, "You want to go? Oh, Buffy, I swear things will get better. I promise."

Buffy smiled as her mother left the room, but a frown soon took over when she remembered her father's betrayal. With an angry shrug, she switched her stereo on, closing her eyes as the loud, fast beat of the music filled her. Staring at the ceiling, she had an uneasy notion that she had lain angrily on this bed with her music blaring the night Spike had come and saved her. She sat up quickly, and peered out the window.

Nothing disturbed the silent night, but she could feel the evil that wandered the streets, searching for their next victim.