Buffy wrinkled her nose as she stepped out of the car, and took in the snow falling all around them. It was bitter cold, and the wind whipped at her face. She pulled the thick sweater closer to her body, and followed quietly behind Liam and her mother, up the front walk, and waited on the front porch while her mother rang the bell.
Soon, an elderly woman came to the door, and smiled at them, welcoming them into her home. Buffy quickly darted inside, and stomped the snow from her feet on the front rug, showing the well-worn sneakers on her feet. Thin socks covered her ankles, but with the detested dress she wore, her shins had been exposed to the biting wind, and were red from the chill.
Her long hair was plaited back in two braids that reached the middle of her back, and her bangs had been freshly cut, and lay just above her eyebrows. Liam was dressed in his Sunday suit, and his dark brown hair was slicked down, the unruly spikes laying still for once. In front of them, her mother stood stiffly in her long black wool coat, with the black dress on underneath.
Joyce's sedate low-heeled black shoes clacked against the hardwood floor, and the sound seemed to echo in Buffy's head. Another thing that struck her, was the scent of floor polish hanging in the air. Together, the sound and smell would forever remind her of this day, when they came to live with her grandmother.
"Hello, Mother. I wanted to thank you for allowing us to move in with you." Joyce's voice was soft as she looked down at her hands, folded in front of her. Joyce's mother, Sarah, clucked her tongue with a disapproving gleam in her eye when she moved her beady eyes over the two children.
"We can't just neglect our Christian duty, Joyce. Show the children up to your brother's old room. There is a bunk bed set up in there. Your father has been working hard for their arrival. I trust the flight wasn't to hard?" Sarah's voice was stern and cold as she talked to her only daughter, and not once did she try to speak with the children.
"Yes, of course mother." Joyce motioned for the children to take off the heavy sweaters they were wearing in the place of heavy winter coats. In hushed tones, with Sarah's eagle eye watching, Joyce motioned to the children to remove their shoes, before she started up the stairs. Buffy turned her head to look at her grandmother, searching for a warm look, a loving gesture. Icy blue eyes stared back at her.
Late Summer, 1966Buffy walked quickly from the catholic school she attended, her eyes straight forward and fixed on the house that she had lived in for nearly two years now. She never thought of it as home, however. It was just where she lived. Home was in Sunnydale, with her friends, where it had been fun. Here, it was cold, and bitter, and quiet. Always quiet.
For nearly a year, the circumstances had been tolerable, because Buffy had her grandfather, a lovable man who was thrilled with his only two grandchildren. He had died in the fall of '64, however, leaving Joyce, Liam, and Buffy all alone with Grandmother Sarah. After they had moved in, Sarah had sat all three of them down, and explained the rules of the house.
It must be quiet, so as not to upset her migraines. It must be clean at all times. No dish must sit unwashed. No clothing must go unwashed. Beds were to be made each morning, and the linens were to be changed each Saturday. Sunday was the Sabbath, and therefore, they would fast all day, and spend their time in mass. Each night, homework would be completed before dinner, or the child in question did not eat that night.
The list went on, strict and harsh to the children. Buffy soon realized that Sarah had detested Joyce's choice in a husband, and had disowned her when they were married. In Sarah's eyes, the children represented the marriage and their father. Whenever given the opportunity, Sarah was harsh and unrelenting with the children. Buffy was soon shaped into the proper young woman she should be. Gone from her wardrobe were the pants, shorts, and sneakers. In their place, proper dresses and skirts with blouses.
Buffy's pale legs were now encased in a long red plaid skirt, with a white long sleeve blouse. Her hair was swept back into a high ponytail, with the end curving into a single curl. Schoolbooks were clutched to her chest as she approached the front steps. Before going in, however, she stopped to check the mail. She occasionally would get a letter in the mail from Sunnydale, but she had a sneaking suspicion that if her grandmother got the mail first, she wouldn't see the letters.
She often wondered just how many letters had gone missing over the years she had lived there. Opening the box on the front step, she smiled brightly to see an envelope addressed to her. Unfortunately, when she moved it, under it was a letter addressed to her mother from the school. Never a good sign, she thought. She resisted the temptation to open the letter, though, and shut the box, leaving the mail in it.
Carefully remaining as silent as possible, Buffy removed her hard-soled black leather dress shoes, and slipped her feet into soft-soled white slippers. Her grandmother had purchased them on a whim, a rare whim, because she was certain they would keep her granddaughters feet more silent. Since that day, Buffy was required to wear them while in the house.
Scurrying up the hard wood staircase, Buffy quickly crossed to her bedroom, which she previously shared with Liam. Liam had graduated from school this past spring, and had left them to move back to Sunnydale. He and a few of their old friends shared an apartment, while all of them attended the university in town.
Buffy was upset with her brother, because she had not heard from him in weeks, and hadn't seen him since the day after graduation. He had taken her aside, and told her that it was only a few more years until she would be out of the house, and there would be a place for her with him, no matter where he was at the time. He promised to write her often, but made no promises to visit. They both understood that they wouldn't be seeing each other again until she graduated.
In her room, she had a large diary that was dated from June 1966, to June 1971. Buffy would meticulously count down the days each night, labeling just how many days were left until she graduated. Buffy had just started her freshmen year of high school the week before, and had already vowed to work as hard as she could, take on as much work as she was able, and complete it as quickly as possible. The school had started a program two years before, where you could start working towards the next grade as soon as you completed all work required for your current grade.
Buffy's plan was to graduate a year early if she could, and move to Sunnydale in June of 1970, but that would mean a lot of work. Buffy was up for it, however, and was actually looking forward to the reward at the end of the journey. She would do anything at all to get her away from her grandmother. Even her mother wasn't help against that harridan.
Quietly shutting the door behind her, Buffy flopped down on the lower bunk of the bunk beds she had shared with Liam for 2 ½ years. She looked at the handwriting on the front, and smiled. Willow, she thought, as she opened the letter to read about Sunnydale's first week back to school, and how the gang had adjusted to high school.
Buffy sighed sadly as she read on, her thoughts back to the time she was so happy.