buffyangel4eva- what would the story be without the gang? they'll make an entrance in the next chapter for sure. angel's relationship with his mother was kind of (but not totally) based off my relationship with my father... it fit into this story.
mannielf18- the clothes sentences just happened, lol.
urangel- thank you. buffy's not going to be dirt poor, because her mother still owns the gallery. although i know i didn't mention that in the first or second or third chapter, it'll be mentioned now.
james lee- i don't know how often my updates are going to be cause i'm going through a lot right now, but i'll try.
lynn- yah, i know what you mean. there's really no point in writing a buffy fic without her at least being the slayer (although i happen to have one, so i'm being somewhat of a hipocrit, but...lol)
n170017- thank you. i try my best to write them.
The first bell at Peterson's Private School rang, and Buffy slowly made her way up the stairs to the front doors. She didn't want to face her friends, she didn't know what to tell them. Or if she should tell them at all. She knew that Cordelia wouldn't stand by her, the only person Cordelia cared about was herself. And her posse of friends would surely do the same as her.
Fellow students passed her quickly by in the hallway. It was like time was speeding by her, and she was frozen. She was in another world, lost in her thoughts.
The last two days had gone by too fast. Everything she knew her whole life, was simply gone. Just like that. How could her father be so stupid? Did he not know the pain that his "small mistakes" would cause? Or did he even care?
She felt so alone. Her mother had put in extra hours at the Gallery to earn some more money, leaving Buffy alone all day, till late those nights. Her father had never really been around, so his absence was almost expected.
"Miss Summers," the principal said, coming up behind her. "Shouldn't you be in class?"
"I was just on my way Mr. Leonard," Buffy said. "The last few days have just been..."
"You know how much I don't like personal matter being brought to school Miss Summers. So I suggest you suck it up, and deal with it. Everyone has problems, I'm sure if you ask your father, he'll snap his fingers and they'll be gone," Mr. Leonard said before walking away.
Buffy only stared after him, hurt by his words. Why is it that everyone thinks I'm all about money? Buffy thought, as she started to head to her class again. Just because my father is rich, full of himself and heartless, doesn't make me the same way. For once I'd like to not be judged by my parents money. Maybe the fact that we don't have it anymore will change the way people see me, for the better.
She opened the door to her classroom, and smiled at her teacher, who was staring at her. "Buffy Summers, would you care to explain yourself for so rudely interrupting my class?"
"I... I was late... Um... The um... Principal, he um..." Buffy stuttered.
"Take your seat. But see me after class," he said, and returned to his lecture.
Buffy looked down at her feet, embarrassed, as she walked in front of the class to get to her seat beside Cordelia. She sat down, and looked over at her friend.
"What's the real reason you're late?" Cordy asked.
"I just didn't feel like coming on time," Buffy said cooly, turning to look out the window.
She ignored the confused glare from Cordelia, and tried to focus on other things. The weather's nice.
Buffy was in her room, folding her clothes neatly and placing them inside her suitcases. She had four large ones sprawled out on her bed, and another two smaller ones resting on the floor.
There was a knock on her door, and she looked at it, then back at her suitcase, putting the shirt she held inside before going over to the door. She unlocked it, and opened it to see her mother standing in the hallway. She moved aside, and walked back to her bed, her mother following.
"I see you've started packing," Joyce said.
"Well, we are leaving in a few days. And I do have a lot of clothes," Buffy said.
"You may not have that problem," Joyce said. "We can't take all of these with us Buffy. The apartment, there isn't enough space."
"We can make some," Buffy said. "Please. I like my clothes. Lots."
"But clothes don't make the person Buffy, understand that."
"I do. But in a way, clothes do make the person. The first impression of a person at least. For example, if you see someone walking down the street in ripped clothes, you're not going to think very highly of them, because they obviously don't think very highly of themselves. But, if you see someone nicely dressed who take pride in what they wear, then you..."
"I get it," she said, touching her shoulder. "I'll make you a deal. You get rid of half of these clothes, and as soon as I make some money, I'll take you on a shopping spree."
"Mom, I can't ask you to do that," Buffy said.
"You're not asking, I'm offering. Take it or leave it."
Buffy nodded. "You're the best," she said, hugging Joyce, tightly.
"Ok honey, appreciate the affection, but you're cutting off my air supply," Joyce laughed, pulling away from her daughter. She looked down at Buffy, who was wiping away a tear. "We'll be alright. I still have my job. It's not much at the moment. But I really think they're going to give me a raise. Have faith."
"I love you mom."
"Oh I love you too baby," Joyce said, kissing her forehead. "I have more work to do at the Gallery. Are you ok here by yourself?"
Buffy nodded. "Yeah. I'll be ok. Go."
"Remember, I'm only a call away!" Joyce yelled as she left the room in a hurry.
Buffy fell back onto her bed. "Half my clothes. I can do this..."
a/n: sorry, there was no Angel. and it was short. but i will update soon, i just don't have time at the moment to write long chapters.
mannielf18- the clothes sentences just happened, lol.
urangel- thank you. buffy's not going to be dirt poor, because her mother still owns the gallery. although i know i didn't mention that in the first or second or third chapter, it'll be mentioned now.
james lee- i don't know how often my updates are going to be cause i'm going through a lot right now, but i'll try.
lynn- yah, i know what you mean. there's really no point in writing a buffy fic without her at least being the slayer (although i happen to have one, so i'm being somewhat of a hipocrit, but...lol)
n170017- thank you. i try my best to write them.
The first bell at Peterson's Private School rang, and Buffy slowly made her way up the stairs to the front doors. She didn't want to face her friends, she didn't know what to tell them. Or if she should tell them at all. She knew that Cordelia wouldn't stand by her, the only person Cordelia cared about was herself. And her posse of friends would surely do the same as her.
Fellow students passed her quickly by in the hallway. It was like time was speeding by her, and she was frozen. She was in another world, lost in her thoughts.
The last two days had gone by too fast. Everything she knew her whole life, was simply gone. Just like that. How could her father be so stupid? Did he not know the pain that his "small mistakes" would cause? Or did he even care?
She felt so alone. Her mother had put in extra hours at the Gallery to earn some more money, leaving Buffy alone all day, till late those nights. Her father had never really been around, so his absence was almost expected.
"Miss Summers," the principal said, coming up behind her. "Shouldn't you be in class?"
"I was just on my way Mr. Leonard," Buffy said. "The last few days have just been..."
"You know how much I don't like personal matter being brought to school Miss Summers. So I suggest you suck it up, and deal with it. Everyone has problems, I'm sure if you ask your father, he'll snap his fingers and they'll be gone," Mr. Leonard said before walking away.
Buffy only stared after him, hurt by his words. Why is it that everyone thinks I'm all about money? Buffy thought, as she started to head to her class again. Just because my father is rich, full of himself and heartless, doesn't make me the same way. For once I'd like to not be judged by my parents money. Maybe the fact that we don't have it anymore will change the way people see me, for the better.
She opened the door to her classroom, and smiled at her teacher, who was staring at her. "Buffy Summers, would you care to explain yourself for so rudely interrupting my class?"
"I... I was late... Um... The um... Principal, he um..." Buffy stuttered.
"Take your seat. But see me after class," he said, and returned to his lecture.
Buffy looked down at her feet, embarrassed, as she walked in front of the class to get to her seat beside Cordelia. She sat down, and looked over at her friend.
"What's the real reason you're late?" Cordy asked.
"I just didn't feel like coming on time," Buffy said cooly, turning to look out the window.
She ignored the confused glare from Cordelia, and tried to focus on other things. The weather's nice.
Buffy was in her room, folding her clothes neatly and placing them inside her suitcases. She had four large ones sprawled out on her bed, and another two smaller ones resting on the floor.
There was a knock on her door, and she looked at it, then back at her suitcase, putting the shirt she held inside before going over to the door. She unlocked it, and opened it to see her mother standing in the hallway. She moved aside, and walked back to her bed, her mother following.
"I see you've started packing," Joyce said.
"Well, we are leaving in a few days. And I do have a lot of clothes," Buffy said.
"You may not have that problem," Joyce said. "We can't take all of these with us Buffy. The apartment, there isn't enough space."
"We can make some," Buffy said. "Please. I like my clothes. Lots."
"But clothes don't make the person Buffy, understand that."
"I do. But in a way, clothes do make the person. The first impression of a person at least. For example, if you see someone walking down the street in ripped clothes, you're not going to think very highly of them, because they obviously don't think very highly of themselves. But, if you see someone nicely dressed who take pride in what they wear, then you..."
"I get it," she said, touching her shoulder. "I'll make you a deal. You get rid of half of these clothes, and as soon as I make some money, I'll take you on a shopping spree."
"Mom, I can't ask you to do that," Buffy said.
"You're not asking, I'm offering. Take it or leave it."
Buffy nodded. "You're the best," she said, hugging Joyce, tightly.
"Ok honey, appreciate the affection, but you're cutting off my air supply," Joyce laughed, pulling away from her daughter. She looked down at Buffy, who was wiping away a tear. "We'll be alright. I still have my job. It's not much at the moment. But I really think they're going to give me a raise. Have faith."
"I love you mom."
"Oh I love you too baby," Joyce said, kissing her forehead. "I have more work to do at the Gallery. Are you ok here by yourself?"
Buffy nodded. "Yeah. I'll be ok. Go."
"Remember, I'm only a call away!" Joyce yelled as she left the room in a hurry.
Buffy fell back onto her bed. "Half my clothes. I can do this..."
a/n: sorry, there was no Angel. and it was short. but i will update soon, i just don't have time at the moment to write long chapters.
