-Chapter Three-

New Life

Buffy's eyes flickered open as she awoke from the same dream she had been having ever since she left Sunnydale. It had been two months of the same dreams always the same ending and each time she had had to wake up in whatever slum she was sleeping in this time.

Her eyelashes flickered to show a white peeling ceiling above her, a long lightning crack slithered across the plaster ceiling reaching a brown patch near the skirting boards that reached right down across the wall. Obviously, there had been a pipe burst. She pushed the thin blanket off her bed after failing to keep her warmth for the millionth time. It fell down on the wooden floor. It was rough and the varnish that had once shined across each end of the room was now worn and chipped away. It scratched against her feet as she sat at the side of the bed, the mattress dipping as she did.

The heels of her feet scratched against the flooring as her legs stretched. Her arms flailed up as she yawn flicking her hair apart so that it flopped down to her shoulders as her arms flapped down to her hips. She stopped. Her blue eyes watched as she fingered a ring around her finger. It felt so empty to have it now. All it was, was a reminder of what she lost and why she had left.

Her feet led her to the bathroom across the hall. The hard flooring scraped across the souls of her feet. The door of the bathroom creaked open revealing a small rotting tiled room. Tiles stood chipped and cracked against the walls, a frosted mirror stood against the rotting tiles, a small sink underneath adjacent from shower against the wall in front of her. The seat of the toilet sat derelict against the toilet bowel.

She crossed against the tiled floor until finally she reached the damp rug sat in front of the shower. She stepped inside. Water shot like tiny torpedoes from the showerhead, beating down against her hair.

The water matted her blond hair, slipping down her crooked nose and exploded as it crashed down tub floor. She watched the water against her as if trying to forget her troubles. She stood scrubbing hard as if the problems that plagued her minds would just disappear along with the dirt between her skin.

She wrapped a small towel around as though would shield her from her pain and lock them away within the smooth cotton. She held the towel up letting it dip at her back. She didn't even bother to check if anyone was outside in a bid to save herself from embarrassment, she didn't care anymore.

The hallway was deserted anyway and that was how she liked it. Solitary and quiet. It allowed her to listen to her own thoughts and let her own guilt bubble within her.

She closed door over returning to her slum. She walked to the cupboard sat at the far end of the room over looking the window that sported a darkened view of gratified brick walls. She opened doors of the cupboard, like the bathroom door it creaked as well, in fact so did nearly every door and every floorboard in this entire building, almost as if they were a silent torture. They made the hairs of the back of neck stand on end with each ear-piercing creak.

She looked at the red uniform she was now forced to wear. She placed the 'rags' down on the bed. She looked at yesterday's edition of the Metropolis Inquisitor a large headline saying: "MASKED MAN STRIKES AGAIN".

She didn't bother to read it was always the same what caught her eye was the small article saying:

RUNAWAY FOUND DEAD AFTER BEING DRAINED OF LIFE

Last night, Metropolis PD found an elderly old man dead in Metropolis' Suicide Slum, the coroners described the mans death as natural although has declared that the man was put under harsh treatment.

But, we can reveal that the elderly old man might not be an elderly old man. Along with the body was an ID belonging to an Ethan Fox, 16, a runaway who has been lost for the past six months. Why an elderly old man would have an ID for a person who was fifty years younger than him.

"We believe the victim must have stolen the wallet from the runaway although, from what we can tell he was in no condition to even attempt such a thing," said Detective Maggie Sawyer of Metropolis PD last night.

This reporter spoke with Fox's girlfriend who he runaway with so many months ago. She has seen the body after coming to get Ethan's stuff. It was then, that she revealed that the elderly man had the same tattoo as Ethan Fox at the exact same place.

So, is this elderly man Ethan Fox? What is happening to the youth that runaway from home? What is lurking in the shadows attacking these runaways? And what sort of creature could suck the life out of a person? (For full details turn to page 2)

When she was the slayer she would have went out into the night and preyed on the creature that had done this attack, but, she didn't want that life anymore. If they could only see me now, she thought as she walked through streets of Metropolis. Her rags in full view for everyone to see. She was invisible. Lost within the maze of drunks, junkies and just the everyday man that walked to his nine till five job that put the clothes on his back and the food on his table.

She reached the café called Hell's Kitchen, which she had been working at for the past month since she arrived at Metropolis. The exactly was like the rest of the city block. Rings of dust could be seen across the stretched out windows. The blinds were shut probably; to shield how much worse the inside looked.

She stopped in through the door; a small sign hung at the window saying 'closed'. Buffy walked into the café. It was musty and cramped in small confinements. Lines of light crept through the closed blinds hitting the small booths sat through the café; it was almost blinding as it hit the glass of the booth. A long counter sat at the front leading to the kitchen. She could smell the eggs from inside; they always made her sick. She picked up an apron from the reception desk next to her wrapped it around her waist. It was red like her uniform. She looked around at her new life. The life she had now chose.