TWELVE YEARS LATER …

At the age of five, when everything was supposed to be about pretty colours and rainbows, Buffy had lost her life. True, she wasn't dead – though she felt close to it. Her Mother had been killed, her Father had died shortly after her birth and no other family member would happily claim her. Buffy was left alone and vulnerable. And even at that tender age, she knew that she would have to make herself strong and hard. She knew that she couldn't care for anybody, trust anybody else, or rely on anybody. Because Buffy knew that nobody could protect her. Not even her Mom had been able to do that. She knew she had to protect herself.

Buffy had to learn how to fight …

She stood at the entrance of the crypt, spinning a wooden stake between her fingers, as she hummed a soft melody. The bright light from the crescent shaped moon shone down on Buffy's face, illuminating her hazel eyes. The graveyard was mute, not even a passing car on the road could be heard, except from the gentle hum escaping the young woman's lips. She let her eyes wander across the many gravestones. Buffy knew this graveyard inside out, knew almost every graveyard, as her life had revolved around this world for almost twelve years now.

Ever since the day Buffy had lost her Mom, she had been introduced into a different world. A world where she didn't belong. A world that she had forced herself to become a part of so she could destroy it. A world where every single mystical creature and beast - along with so much more that had never been recorded in fairytales - existed. And this was the world that Buffy had been fighting against since the death of her mother.

The soft melody died on Buffy's lips as she noticed something shifting in the distance from the corner of her eye. She straightened up, the grip on the wooden stake tightening, as she allowed her eyes to swivel to enclose the movement across the graveyard.

The moment she laid her eyes upon him, she knew. The vampires were, as the myths said, deathly pale. This was one way to notice them, although Buffy had strolled upon some quite awfully pale mortals as well and had frightened them slightly when she whipped her stake out to stab them. Unlike some movies that had portrayed them, vampires had usual coloured eyes like everyone else – even though some people, thanks to Hollywood, believed they had black, golden or scarlet eyes. The only thing that made a vampire noticeable was that they tried so hard to fit in with the rest of society. Take the vampire that was creeping across the graveyard now for instance – he was wearing bright blue and orange Hawaiian shorts, a white tank top and a pair of black converse. Who wore Hawaiian shorts at night to a graveyard in this freezing weather? Sometimes vampire's attempts to fit in were totally all wrong.

Buffy rolled around the corner of the crypt, concealing her from the view of the vampire, and climbed over the fence leading her out of the cemetery. The vampire was near the entrance of the graveyard and, if she was quick enough, she would be able to surprise him from behind without him ever even seeing her.

Thankfully, as though fate had intervened, the vampire's shoe laces fell undone. Buffy heard him sigh irately, cursing anything and everything to do with the human race, as he bent down on one knee to retie his laces. Buffy smirked happily, sending a mental thank you to the high heavens. And then suddenly, as quick as a hare running through long grass, she had dived across the graveyard, stake in hand. Buffy's own converse sneakers connected with the vampires behind, resulting in him toppling forward and smashing his head on the damp grass.

"What the fuck-"

The vampire jumped up. His face was now dishevelled into his "game face" as Buffy called them – it was where there face shifted from the smooth, normal looking human face to the bumpy, unattractive face of a vampire. The vampire snarled at Buffy, who merely smiled widely at him and gave him a wave. A smile flittered across his face, making it look even more horrible to look at, as his tongue slid across his teeth. He obviously thought Buffy was dinner.

As he took a step forward, she took one back.

"Aw, don't be like that," the vampire grinned.

"Oh yeah, 'cause I should just stand there and let you eat me," Buffy retorted, rolling her eyes.

"You're right, you should."

The vampire clutched Buffy's neck with his right hand and bent it to the side, revealing her neck. He ran his fingers down her throat before raising them to his mouth and licking them. His mouth watered as the scent of the girl tingled his taste buds. His eyes bulged as he zoomed in on her neck.

"Bored now," Buffy suddenly said.

She kicked his legs out from under him and, just as she had expected, the vampire pulled her to the floor with him. She lay on top of him, straddling him on either side, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Buffy pulled out the stake from her back pocket and spun it in her fingers, giving the vampire a little wink. He gasped, his eyes widening as she rolled the stake along his chest.

"You. You … you're the one … you're the one that-"

"Kills vampires? Uh huh. Wow, I didn't know I was famous," Buffy smirked in amusement.

"Please, I beg you … spare me," the vampire begged, his face returning to its normal form.

At first, when Buffy was new to the whole slaying and killing vampires, she found it difficult to stake vampires when they didn't have their game faces on. She found it hard to differentiate between the human they had once been and the monster they now were. Except, whenever she came close to sparing a vampire, she would remember the reason why she went home to an empty flat each night. The reason why she had grown up without any guidance and why there was no one there to hold her at night and soothe her when she was scared. The reason why she had to clean the horrible coloured blood from demons out of her own clothes and why she had to attend to the cuts and bruises on her body without any assistance or sympathy. Vampires had killed her Mother. Vampires had taken away her whole life before it even started.

"And why would I spare your pathetic existence?" Buffy spat.

She raised the stake and stabbed in directly into the vampires' chest. Her anger had gotten the better of her – she knew that - though Buffy wouldn't regret killing the vampire. A few moments later, she was sat upon a pile of dust.

Suddenly, a round of applause broke the silence that circled the graveyard.

Buffy jumped up to her feet, the stake clutched tightly in her hand. She hadn't known there was someone else present in the graveyard until her eyes fell upon a man stood a few metres away, clapping his hands with an amused smile. Buffy jumped up onto her feet, tightening her grip around the stake in her hand. Her first thought was on the beauty of the man, how his brown eyes shimmered in the moonlight … her second thought was wondering why he seemed so familiar to her … and her final thought, which had her raising her stake in the air with a fierce look in her eyes, was the realization that he was in fact a vampire.

The man held up his long white hands in a defensive pose as he took a retreating step from Buffy.

"Buffy Summers," he said.

Buffy instantly stopped in her place. No vampire, demon or any other mystical creature she had ever encountered had ever known her name. She was known throughout the supernatural world, however her actual name was anonymous – she was feared from the rumours that had gone round about her strength and fighting instincts, not her actual name. This vampire – the vampire that had some sort of familiarity about him - knew her name.

"How do you know my name?" Buffy questioned.

Buffy scanned over the vampire. He had the most beautiful pair of brown orbs that held a certain sparkle to them, fringed by thick eyelashes. His hair was spiked and brown, long enough for her to run her fingers through. He was tall, about six feet, and muscled. He was dressed simply in black, which illuminated his skin even more so, with his t-shirt clung to his torso.

"You don't like monsters, right?" the vampire replied, taking a step forward and lowering his hands.

Buffy's eyes widened. She could remember that day twelve years ago … when she said those words … when everything deepened and darkened in her world.

"Was it a monster that put my mommy to sleep?" said Buffy, looking up at him.

"Erm … yeah," Angel answered, deciding honesty was the best way.

"I don't like monsters," croaked Buffy.

"I remember your name because I liked it … it was really something I've never heard before in all my years of existence," added the vampire.

"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you," he said as Buffy stumbled away from him.

"Who are you?" asked Buffy bluntly.

"I'm Angel," the man answered, smiling at the child's straightforwardness.

Buffy smiled for a moment. "That's a pretty name."

Angel returned the smile, approaching closer to her. "Thank you. What's your name?"

"My name is Buffy … I don't like it very much," Buffy replied honestly.

'Yeah, it's a dorky name … You're Angel, aren't you?"

Buffy let the stake fall to her side. Relaxing her grip on the wooden device that had helped her eliminate endless amounts of vampires in her time of slaying, she allowed herself to push away the natural influences that were pinching at her – this vampire had, in some way, saved her from death, how could she stake him?

"Yes, I'm surprised you remember," answered Angel, amusement evident on his pale face.

"Well, I can't say there are many vamps who have stuck around long enough to tell me their names," said Buffy.

Angel's eyes flashed to the clump of sharpened wood in her hand, eyeing it with distaste.

"I'm not going to stake you," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm just going to let your sorry little immortal ass walk out of here."

Buffy spun on her heel, pocketing her stake, and strolled back along the path towards the tall, black gates on the other side of the cemetery. She glanced at her watch; it was half eleven at night. She knew that she would be back in her warm bed, snuggled up in her pyjamas, watching a soppy movie in no less than half an hour. It was her typical night: waking up, eating, going to the gym, eating, slaying, going to bed and watching some sappy movie. Quite pathetic for a seventeen year old. Then again, as many people had proudly told her over the years, she seemed wise beyond her years …

Except that wisdom, that maturity had come at a price. Her Mother's life.

"Let me walk you home."

Buffy sighed and turned around. He wasn't there.

She spun back around and, without even flinching, flashed Angel an annoyed look as he gave her a protective glare.

"Listen … not to be rude or anythin' … but thanks for saving my life, it means a lot, but I kill your kind … I've given you the chance to walk free, please don't make me get even more dust on my new jeans," she sighed.

Without anymore words spoken, Buffy stepped around him and continued on her way home. Although, with every step of her half an hour journey, she felt as though she was being followed. Her stake remained safely in her pocket, begging for a vampire to push her enough to give them a good staking. However, whenever she spun around to check behind her, she was merely greeted with empty streets or passing cars.

Buffy sat on the edge of her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest as she studied the photo frame opposite her on the television stand. It was always the last thing she looked at before going to sleep. She knew that every human had a chance of going to sleep and never awaking, so she wanted the last thing she ever saw to be the photograph of her five year old self and her mother. It was odd, especially with how much of life she could admire before her life came to an end, though there was nothing that made her more peaceful than seeing the last picture ever photographed of her mother and herself.

"I miss you," Buffy whispered.

It seemed unfair that she had only been granted five years, sixty months, of life to spend with her own mom. She should have grown up with her mother by her side. There were so many mother/daughter moments they should have fulfilled; coming home from her first day of High School and gushing over the handsome boy who sat next to her in biology, sitting around on Sundays and watching cheesy movies, celebrating her graduation, weeping at her wedding and then congratulating her on the birth of her first child. Those moments were forever lost. And, to Buffy, it seemed so unfair.

She sighed, running her fingers through her knotted hair. Buffy contemplated getting a shower, though she knew that she had nothing to be ready for in the morning as her social life had never existed. Sometimes she liked to imagine what it would have been like if it had rained that Sunday morning, preventing her and her Mother to go out on their weekly walk through the enchanted forest, if they had taken refuge in the confines of their home. Everything could have been so different. She could have had a normal life like every other girl her age, she could have gotten friends and boyfriends without fearing they would run a mile if they knew the responsibility she put on her shoulders when the sun set.

"Stop it," Buffy demanded of herself.

She had always promised herself that she would never consider the possibilities of what ifs and what could have been. It was no use. What ifs were pointless, far from reality, and Buffy tried to stay clear of her what if thoughts as she refused to put herself through that emotional rollercoaster. She had come to accept life as it was, not question what could have been. However her unconscious was far from letting the subject drop as it would play out her desires as dreams. The seventeen year old would often wake up from these peaceful, fulfilling dreams and cry about them as she knew that the life she craved for would never be hers, that her dreams were only taunting her. Life was harsh like that.

Buffy ran her fingers through her knotted hair, closing her eyes to fight the tears that were trying to escape. She had to be strong, she wouldn't let herself crumble. She had a job, a responsibility, and that was to prevent anyone else from going through the same heart rendering grief that she suffered from every single hour of every single day. Buffy had to protect everyone from the vampires that threatened to kill humans, to protect other five year old girls from loosing their Mothers. She would never wish this sort of life for anyone else, not even the cruellest of people, because she barely classed it as a life. She was like an empty shell, dead to world, until the sun set and her vampire killing side booted up.

Buffy rose to her feet, swaying lightly as nausea gripped her. She stumbled over to the window. Her hands squeezed around the soft material of her curtains and, just as she was about to clamp them shut, she saw a dark figure stood opposite the road, hands in pockets staring up at her. She cocked her eyebrow, squinting her eyes as she tried to see through the darkness.

The clouds shifted, allowing the moon to shine down on the stranger. She recognized the black leather jacket first. His skin shone perfectly in the light, glowing almost. He stared up at her with his entrancing brown eyes. He rocked back and forth on his heels, his eyes never wavering from hers.

She blinked.

And Angel was gone.

OH MY GOD! Thank you so much for every single review! It overwhelmed me how you all accepted this story within the first chapter. It means so much to a writer when people appreciate their work and I hope to continue to entrance you with the story and the romance. Thank you so much!