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A/N This story was originally started by Darla called You’re My Temptation and adopted by me, starting after (her original version of) chapter three. I have rewritten the first part of it (that wasn’t mine) and even though this entire story was written by me, I did not come up with the idea and the first few chapters are just my interpretation- I merely elaborated on what was previously written and changed the storyline a little bit.








Chapter 1 – Just Survive





Sitting in her class and listening to the teacher drone on about their reading assignment for the weekend, Buffy sat at her desk, mindlessly tapping a pencil against the flat surface and counting the seconds until the bell rang. Eager to get home and check on her sick mother, at only eleven years old, she already knew too much about the bad things that affected this world. Her father had left years ago, leaving Joyce Summers to take care of an eight-year-old little girl entirely on her own. That is, until the tables had turned and Buffy had spent the last few years looking after her mother while Joyce was subjected to numerous chemotherapy treatments.



When the bell finally rang, announcing the end of the school day, Buffy practically bolted out of her seat, wanting nothing more than to get away from this awful building for a weekend of freedom. Idly swinging her backpack and letting it gently hit her knees as she walked, without a care in the world. Waving to her friends, Buffy walked off the campus and headed toward her house.



* * * * *



Walking through her front door, Buffy felt as if everything fell away in the moment that she looked into her living room. Feeling her mouth go dry and her eyes water, she suddenly found it extremely hard to breathe as she looked into her mother’s lifeless eyes.



She looked so at peace.



Out of pain.



Gone.



She felt as if the little girl inside of her was dying as she crumpled to the ground, her hand gripping the door casing and her body frozen in shock as she looked at the scene before her. The tears in her eyes threatened to spill over, but she still couldn’t take her eyes away from the sight in front of her.



“Mommy?” she whispered, her voice laced with agony.



Silently trying to will her mother to move…to blink…to do anything, Buffy felt a solitary tear slip down her cheek as the final trace of hope seemed to slip away.



Not knowing what to do, Buffy pulled her knees up to her chest in a feeble effort to comfort herself.



“Mommy, wake up,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing for everything to disappear when she reopened them. “Please, wake up…please…make it better…I don’t know what to do…”



She trailed off in an agonizing sob.



* * * * *



Hours later, when her eyes were puffy and her body was sore from staying in the same position, Buffy slowly managed to get to her feet. Stumbling around the darkening room, she tried not to let everything overwhelm her as she reached for the phone and slowly managed to dial 911. Her foggy brain automatically picked out the numbers as if it was a reflex before dimly hearing the operator picking up the extension. Numbly giving the woman the information she wanted, Buffy let the phone drop to the floor as she curled herself into a ball and waited for someone to come and make it better.



* * * * *



Never moving from her spot as the men carried her mother’s body out of the house, she felt as if she was outside of her body, watching everything take place but never actually experiencing it.



As she watched everyone moving around, she could feel a sense of dread surrounding her with each moment that passed. Vaguely realizing when a woman kneeled in front of her, Buffy forced herself to focus on her, trying to keep her mind occupied as the woman spoke.



“Hi,” she said in a gentle voice, tenderly brushing the blonde hair out of Buffy’s face and offering her a soft smile, doing what she could to comfort the distraught young woman. “I’m Fred. Would you like to come with me?”



Her chin trembled as she nodded. Sniffling to control the remaining tears, Buffy hastily wiped her eyes and her nose with the sleeve of her shirt before accepting the woman’s offered hand and getting to her feet.



Grateful for the support that was being offered to her as they walked out the door, Buffy clutched at the older woman as if she was a lifeline…which, to her eleven-year-old mind, she really was.



Leading her out of the house, Fred slowly led her to the porch swing, hoping the fresh air would do what it could to settle the distraught and heartbroken little girl.



“Where’s your father, honey?” she asked, never releasing her hold on Buffy’s hand. An act that surprisingly comforted the young blonde.



“I don’t know,” she whispered miserably.



“Is there anyone you could call?”



“No,” she sniffled, shaking her head. “Just mommy. She’s the only family I have…”



Trailing off with a choked sob, Buffy once again curled her legs against her chest as she cried.



“Okay,” Fred whispered, wrapping her arm around Buffy’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay. I need you to do something for me, alright?”



“Yeah,” she whispered with a nod.



“I’m going to take you somewhere that you can stay. I need you to go upstairs and pack some things to take with you.”



Buffy nodded her understanding and took a deep breath before climbing to her feet and walking back into her house.



* * * * *



With her small suitcase clutched on her lap, Buffy knew that she was literally holding her life in her hands. She had only grabbed the essentials, including the money she had saved that was safely tucked away in a hidden pocket of the suitcase.



Watching the neighborhood fly by, she swallowed when Fred pulled her car into the driveway of a quaint looking townhouse. Climbing out of the car, Buffy felt as if she was walking into a real estate catalogue as she looked at the perfect shrubbery and identical houses that ran along each side of the street.



Seeing the pretty woman walk out of the house, Buffy took a moment to assess the shampoo commercial hair and a smile that could have been advertised at a dentist’s office, and she decided that maybe things were looking up…just a little bit.



“Hi!” she said with a friendly smile as she walked out to meet them at the car.



Buffy could feel her stomach flip flop, suddenly nervous with the entire situation. She felt safe with Fred. She had only just met her, but she was just another thing that Buffy seemed to be losing.



“Buffy?” the woman asked, kneeling in front of the young girl.



“That’s me,” she murmured, clutching her suitcase even tighter in her white-knuckled hands.



“Would you like to come with me?” she asked, offering her hand to Buffy.



Hesitantly taking it, she allowed herself to be led toward the house, waving a goodbye to Fred and offering the older woman a watery smile when she climbed back into her car.



Walking into the house, Buffy looked around the huge living room, seeing the five other kids who were crowded around the TV, watching a cartoon. She finally allowed a small smile to play on her lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.



As the woman led her to her room, Buffy smiled as she looked at the white-washed twin beds with the fluffy pink comforters. She was told that she would be sharing it with one of the other girls, but Buffy found herself relieved at that thought. She didn’t think she could handle being alone right now.



* * * * *



Tossing and turning in her new bed, Buffy tried pulling the pillow over her face to block out the shouting match that was occurring between the two adults in the next room.



With a heavy sigh, Buffy rolled over, vaguely making out the girl in the bed next to hers.



“Better get used to it,” the little girl said softly. “They do this every night.”



“Every night?” Buffy repeated, unable to believe that the picture-perfect couple could live a double life at night, screaming words at each other that she had never even heard.



The other girl nodded, giving Buffy a sympathetic look. It was hard being the new kid. Especially because entering into foster care almost always meant something tragic had happened.



Hearing the door open, both turned toward the light that streamed into the room, seeing the three little boys, each fidgeting nervously as they looked down the hall at the source of the yelling.



“Come on,” the other girl said, sitting up in bed. Buffy watched as two ran over to the other bed, while the third climbed in with her, each seeking comfort as the sound of screams and crashing could be heard throughout the house.



* * * * *



Age 13 – Foster Home #2



Desperately trying to curl herself into a ball, Buffy bit her tongue, trying to keep her screams of pain to herself as the woman above her continued to strike her with the belt. Feeling a cry torn from her throat as the leather made contact with her neck, she finally let the tears fall.



It was a nightly occurrence. It didn’t matter what Buffy did- or more accurately, what she didn’t do- every night resulted in a new beating for some lack of a chore that she didn’t do properly.



Perfection was expected in this house.



Expected…but never achieved.



Feeling the blood trail along her body as the leather bit into her skin, she continuously tried to suppress the screams of agony. Screaming only made the beatings worse.



* * * * *



Age 14 – Foster Home #3



Lying in her bed, Buffy struggled to stay awake, not wanting to risk falling asleep with the ten other kids in the room. She tried her hardest not to fall asleep at night, only taking quick naps during the day whenever she could get a moment alone.



Feeling the bed shift as someone sat down next to her, Buffy immediately lashed out, knocking the older boy off the bed before he managed to make a grab for her. It was a nightly occurrence. If she could just last the night, she didn’t run the risk of being molested in her sleep.



‘You can get through this,’ she told herself. ‘You won’t be here much longer…you can get through this.’



* * * * *





Age 15 – Foster Home #4



“No!” Buffy screamed, trying to fight against the large man who easily pushed her down to the bed.



Frantically trying to get away, she managed to get to her feet but was easily restrained and thrown back onto the filthy mattress as he pulled off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans.



“Please, no,” she cried, as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Not again. Stop!”



Trying to calm her tears and completely zone out of the situation, Buffy wished that once, just once, someone would do something to intervene.



Feeling the man’s crushing weight on top of her, she made another feeble effort to get away but was met with a sharp slap in the face, stunning her into submission as he continued to abuse her body, tearing away another shred of innocence that she desperately wanted to hold onto.



Every night. Every night he brutally raped her and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop him.



* * * * *



Age 16 – Foster Home #5



Fearing the worst, Buffy walked into the newest foster home, seeing the perfect family standing to meet her. Her eyes widened as she looked around the house, not seeing any imperfections that were visible to the eye.



There was no way she could survive here. Not with what she’d gone through. She didn’t deserve to be here- let it be someone who needed it.



* * * * *



Age 17



Climbing out of her window on the night of her seventeenth birthday, Buffy tossed her bag to the ground below before scaling the nearby tree and effortlessly landing on the ground. Scooping up the bag, she ran down the street, never looking back.



Rounding the corner, Buffy didn’t stop running until she reached the bus station. Gasping for air, she sat down on a bench, reaching into a compartment of her bag and withdrawing five hundred dollars. Her life savings.



“It’ll have to be enough,” she whispered, pocketing the majority of the money and standing up to walk to the counter.



“Destination?” the man behind the counter asked, never looking up from the magazine he was reading.



“Sunnydale, California,” Buffy replied. She had always wanted to live in her mother’s hometown and she wasn’t going to go in a roundabout way to get there.



Paying the total amount and grabbing her ticket, she quickly made her way to the bus.



* * * * *



Walking through the streets of Sunnydale a few hours later, Buffy tried to relax. She was safe. For once in her life, she didn’t have to worry about anything…except surviving, but she’d been doing that for so long that it was second nature by now.



Seeing the ‘Sun Spot Motel’ in the distance, Buffy made her way in that direction. It was rundown and decrepit, but it would be a roof over her head.



* * * * *



Falling onto the bed in her motel room a few minutes later, Buffy mentally calculated how much money she had left. She would definitely need what little money she had left after paying for the room for a solid week.



Now she just had to find a job, a place to live, and attempt to forget all about her past and build a life for herself.



Now she just had to survive.








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