Disclaimer: I own nothing! Well, I do own a very pretty fake diamond
necklace, bathrobe, and my little Buddy Christ statue. . . Anyway, the
lovely genius and God among men, Joss Whedon, owns the characters and
rights and yadda yadda yadda
Rating: R (don't worry, it'll get good)
Summary: After a horrifying incident, Buffy leaves Sunnydale, vowing never to return. Well, we all know she can't stay away forever.
Author's Notes: OHMYGOD! This is my first fan fiction ever! Please be kind and helpful, and I'll love you forever. Anyway, on with the show.
Chapter One- The End
"LAST STOP, TUCSON!" the conductor yelled with relief. It had been three weeks since he left home, and was prepared for a long weekend of relaxation. The nameless faces filed past him, an equal amount of relief in their faces. This train ride from Portland to Tucson had been a long, hot one, and the passengers were dreaming of hotel rooms with air conditioning.
Smiling and bidding farewell to the last of the travelers, the conductor watched the girl go by. He had spotted her somewhere between Pendleton and Coeur d'Alene. She was a very young and very beautiful woman, yet she looked troubled. The whole way there, she only looked out the window, mournfully sighing. During his midnight walk through, he saw her crying in her sleep. A cowboy at heart, he did not like to see pretty ladies crying.
After a little one on one time with the station manager, he searched for the girl, hoping he could take her out for a beer and let her cry on his shoulder. People needed to help people; he had learned in his sixty-three years.
She was over by the payphone, a suitcase in hand and a backpack slung over her tiny frame. Her dark blonde hair kept falling in her eyes as she whispered into the receiver, shifting her eyes from side to side, to see if anyone was watching her.
The conductor watched her with hope. She was probably on the phone, telling her boyfriend where to pick her up, because as she spoke, some emotion dead weight seemed to fall away. He turned around, grabbing his own bags, and went on with his life, never thinking again of the sad blonde woman.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@
Her hands shook as she put the two quarters in the phone, unable to find the nerve to make this call. After calling a cab to pick her up, she only had one call to make. She had practiced the speech in the train bathroom, and knew it by heart. Yet, this speech would cause so much emotional damage to her loved ones, and the thought of that broke her.
Gathering her strength, she dialed the telephone number she could recite in her sleep. 374-555-6784. At one in the morning, she knew he would be in bed, and he continually told his friends that he would not answer the phone while he slept. This was perfect, because she had no intention of talking to him.
Four rings, then the familiar sound of his flustered voice. She smiled at the memory of him trying desperately hard to record this message, taking nearly two hours to figure out which button to push. "This is the number of. . . um, Rupert Giles, and I. . . damn!. . . am not available at this moment, so leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. . . god damned this bloody-"
Licking her lips, she began to speak in a soft voice. "Hi Giles, it's me. I'm sorry I bailed out on all of you, but I needed some time to think. And I've done that, think things over, I mean.
"I've realized that I am poison, that I kill everyone I care for, and if I leave, it will save everyone else. After Mom and Dawn. . . well, isn't it the truth?
"I'm not coming back. There are too many memories of death in Sunnydale, and I need to go find a place where they've never heard of the Slayer or Hellmouth. Don't try to find me, I've got a plan and know how to hide. If you feel up to it, I want you to sell my house and the rest of the belongings in it. Take whatever you want, I won't mind. And do whatever you want with the money; spend it for all I care. You've earned it.
"Please tell Willow, Xander, Tara, and Anya that I love them. Tell the two lovebirds that I hope they can work it out and finally get married. Tell Willow that she's the best friend a girl could have, and that I want her and Tara to have a happy life together.
"And, if you can find him, tell Spike that I love him. I've grown to love him more in the last few days then I ever thought possible, and I wish it could've worked out between us, 'cause I really think it would have. Watch out for him. Please.
"Most of all Giles, I want you to know that I love you. I are my watcher, but over the years you've become more than that. You are my dearest friend, and the only father I have." The tears started to pour, and her voice cracked as she continued. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have survived it all.
"I love all of you more than I can explain, and hope you have a wonderful future without pain.
"Goodbye," the last part was almost inaudible through her tears, "forever."
Buffy Summers hung up the receiver, and sobbed without restraint. After a few minutes, she collected herself and made it over to a waiting cab. She would stay in a motel for a few days, figuring out what to do with her life, and then she would move on to another town.
In the cab, she searched through her wallet. All of the credit cards had been overdrawn in Portland, so they couldn't have a way of finding her. Various ID's and cards had been thrown in the train's restroom garbage. All that remained was her California driver's license, the one she finally got a year ago.
$25.00 was given to the driver when they reached the motel. In the cab, she left her driver's license and her identity. Buffy Anne Summers did not exist anymore.
The nameless girl walked into the motel office, and disappeared. Hopefully, forever.
Rating: R (don't worry, it'll get good)
Summary: After a horrifying incident, Buffy leaves Sunnydale, vowing never to return. Well, we all know she can't stay away forever.
Author's Notes: OHMYGOD! This is my first fan fiction ever! Please be kind and helpful, and I'll love you forever. Anyway, on with the show.
Chapter One- The End
"LAST STOP, TUCSON!" the conductor yelled with relief. It had been three weeks since he left home, and was prepared for a long weekend of relaxation. The nameless faces filed past him, an equal amount of relief in their faces. This train ride from Portland to Tucson had been a long, hot one, and the passengers were dreaming of hotel rooms with air conditioning.
Smiling and bidding farewell to the last of the travelers, the conductor watched the girl go by. He had spotted her somewhere between Pendleton and Coeur d'Alene. She was a very young and very beautiful woman, yet she looked troubled. The whole way there, she only looked out the window, mournfully sighing. During his midnight walk through, he saw her crying in her sleep. A cowboy at heart, he did not like to see pretty ladies crying.
After a little one on one time with the station manager, he searched for the girl, hoping he could take her out for a beer and let her cry on his shoulder. People needed to help people; he had learned in his sixty-three years.
She was over by the payphone, a suitcase in hand and a backpack slung over her tiny frame. Her dark blonde hair kept falling in her eyes as she whispered into the receiver, shifting her eyes from side to side, to see if anyone was watching her.
The conductor watched her with hope. She was probably on the phone, telling her boyfriend where to pick her up, because as she spoke, some emotion dead weight seemed to fall away. He turned around, grabbing his own bags, and went on with his life, never thinking again of the sad blonde woman.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@
Her hands shook as she put the two quarters in the phone, unable to find the nerve to make this call. After calling a cab to pick her up, she only had one call to make. She had practiced the speech in the train bathroom, and knew it by heart. Yet, this speech would cause so much emotional damage to her loved ones, and the thought of that broke her.
Gathering her strength, she dialed the telephone number she could recite in her sleep. 374-555-6784. At one in the morning, she knew he would be in bed, and he continually told his friends that he would not answer the phone while he slept. This was perfect, because she had no intention of talking to him.
Four rings, then the familiar sound of his flustered voice. She smiled at the memory of him trying desperately hard to record this message, taking nearly two hours to figure out which button to push. "This is the number of. . . um, Rupert Giles, and I. . . damn!. . . am not available at this moment, so leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. . . god damned this bloody-"
Licking her lips, she began to speak in a soft voice. "Hi Giles, it's me. I'm sorry I bailed out on all of you, but I needed some time to think. And I've done that, think things over, I mean.
"I've realized that I am poison, that I kill everyone I care for, and if I leave, it will save everyone else. After Mom and Dawn. . . well, isn't it the truth?
"I'm not coming back. There are too many memories of death in Sunnydale, and I need to go find a place where they've never heard of the Slayer or Hellmouth. Don't try to find me, I've got a plan and know how to hide. If you feel up to it, I want you to sell my house and the rest of the belongings in it. Take whatever you want, I won't mind. And do whatever you want with the money; spend it for all I care. You've earned it.
"Please tell Willow, Xander, Tara, and Anya that I love them. Tell the two lovebirds that I hope they can work it out and finally get married. Tell Willow that she's the best friend a girl could have, and that I want her and Tara to have a happy life together.
"And, if you can find him, tell Spike that I love him. I've grown to love him more in the last few days then I ever thought possible, and I wish it could've worked out between us, 'cause I really think it would have. Watch out for him. Please.
"Most of all Giles, I want you to know that I love you. I are my watcher, but over the years you've become more than that. You are my dearest friend, and the only father I have." The tears started to pour, and her voice cracked as she continued. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have survived it all.
"I love all of you more than I can explain, and hope you have a wonderful future without pain.
"Goodbye," the last part was almost inaudible through her tears, "forever."
Buffy Summers hung up the receiver, and sobbed without restraint. After a few minutes, she collected herself and made it over to a waiting cab. She would stay in a motel for a few days, figuring out what to do with her life, and then she would move on to another town.
In the cab, she searched through her wallet. All of the credit cards had been overdrawn in Portland, so they couldn't have a way of finding her. Various ID's and cards had been thrown in the train's restroom garbage. All that remained was her California driver's license, the one she finally got a year ago.
$25.00 was given to the driver when they reached the motel. In the cab, she left her driver's license and her identity. Buffy Anne Summers did not exist anymore.
The nameless girl walked into the motel office, and disappeared. Hopefully, forever.