The broken statues, the shatter glass of the display cases, the blood, all the blood, and the note. It was left for her on her mothers desk with the knife that had been used to slit her throat stabbed though it.
The scenes kept replaying over and over again in her mind. She still heard the screams almost constantly throughout her dreams.
Not her own screams, for she hadn’t made a sound. In fact she hadn’t since. She was numb. As she lain there starring at the ceiling of her bedroom, she held the note. She hadn’t read it. She didn’t need it. She knew who had done this. And he was going to pay.
That thought bought Buffy out of her catatonic state. Her only thought was of getting out of there.
She set out to find him, the thing that had killed her mother. But, she found herself wandering incoherently throughout the streets of Sunnydale. Her mind kept finding its way back to her mother. Which is why she didn’t sense the vampire until he was practically on top of her.
Startled, Buffy fell to the ground, hard. But she quickly regained composure just before the vamp tackled her. She rolled from underneath the attacking vampire and jumped to her feet.
"You picked the *wrong* day to mess with me," she said.
"What PMS?" the vampire quipped, "or do you miss your mommy?"
Thunder roared as Buffy’s eyes went from angry to down right pissed. The vampire charged, but she was ready. As he lunged at her she kicked him in the chest with her wooden heal, and the vamp turned to dust. In that instant it began to rain.
As the rain came, so did the tears. She had to get out of there. If Spike found her like this, who knows what would happen. She couldn’t fight him yet, not while the wound was still fresh. So she ran to the only person who would understand. She ran to Angel.
She banged loudly on the door. She was ready to break the lock when she heard movement from inside. She wiped the tears from her face as she waited. The door swung open, the man looking back at her, his deep eyes filled with worry.
"Buffy?" the shirtless vampire asked. His voice confirming the look in his eyes.
"Hey," she said while folding her arms across her chest.
He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside.
"Are you ok? Your soaked."
"Yeah, its raining," she said with lack of emotion.
Angel starred back at her for a few moments. She looked terrible. Her clothes looked like a second skin, her hair was unkempt and stringy, her eyes were dull as if she were somewhere else. Such a change from just two days ago, well except for the clothes. He walked over to his closet and grabbed a clean white shirt.
"Here," he said handing her the shirt, "you’ve got to be freezing."
She starred down at the shirt as he walked out of the room. After he had left he felt the tears stinging her eyes. She hugged he arms around herself willing herself not to cry. But she wasn’t strong enough, and the warm tears streamed down her face.
She stood there barely second before she felt strong arms envelop her shaking body. Her head fell to his shoulder immediately as she was in his arms. His head rested on hers while he stoked his hand up and down her back. He softly kissed the crown of her head as she he breathing slowed. She closed her eyes letting a feeling of safety come over her.
As the tears dried and she began to feel herself being pulled into sleep she whispered, "Angel?"
"Yeah?" he whispered back, picking up his head to look into her puffy green eyes.
"Never let go of me."
He rested his head on hers. As he watched her drift into unconsciousness he answered, "Don’t worry, I’ll never let go."