A Year in Hell (1/2) by: Alex P. Rated: R

[keeper444@xxxxxxxxx]

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Title: A Year in Hell (1/2)
Author: Alex P.
Feedback: Please any comments or suggestions to: keeper444@xxxxxxxxx
Archive: The usual suspects: A Slayer, A Hacker, Gary's Between the
Sheets, Bill's Sword and Stake Library
Anyone else just ask I promise I'll say yes.
 Summary: A look into the lowest point in the life of someone near and
dear to all of us.
Spoilers: None really.
Disclaimer: The characters of Buffy Willow Giles and any others from
BTVS are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy etc. No
infringement of any kind intended. The story however is a figment of my
own twisted imagination.]:-) Warnings : While there is no explicit
sexual content a loving relationship between two consenting women is
suggested. If this offends you (Man, are you in the wrong place) or is
illegal where you live (I suggest you move). PLEASE DELETE NOW!
Warning #2: This story portrays the explicit use of controlled
substances and IV drug abuse and an attempted suicide. Again if this
bothers you, find something else to read. Cause you won't like this one
at all.
Rating: R (intensely adult type situations I wouldn't want my kids to
read it)
Pairing: B/W (implied)
Notes: Due to circumstances beyond their control one of the gang is lost
and alone and isn't handling it well at all.   <>thoughts<>
      *****flashbacks****
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Title: A Year in Hell (1/2)
Author: Alex P.
-------------------------

                                        The
huddled figure hurried down the quickly darkening street, the shadows
deepened by the absence of street lights sure didn't make the area seem
any friendlier.
                  This was not the
part of town you read about in the brochures, no, this looked more like
a war zone than a part of the pretty little town of Sunnydale and it
smelled even worse.
                At a run down brick
building with broken windows and boarded up doors the figure stopped,
and furtively looked around to be sure it wasn't being observed, then it
stealthily went to one of the blocked doors and moving a loose board the
figure slipped into the condemned building.
              Someone had jumped over the
old electric meter and had illegally turned on the water but nobody that
lived there knew who, they didn't care.
            The individuals had no idea who they
shared the building, nor did they care.
They all knew their status in life. They were the cast-offs from a
society that didn't want to recognise their existence.
                The huddled figure
cackled insanely at these thoughts, no they didn't really want to know
who or what cohabited their little world.
                They had their own
problems that absorbed their attention.  
      Each had succumbed to their own private hell and had
nothing left over to share with their fellow sufferers.    
      Climbing the dark narrow stairs the figure wondered how
much longer it would have the strength to make this ascent, knowing when
that time came they would have crossed the line from inhabitant to prey,
and would no longer be safe here.
                    After that
the downhill slide they'd been on since that night would soon reach its
inevitable conclusion and it was just another lifeless body in the
morgue, unknown and unclaimed, filler for another hole in Potters field.
                   Coming to a
nondescript door at the end of a long dark hallway the figure made
another furtive glance over its shoulder then used its shoulder to shove
open the portal to its own private section of hell.
              The room was small and as
dirty as its occupant, all it held was an old cot with an old lumpy
mattress that smelled of bodily fluids and mildew, a badly abused night
stand and an rickety old table with a scared top and a straight backed
wooden chair.
                Lighting was provided by
a shadeless lamp with a dim bulb.
      On the table was all that was necessary for its life now, a
candle, matches, a spoon with a bent handle, and several used syringes.

                    "Decor by
House of Hell in early Junkie" the figure mumbled chuckling at its own
humor "Gods, it's hot in here."

                        The
figure began shrugging off its outer layer of clothing stopping when it
reached its last layer.
                    Now clad in
old worn grimy jeans and a ragged dirty and horribly stained tank top.
                  Underwear had
disappeared within the first month on the streets.
                  Now it was
possible to see that it was a female, she'd once even been considered
pretty.
                A year on the streets
and the junk had taken care of that now, only a shadow of her former
self remained.
                  Wiping her
forehead and realizing her teeth were chattering she knew she'd gotten
back just in time.
                  She'd already
started the cold sweats and before long she'd start the stomach cramps,
followed by the crawlies and serious shakes.
                What came after that she
had no idea, she'd let herself get to the shakes only once and she
wouldn't ever let that happen again.

                          <>Better
to die than withdraw<> she told herself.

                She smiled sadly at the
prospect of death. Once she'd fought hard to keep from dying, now she'd
welcome it with open arms.
              The only reason she was still
alive was she was too much of a coward to kill herself, so she'd chosen
the easy way.
              As she looked at herself in
the cracked and warped mirror, she could see that it wouldn't be long
now.
                Who knew how she'd go?
There were a thousand ways for a street junkie to die, there was
exposure, malnutrition, raped and murdered in some alley.
                That one made her laugh
as she once more looked at her reflection.

                  <>Sucker'd have to
be pretty desperate to wanna rape my bony carcass<> She told herself

                She'd seen it happen
more than once down here, some poor junkie, like herself, would get some
money, one of the others would find out, and beat them to death for
twenty bucks.
                What a joke her life had
become. She reached into her boots that were two sizes too big and
pulled out three small plastic bindles of white powder and threw them on
the table along with a pack of generic cigarettes.
                  It had been a good
day of panhandling. She'd made enough to not only get enough stuff for
today and tomorrow, but she had been able to buy herself a whole pack of
smokes.
                            The
waif thin girl then pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it drawing
the harsh smoke deep into her lungs.
                          She
coughed a little then took another drag this time when she inhaled there
was no adverse reaction. Now that her lungs had settled down she began
the daily ritual of getting the fix.
                She tore open one of the
packets and dumped it's contents into the spoon.
                Leaving it on the table,
she picked up the least dirty glass from the sink and filled with the
brownish tinged water from the tap and returned to the table.
                Using her newest syringe
she drew up some of the water then carefully let it drop into the spoon
with the powder.
            Then slowly with all the
concentration of a brain surgeon she held the spoon over the lit candle
heating the contents while gently stirring it with the end of the
syringe until all the powder was dissolved.
              Once the elixir was liquified
she sat the spoon ever so carefully on the table and tore a small piece
of the cigarette filter cotton with her teeth. Rolling it into a minute
ball she let it drop in the spoon so that it touched the edge of the
liquid.
            Holding the needle on the cotton to
filter the mixture she drew the liquid 'escape' into the syringe.
                    Closely
examining the contents of the syringe she smiled just a little.

                "Damn Jonesy must have a
new connection." she muttered pleased by the purity of the drugs "Almost
all came back, just hope he ain't cuttin it with strychnine again. Shit
makes my kidneys hurt."

                    Talking to
herself was another habit she'd picked up over the last year. Her fellow
street junkies were not much for stimulating conversation.
                    She pulled
the belt from around her jeans and went over to sit on the edge of the
bed.
                Getting as comfortable
as she could. She pulled the belt through the buckle making a loop and
put that around her bicep then pulled it as tight as she could.
              She pumped her fist trying to
raise a vein, she'd already burned out the veins the hooker had shown
her so no one would see the tracks and now she had fried the major ones
in her left arm.
                Finally after having to
slap her arm to get the vein up to where she could see it, she found
what she'd been searching for.
                  Holding the end of
the belt with her teeth to keep it tight and with her left hand she slid
the needle through her thin pale white skin and into the blue vein at
the bend of her elbow. She drew a little blood into the syringe to be
sure she'd pierced the vein then she pushed the plunger and forced the
contents in to her vein and released the belt allow the blood to flow
freely carrying the drugs throughout her system.
                        First
came the overwhelming waves of nausea but there was nothing in her
stomach to bring up so that was no big deal.
                        Then
with a heavy sigh she felt the release of the drug as it invaded her
brain making her feel like she was floating without a care in the world.
                At last she'd reached
the point she was hoping for and for a few minutes it didn't matter that
they were all dead. She could forget that the one true love of her life
had died and left her alone to face the world without her.
                  With that thought
the anger came. How dare they it wasn't fair, everybody felt sorry for
them, it was so awful what happened isn't it too bad they died.
     
       Yeah but at least for them it was over but for
her it had just begun.
                          As
the powerful drug set her mind afloat on a sea of euphoria, at peace,
but the peace didn't last.
                      Just
like the last two times the memories came pouring back to her now.  
     
            Her uncluttered mind, no problems, no
worrying about being found, no hiding in dark corners because she saw a
familiar figure on the street.
                  Like today, she
saw that seemingly familiar looking person as she was leaving Jonesy's
place right after she'd scored.
                At first she'd thought
it was a narc but it wasn't long before she knew it wasn't any of the
cops that hung around there hassling the junkies, hookers, and pimps
while taking protection payoffs from the dealers.

                          "Sunnydale's
finest" she snorted sarcastically. "What a joke.How they gonna clean up
the streets when they couldn't find their ass with a flashlight and they
lived in some small time pusher wannabe's hip pocket."

                  Today though it
hadn't been some dirty cop trying to extort a few bucks out of some
burned out junkies, no, today was something different.
                The sight of this figure
had been like a dagger through her heart. It had dredged up all the
agonizing memories that had driven her into this life.
                Surprised by tears she
thought she no longer had, she realized she was crying again as all
those memories burst through all her carefully constructed barriers and
came roaring back into her consciousness, invading her waking hours
instead of remaining only in her sleeping nightmares.
                  Even the drugs
weren't helping to hold back the visions of her and the horror of the
remembered sight of her love's death.
                She cried out in agony
and buried her face in her battered dirty hands unable to fight off the
pain that ripped through her heart and soul.

                    "Alone," she
wailed drowning in a sea of despair and hopelessness. "Why am I here
alone. You promised you'd stay with me forever and then you left me."

              Her pain was unfathomable, it
wasn't just sorrow and grief no, it was all that and far more.
          She'd lost more than friends and a lover that
night, she'd lost her soul, it shriveled up and died as she watched them
go down under the onslaught of the undead.
                  It had taken an
army of unholy demons and monsters to do it but, it had been done, Now
she was left to deal with the guilt of having lived while everything she
held dear in her life was destroyed.
              She had reached the end of her
tolerance, for over a year now she'd been living with it.  
        After a while she was able to function and the smak had
forced back the painful memories relegating them to her sleeping time
only, but now after today she knew it was over.
              The pain had found her and
forced her out into the light so it could rape and destroy the remnants
of her sanity to leave her with nothing, but she knew she had a choice.
              She could put a stop to the
agony that was trying to drag her down into a living hell of pain and
depression leaving only a drooling babbling shell like some of the
others she'd seen.
                No she could stop that
and now was the time, if she waited she knew it would be too late and
the pain would win.
                  Determined to
follow through with her plan she drug herself off the bed and crawled to
the table.
              She almost passed out as she
pulled her drugged, abused, and battered body into the chair.
              Her lungs burned and her frail
body shook uncontrollably.
    She sat up in the chair and took in several deep
breaths struggling to regain control of herself so she could finally
stop her pain.
                Having steeled herself
and forcibly keeping her body from shaking she realized she was more
relaxed right now than she'd ever been since that night.
              She rationalized that having
finally come to a decision about her future had helped her gather her
remaining strength; so she could do what was necessary.
                    She lit
another cigarette and relaxed for a moment, then she picked up both of
the remaining bindles and emptied their contents into the spoon.
                        As
she heated and stirred the elixir that would take care of her future and
finally make the pain go away for good, her mind back to the event that
happened on that night over a year ago.
           This time she didn't fight it knowing
that soon all the agony she'd suffered for so long would soon be gone.
************
                    It had been
the same as every other night of their adolescent lives, they had all
met at Giles' apartment to get ready for the nightly patrol.
                  It was clear to
all of them that something big was about to happen.
                  Buffy had been
running into more and stronger opponents every night and thanks to
Willow's "research girl" act they'd figured out that once again they
faced an enemy of apocalyptic proportions.
                  Since the portents
of an escalating threat were clear it had been decided that all of them
would go out on patrol with Buffy.
                    Even Wesley
was there to help, and according to him Angel had some thing pressing to
attend to then he would be arriving to help.
                    They loaded
up, Buffy carried her usual assortment of weapons, while Giles and
Wesley opted for crossbows with hardwood quarrels. Willow and Xander
were bringing along stakes and Super Soakers full of Holywater.
                          In
other words they were armed to the teeth. When they entered the cemetery
they spread out but made sure to keep each other in sight.
                      They
covered as much ground as they could without putting themselves in
harm's way. Things had actually gone pretty slow and the consensus was
that either their information was wrong or they'd read it wrong. Both of
which were possible when you were working with a centuries old prophecy
and living on the Hellmouth.
                    It was
decided to head for the house after one more sweep of the campus.
                      Even
she would admit that they were lulled into a false sense of security and
even though they knew better all of them slacked off relaxing their
watch or maybe these were smarter adversaries than they were used to.
                Whatever it was when the group had come
to a spot where they had to separate and just as the two groups were out
of sight of each other the attack came.
                  To her it seemed
that the vamps just appeared out of nowhere and inspite of all their
preparations there was simply too many of them.
              The fierce battle that
followed was too fast and too spread out for her to recall what exactly
happened.
                All she could remember
for sure was that at some time during the fight she was thrown up
against a nearby building and was knocked unconscious for how long she
wasn't sure.
              That didn't really matter,
what mattered to her was what happened after she came to.
                  She pushed herself
up, and looked around, while she was out the fight had moved away from
where she had lain.
                  Slowly regaining
her feet she stopped to survey the scene. She was horrified. Only two of
her friends remained standing and even from her distance she could see
the defenders were out on their feet.
                  To make matters
worse there were several more vamps running to join the fight. As she
watched she saw her friends go down under a massive wave of the undead.

                    She heard
someone screaming "NO" then she realized it was her and fearing to call
attention to herself she forced herself to shut up, but she was too
late.
                    Three of the
vamps on the fringes of the fight saw her and began to come after her.
Then she did the unforgivable.
      She ran and left her friends to die.
***************
                    "That's
right," she told herself, as she drew up the drug from the spoon,
laughing derisively at herself, "the great hunter of the undead, friend
and confidant to the down trodden, defender of humanity, the all
powerful Willow the Wyccan ran like the gutless coward she is."

^^^^^^^^^
TBC
^^^^^^^^^