My Two Loves Combine!

And No, Sorry.. But I Do Not Own Buffy. I Also Do Not Own Kita.

What An Unfair World It Is Kids.

This Is La Femme Nikita Storyline Basically With Buffy Characters.

Probably Some Kita Ones Too Because Who The Hell Could Be Walter!? :P

I Want To Try And Combine The Buffy & Kita Chacters With Their Roles Though. Such As Buffy & Kita, Angel & Michael.. So If They Seem Not Exactly Quite Themselves That'll Be Why.

Let's See How This Goes..

Thanks, As Always, To KK & Dani.

Buffy Summers didn't exactly have the easiest life.

Her mother was a drug addict, an alcoholic.

Joyce survived off of her boyfriends, the lowest of the low, just as bad as she. And every time she bounced from one man to another, it was undecided as to wether or not Buffy was along for the ride, so she'd wait and see what happened.

She learned to run away early, how to and when to, what to bring and how to survive. But she always came back, no matter what she did, what she put her through. Buffy still cared about the woman who brought her into this world. Even when she was thrown out for good, she still cared. Even if it had come to that.

Buffy did her best to see the bright side of things. Sure, she had plenty of bad times, bad things happening to her. She was homeless, a street rat. But that didn't mean she had to be unhappy all the time.

She took life how it was and did her best with what she had. She made friends, she found things to do for fun, and she learned how to survive.

Maybe she would have been a little more careful, a little more serious, if she had known what was to come..

Wrong place. Wrong time. That's all it was.

But no one believed that.

Instead she got a life sentence for a crime she never committed. And the man who had done it, who she'd chased away with the knife he'd used to kill that office, right before the cops came, he was out there right now. Living free and easy.

Not stuck in a cage like she.

Nineteen years old and in jail. For the rest of her life.

She couldn't grasp the idea, even as she sat in her tiny cement room.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

She wasn't really in the state of mind to guess that things could be worse, could be harder to wrap her mind around. Then again, she hadn't heard of Section One..

Just yet..

OoOoO

Angel came into the white room where they were keeping his material. A blonde new recruit named Buffy.

She was wearing all white, was in a complete white room. Bright lights were cast down on her. And the sheet she laid on was white as well. All of this made her look even more pale than she was, a little more sickly too.. but that could have been from the drugs.

Angel looked her over, deciding this visit was most likely the one where she was finally going to wake up in. He waited for awhile before walking over to uncuff her and wait, sitting in the chair by her bed. Waiting.

When she did wake, she was groggy at first. He told her good morning, which brought her into panic, She fell from the bed as soon as her pretty green eyes landed on him and went slamming herself into the corner, trying not to panic or cry, trying to understand.

He watched her with his blank, emotionless eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"What is this?" she asked, looking around the bright room, while he stood from the chair and walked towards her.

"Your not in prison anymore," he paused, stopping in front of her. Then he told her how she came to be here.

She was told that her death had been faked. Suicide. And now the world thought she was dead.

As he spoke, she seemed to steel, there was the tiniest bit of cringing into the wall and her eyes silently rained tears, but other than that the girl seemed frozen.

Angel pulled out the picture and looked down before continuing. "This is your funeral," he said and handed it out to her.

She slowly took it, cautiously. And he watched as the realization hit her.

He glanced from her to the photo now in her hands.

"M.. my.."

"Row eight. Plot thirty," he told her.

"My momma.. didn't come?" she asked, tears falling harder, making her chest burn and it hard to speak.

She looked at the picture where her gravestone would later be placed, flowers on where she was supposed to be buried.

No one attending.

She turned her head into the wall and clutched the picture to her chest. He took a step back then walked to the other side of the room. Away from her. And she continued to cry harder as he paced.

He glanced her way, his eyes staying on her as she slid down the wall.

"We've decided to give you another chance., he told her, acting oblivious to what was going on basically, "this is where you will train, this is where you'll learn." He paused, only for a second as she brought the photo to her lips. "And after two years.. if everything goes well.. you'll work for us."

"Why me?"

Angel wondered that himself. She was just a kid. He'd read her file. She was a wreckless kid.

She killed one person, a police officer. Sloppily at that. She wasn't any high time criminal, not like most who were chosen. Not like him, a former terrorist himself before. But he told her what he'd been told to.

"A woman with your looks.. who can kill in cold blood.."

"I didn't!" she cried shaking her head. "I didn't! I didn't kill anyone!" she cried, rising to stand up against the wall. Her eyes pleaded with his blank ones.

He looked away and started for the door.

Angel was tired of her attitude, her emotions.. but he knew them and knew what she was going to try next.

This was a test.

His back turned and he could feel her anger. He could feel her next move.

Her eyes narrowed and she slowly started for her. As she got closer, her arms raised. He waited for the perfect moment and turned, blocking her. A few times over she tried then he flipped her to the floor, his body leaning over hers, his hands holding her down.

"When you attack someone from behind, go for the kidneys. It dissables and they can't fight back. Consider that your first lesson."

He started getting off of her.

"I don't want 'em! I don't want lessons!" she angrily told him, still on the ground, shooting daggers through him.

Angel took a step back, looking down at her, his hands flicking up his hair. "We start tomorrow morning. Five AM," he said and turned.

When he grabbed for the door she spoke.

"And if I don't want to?"

He opened the door. and turned to her. "Row eight. Plot thirty." And with that he left and closed the door.