Author's Notes: What can I say; I have no idea where these story ideas come from. Uh, let's see, there seems to be some confusion, with all my stories. I don't KNOW where this story is going, or when it'll be finished, or what happened. So when I go all mystic, and say 'it shall be revealed to you,' what I'm saying is 'damn, I don't have a clue.' But rest assured, I finish ALL my stories, eventually. (Hey, Joss is a god; he won't miss them for a couple years!) So hold tight, it'll happen. Also, I know this story will seem similar to my story 'Relinquished Control,' when I release that one to the public, but this is a different idea, and this story came first, the idea for it.
Summary: AU after 'Normal Again.' Buffy wakes up alone and cold, back in that 'normal' world. What's happened? Buffy can't remember. What does she know? Her new therapist is eerily similar to someone from her other life.
Rated: PG-13
Date Started/Date Finished: February 5th2003/Unknown
Life In The Sun
By Delenn
“Ms. Summers, our session is almost over. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to say?”
Buffy stared wide-eyed at the person, taking in all their words, as usual, but unable to form her own. She had been crying, and she was going to cry again, very soon. Buffy couldn’t understand why she was here; it was scary and harsh. The person was worse, so she looked down at the couch and said nothing. It wasn’t like she had anything productive to say, ‘hi, I want to go back, I hate being here.’ She could see how she would get points there.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Summers, that you aren’t ready to talk to me. Our session is over, you’ll be escorted back to your room, and I will see you tomorrow, at the same time.”
Buffy felt herself nodding, blankly, because she wasn’t ready to talk. Buffy guessed she would, talk, later, but not right now. Because she couldn’t remember up until an hour ago, and it was raw and painful that she was still here. All Buffy wanted to do was curl up in that horrible room that was ‘hers’ and cry into one of the starched white pillows.
The white-clad person stood up, coat rustling against the seat, and motioned towards the door. A guard came in and helped Buffy up, half hauling her out the door.
Buffy made no move to protest, not ready to face even her own weakness here, not ready to face anything.
As the door closed, the person sat back down, sighing deeply, before turning towards the mirror and loudly asking, “Send the next person in, please.”
“So, Ms. Summers, how are you feeling today?”
Buffy was staring up at the white-coated person in abject horror, everything about them making her want to curl up in a little ball and cry over her lost world. But she couldn’t, she didn’t even know why she was back here, the last thing she remembered was Willow coming in with medicine that would make this world go away. Now she was here, and apparently, so was someone else.
That someone else was staring at her with a slight smirk that should be patented, and stern wire glasses on their face that actually made everything about them sharper. Buffy wasn’t ready for that, and definitely wasn’t ready to read the nametag. She could tell the person was waiting for a response, “Fine, I guess.”
The person gave a little sigh, a disbelieving sigh, but quickly moved on, jotting notes down on a clipboard. “Ms. Summers, can you tell me what you remember from the last time you were here up until our session yesterday?”
Buffy scrunched up her nose in concentration; that was the problem, she didn’t remember anything. “I was… back… and they were making something for me to drink, so I could stay there. Then I woke up here, and the doctor came in, told me I was back and needed to come see you.”
“Do you remember anything between that? It seems like there is a slight gap in time.”
Buffy sighed, her eyes were puffy and her hair was straggly, flopping in her face. She wanted to go to her house, and see them, get dressed and go back to her life. Apparently, though, she had to be cooperative here for that to happen, because it didn’t look like she was going home any time soon. Buffy blew the hair out of her face with a loud huff, “No. I can’t remember. I was just here,” she hastily amended by the look she received, “back here, that is.”
“Is there anything you would like to discuss with me before our session ends?” That look again, only it was more pitiful now, Buffy felt pitied.
Well, Buffy figured that if she was going to get that person’s pity, she was at least going to get something out of it. Using her Slayer training memories, she asked in her most convincing voice possible, “When can I go home to my parents?”
“Ms. Summers,” this was followed by a heavy sigh, “I am well aware of your case, and that the delusions made you quite a powerful person. Despite your very self-assured voice, I am far from convinced that you have put that life behind you. This is only our first session. For our session tomorrow, I would like you to think of some things you liked about that world, and some things you disliked, and then we will discuss them.”
Buffy felt defeated, if she couldn’t get out by being strong, and pity wasn’t getting her anywhere, she felt it was possible that they would never let her go. Meekly, she said, “Okay,” asking even more quietly, “Do you think I’m crazy?”
The Voice – as Buffy had started thinking of the person, so she didn’t have to think about it – was somewhat startled sounding. “Of course not. I think you have a disease that caused a very traumatic six years for you. That’s all the time we have today, Ms. Summers.”
That was her cue to leave, so Buffy nodded to The Voice and got up from her couch. At the door, a worker of the hospital met her, and led her back to her room.
There was nothing to do, the window was high and barred, and the only thing in the room was her bed. Buffy sighed in annoyance, wishing she had done something different to convince her counselor that she could get out of there.
It took Buffy a couple minutes to get settled in the thin plastic chair. The room itself even unnerved her, from the sterile qualities of it, to the metal table, and mirrored wall that was obviously had viewers behind it.
The Voice started cheerfully enough, as if determined to combat her nerves. “So, Ms. Summers, have you thought about what I suggested the last time we talked?”
Instead of the carefully thought over list that Buffy had prepared for this, every word planned to make her seem normal, she blurted out, “I saw my parents again yesterday.”
“Oh,” The Voice strove to maintain a professional level of interest and not pushing her and kept it fairly well. “Would you like to talk about that first? We have two hours today.”
Buffy struggled to forget the people behind the mirror, and tried to remember that this person already knew everything about her, and she didn’t have to be guarded. “It was after our talk. I was asleep, and then there was knocking and they were just there. We talked, well they talked really.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
She cringed at that statement, made so professionally, and so very like a psychiatrist. “Honestly? Good, not so much. I was nervous.” Buffy made a conscious effort to pretend that The Voice was a friend of hers, “It’s hard, you know, seeing them, and I was afraid to say something crazy-sounding, so I didn’t say anything.”
A slight clicking of the pen to paper was the first sign Buffy had of life from The Voice, that it was a normal person, who probably went home to a normal family after dealing with all the crazies. “I understand that in the world created in your head, your mother was dead, and your father MIA?” At her nod, The Voice continued, “Why were you afraid of talking to them?”
They were careful not to make assumptions about her reasons, Buffy noticed. But the reason was probably pretty obvious, and that bugged Buffy, she didn’t want to make the obvious, crazy, reason, so she said the other one. “I guess, I was afraid of being too needy and scaring them off, I mean, I’m like a total stranger to them, right?”
“You’re their daughter though, surely you think they love you no matter what.” This was almost whining in its consistency, a begging of normalcy, without actually asking from The Voice.
Buffy was hasty to reassure, not too hasty because that would have been bad. All the rules she was making were starting to hurt Buffy’s head. “Oh, I know that, it’s just, I don’t want them to think I’m… weird… I guess.”
The Voice kindly dropped a subject she was so unprepared to discuss, “So, then, have you thought about the things you liked and disliked about that world? I would like you to give them to me one at a time, with the reason you liked or disliked them, and then we will discuss each of them further.”
Buffy nodded, even though she knew it wasn’t actually open for debate, she had to agree or she would never get out of there. “I liked having a little sister. It was kind of neat being a role model for someone. I mean, sure, she was annoying and all, but I felt like I was shaping who she was in some way. It was a good motivator, I couldn’t go out and party all night and act stupidly, because she might think that was okay if I did.”
The Voice seemed both pleased and dismayed with her answer, and Buffy wondered if maybe she should have started with something else. “The sister, her name was Dawn, right?”
At her nod The Voice continued, “Having a little sister can be very stressful. Having to be the role model for her as you said, sometimes it feels like you have to be perfect. Especially when all the responsibilities are yours, as when your mother died there, right?” the pause seemed to be more for her sake then a need of reassurance. “Dawn was always there, right, Ms. Summers, always needing you to protect her. You even died there for her, and had to come back because she relied on you so completely. Do you remember what you saw when you believed yourself to be in heaven?”
That stung, deeper then Buffy would have thought. She loved Dawn, she had tried so hard not to resent her, she knew that it wasn’t Dawn’s fault she had come back, but she had stayed for Dawn and…. For Dawn, Dawn alone, she scolded herself at where her thoughts were taking her. “Heaven?” she struggled to remember the question, “Everyone was there, and it was so bright and sunny and happy. It was like total whiteness. I don’t really remember it better then that, I don’t like to. Besides, Dawn wasn’t so much of a responsibility; I stayed because of her sure but also… I don’t resent her if that’s what you mean.”
Sighing, The Voice scribbled on the little clipboard of paper they carried before speaking again. “I’m not trying to force you to discuss something you aren’t ready to. We will talk about everything important in time. All I am trying to do is help you sort your feelings about being here, Ms. Summers.”
Buffy let the subject of heaven drop, she didn’t want to know why they had asked, and she didn’t want to know why she couldn’t remember it properly. However, her choice of Dawn as a pro was no longer quite so appealing as less fond memories of the teenager’s anger at her returned. Deciding to move on to the next subject, Buffy started slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I didn’t like being the slayer. I know you all must think that I liked the power or something, but I didn’t. That was responsibility. I was responsible for everyone, for strangers, and they had to take more importance then the people I loved. I lost people always because of that.”
This time The Voice was gentler, pleased with her answer, but gentler about it’s response. “That’s a very good distinction. Sometimes it is hard to give up a reality where you have so much power over life and death, it is tempting to fall back into those ideals. You obviously understand that power is not always a good thing.”
Her smile was weak at best; she knew that, Buffy hated having to renounce her life with all its trials and problems because it had great moments too. It may have not held her parents, but she had a sister, friends, loves. Refusing to lose herself in this quest for sanity she announced boldly, “Hey, it would have been better with some recognition. Power with recognition would defiantly have been lapse worthy.”
Immediately she clapped her hands over her face, shocked and horrified that her mouth had opened before her brain could edit it, that her words would be taken out of context. Yet, to her surprise The Voice smiled, a grin, a sign of being human. “This is the first sign you have given me, Ms. Summers, of life. You need to be able to speak freely with me or we will not make any progress. Now I think your good mood warrants discussing an important part of your life you have not yet mentioned.”
Holding her breath, Buffy waited, glad that her counselor understood enough not to take her previous words seriously, but terrified at what The Voice would want to discuss. Cautiously, she asked, “Can we please just not?”
Exhaling loudly, The Voice clicked the pen a few times, seemingly deep in thought, their words startled Buffy. “You can’t put off the hard stuff forever, Ms. Summers, those are the things that most need discussion.”
Nodding her knowledge of that fact, Buffy kept her head down and used her unkempt hair to shield her face from scrutinizing eyes. “Please, can I go now?”
A half grunt of disapproval, but assertion nonetheless, as The Voice called out, “Will someone come escort Ms. Summers back to her room please?”
No goodbyes were exchanged, no promises or threats for tomorrow. The Voice simply sat back in the chair and said nothing, as if waiting for Buffy to say something, but she refused steadfastly. This was what it was like to be insane, Buffy thought, people ordering you around, no pride, no choices, and nothing to say on the outside while the voices inside fight.
I belong here, with the crazies, was her last thought as the guard came in and led her back to her room.
“I’m ready.”
The Voice has started to show more emotion recently and smiles widely as I make my proclamation, because there is no question of what I’m talking about. “That’s good, Ms. Summers.”
I still have to look away, I knew this would be hard, but I’ve been told the quicker I work through all this stuff the better chance I have of getting out soon. “We already talked about Angel, and how Riley and I kinda had to break it off, but we didn’t talk about why. I guess you know. He made life there terrifying, then all of a sudden, we were on the same side, and it was like the unavoidable conclusion of the story that we got together. Didn’t work out real well, then I was here. End of issue.”
The Voice has listened to my monologue without expression and while I know it’s happy that I started in on this, can we say skipping the issues much? “Ms. Summers, I understand that this is hard for you, but that is hardly the end of the issue, as you put it.”
I shift a little, looking around the new room we’re meeting in for the first time. No mirrored walls for people to look through, the only way they’ll know how crazy I am is through The Voice’s notes. “You know all of it,” I meekly accuse.
“No, not all of it.”
I lean my head back and pretend I’m here willingly, that this is some normal soul-searching therapy I’m going through. If I don’t face The Voice, it’ll be easier, so I don’t have to look at someone from that other world. “Well, okay, vamp, out to kill me for like the first couple years of meeting me. Didn’t succeed too well, of course I didn’t kill him either, so no big yay for me. Then this government agency, the Initiative, got a hold of him and put this chip in so he couldn’t hurt humans. He started helping us fight the bad guys, then he’s all on about being in love with me and when I came back from dying we realized that he could hurt me without the major headache.”
“Oww, oww, the pain…. Is gone.”
“We kinda started sleeping together after that. Not in a relationship or anything, because I knew it was wrong, and then I was here. There’s no end because it didn’t end.”
I’m still not facing The Voice, but I can practically see their look, the clicking of the pen, I have it all memorized, and it’s all so reminiscent. “Ms. Summers,” it starts, “this is a very important part of your delusion that we need to analyze. The fact that you put yourself in such a position with someone who used to want to kill you and you felt guilty about shows that you were punishing yourself. That is understandable. Inevitably, every world becomes too complicated, too paranoid, and the maker of it has to destroy it and feels guilt for doing so, you can not keep a reality running smoothly in your own head, the characters begin to fluctuate. That is probably the basis for your return to reality. The fluctuation came in the best friend being addicted to magic. What is odd is the seeming genuine attempt at redemption from your lover. Typically, a relationship like that would have been strictly about pain and punishment. Do you understand what I’m trying to explain to you?”
“I love you…”
I’m glad The Voice can’t see me shaking my head because if they could it would defeat all the ‘progress’ I’ve made in the last almost a month. Reality all in my head, it wasn’t in my head, it was real, they were real, and that’s why nobody followed set rules for delusions. That’s why he didn’t follow the rules. “I’d like to go now. We got into it, you can analyze without me.”
I’m up and halfway to the door to call for someone to come get me when I hear my name whispered, “Buffy,” it’s so real I have to spin around for a minute, because I’m sure it’s who I thought it was. But still it’s just the Voice staring back at me.
Staring wide-eyed I watch The Voice clear their throat and say louder, more professionally, “Ms. Summers, I would like if you stayed.”
But I’m shaking my head, no words will come, this was why I wouldn’t get into this, wouldn’t look at The Voice. I’m not crazy; they were real! Or maybe I am crazy that real people here were in my world there. It’s all so confusing! I shake my head again, decidedly, and The Voice gives up, pressing the button that calls someone to come get me.
This time as I’m walking back, I feel more like myself, more like who I was before I died. I feel like Buffy, and I can’t help but wonder, if The Voice is here, who else is in this world from mine?
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