“You’re lucky you don’t have a roommate,” the nurse told her in the morning when she came to get her for breakfast.
Yeah, that’s what I am. Lucky.
Plastic utensils. That’s what she was given. Plasticware – such fine dining. Finding a corner in which she could eat the runny eggs and dry bacon – such a contrast—Buffy nibbled on her bacon and watched the “crazies” in what looked like her high school cafeteria. Some wept, some talked to themselves, some to each other. It was sort of fascinating in a creepy way.
Maybe I don’t belong here, she thought, and started to cry again.
The ring of his cell woke Spike, and he cursed when he hit it with his hand on the nightstand and it went flying, skidding across the floor and under the bed. Nearly falling out of bed in his haste to get it, he cursed some more.
Then a little ring tone of some sort let him know he had a voice mail. Yanking it up, finally, he checked the number. Not a number he recognized. Warily, he pressed the numbers to get to his voice mail and immediately paled upon listening to the message.
Mental hospital? Buffy was in a mental hospital?
Shutting his phone, he reopened it and, with his heart in his throat, rang information about where to call to get a flight out of LAX to Logan. His fingers were trembling, though to look at him, he seemed calm. Inside though, Spike was in a panic. His only thought was to get to Buffy and as soon as humanly possible.
“So, you told the nurse you didn’t know what you’d do to yourself,” her therapist, or rather, the therapist that had been assigned to her said.
Buffy nodded, “Yes.”
He was British, just like Spike. This was going to be just fucking fantastic and helpful. Except, this guy was older. He had short brown hair that was graying at his temples, glasses and thin lips. His name was Dr. Giles. He seemed nice enough, if not straight to the point and a little wary. Buffy had to figure that he had a lot of nut job’s to deal with and was probably a little jaded. Either that or he saw through her façade of threatening suicide and felt betrayed. How weird that a therapist could feel betrayed by something like that. Didn’t he know how much it took for her to come in? Okay, so it didn’t really take much of anything since she reasoned: I feel as though I’m going fucking crazy and I need to go somewhere that is not out there. That’s what the world felt like suddenly. “Out there”. The deep dark “Out there”. Out there her mother was dead, out there Hank had cancer and hated her, out there she was falling for Spike and felt guilty for it…out there he was dating Fred and she was alone…or was soon to be alone. Out there, out there, out there. It was all “out there”.
“Do you want to kill yourself, Buffy?” Dr. Giles asked.
She started, not expecting him to use her name so soon. “No, I don’t. I don’t want to die.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Because I needed to get away from the world. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Do you feel overwhelmed?”
“I feel as if I’m sinking into a deep, dark abyss. I feel like I can’t handle anything past tying my shoes. And hey, my shoelaces were taken. Do you really think I’m going to use shoelaces to hang myself?”
“You threatened suicide,” Dr. Giles said, almost accusingly.
“Well, shoelaces wouldn’t work anyway. They’re not long enough and they’d snap. Besides, I can’t stand anything around my neck.”
“Buffy, what happened to you?”
Oh, so he wanted straight Buffy now. Her eyes welled up in tears. “My mother died after I hadn’t spoken to her in five years. I came home to bury her and met my stepfather that I ended up falling for and then, to make a long story short, I came to Boston to see my father that shunned me and found out he has cancer. Instead of wanting his flesh and blood daughter to be there with him, he wants me to leave him so he can be with his new family. He has prostate cancer. How perfect is that?” She laughed maniacally then. “Guess that’s his karmic payback for fucking around on my mother. Too bad he didn’t get ass cancer though; now that would have been perfect for him.”
“You say you fell in love with your stepfather?”
Buffy smirked. “I suppose that would be the thing you’d focus on after all that,” she said sardonically.
Dr. Giles gave no expression, instead he cleared his throat. “Buffy, do you feel you want to die?”
“No.”
“Harm anyone else?”
“Unless it’s my Dad? No.”
“Then why don’t we start from the beginning. Tell me about your mother and your estrangement.”
“This’ll be fun,” Buffy muttered before launching into her story.
January 11, 2006
After Dr. Giles -- or Giles as I’ve decided to call him—deemed me not about to stab myself with a pen or inflict any such harm to myself, he gave me my journal back. He said that it’s a good thing that I write and that it will help me. He even talked about me sharing what I write.
So, how’s this: BITE ME!!!!
My private thoughts are my private thoughts. I will share them if I see fit. I’m most likely going to share them anyway because I just want to feel better. Like I really want to feel as crazy as I do. Though I’m beginning to wonder if I am crazy or just under a lot of stress. The years have come to a head and all the bad is just gushing out of me like a fountain. I’m Fountainhead. It’s all spewing out of me now and when it’s done, I’ll be cleansed. I’ll be pure. I’ll be a functional member of society and maybe I’ll be as bright and as cheerful as Judith.
Yeah, that’ll happen. Freaking cherry pie on the wall if that happens.
I miss Spike. I wonder what he’s doing…who he’s doing…what kind of daughter am I? I leave her for five years and then I fall in love with her husband? And then, then I get mad about her husband doing someone that isn’t me. How fucked up is that? How fucked up am I?
It’s not that I don’t love her. I do. I miss her everyday of my pathetic life. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could have done things differently, that I don’t wish I could take back every time I’d hurt her…and really, all I’d ever succeeded in doing was hurting myself when I hurt her. It was a nail in my fucking coffin too.
What do you do when you don’t know how to forgive yourself?
It was morning and Buffy was being shaken awake. That was not wise, and Buffy was just about to turn and snap at the nurse when she said, “Spike is here to see you.”
Buffy stared at the nurse. “What?”
“Spike. Weird name. Your…stepfather?”
Buffy gulped and slowly rolled to a sitting position.
“Do you want to see him?”
“Yes.”
The nurse started to leave.
“Which means, I shouldn’t and I won’t,” Buffy told her and started to cry.
“What do you mean she won’t see me?” Spike demanded to the orange haired bully that was currently telling him to keep his voice down. He glanced at her nametag, “Beatrice is it? Listen, Bea, I came all the way from California to see her, let me see her!”
“She doesn’t want to see you,” The nurse stated firmly. She glared at him, giving him the once over. “And I can see why!”
“She’s in a mental hospital; you think she is in a position to make all the right choices right about now?” Spike snapped.
“Excuse me; is there something I can help with?”
Spike’s head snapped to the side to find an older gentleman in a suit studying him closely. “Yes. I want to see Buffy Summers. And Bea won’t let me see her.”
“Dr. Giles, Buffy requested not to see him.”
The man named Dr. Giles studied Spike closely. “Are you Spike? From California?”
Spike’s back went up immediately. He straightened. “Yes.” God, he’d already made a name for himself?
“I’m Dr. Giles,” the man said, holding out his hand. “I’m Buffy’s doctor. Maybe we could have a chat?”
Spike nodded slowly, “Please.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“You came all the way from Boston to see her?” Dr. Giles asked as he opened his office door and stood aside to usher Spike in.
Spike glanced up at him warily. “When you find out the person you care about has checked themselves into a mental health facility, you tend to worry and do whatever it takes to get to them.”
“So you care for her a great deal then?” Dr. Giles said, sitting down behind his desk, placing his hands on his lap and studying Spike with a blank expression.
Spike could do without the look and the question. It felt like an accusation more than a question. “I do care for her a great deal, yes.”
“What is the exact nature of your caring for her?”
“What are you trying to get at, you bloody git?”
Dr. Giles smiled. “I’m sorry. I realize my methods can seem a bit underhanded. I apologize. I just want to help her, as I’m sure you want her to be helped.”
“We’re not sleeping together, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Spike told him. “We live together. We have since her mum died – my former wife.”
“My condolences.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Spike muttered. “Look, she took off to Hawaii for a week with her boyfriend. While she was there, they broke up. She got it in her head to see her father that pretty much discarded her when he didn’t get what he wanted. Her father drops the bomb that he has cancer and the next thing I know she’s sobbing on the phone to me and checking in here. And now she won’t see me?” To his great dismay, Spike started to well up in tears. “I’ve traveled very far to see her, Dr. Giles. I’m worried about her. Is she all right? Did she hurt herself? Why is she here?”
Dr. Giles’ whole demeanor softened. Clearing his throat, he said gently, “I’m sorry, Mr.?”
“Pratt. But I hate that. It’s Spike.”
“I’m sorry, Spike. I can’t disclose the reasons why she checked herself in. All I can say is that she did what most people neglect to do when they have reached their limit – she sought help to feel better. It’s commendable.”
“I knew she hadn’t been happy; we’ve both been grieving and sometimes she’s real good at sharing with me and other times she just closes herself off.” He wiped at his tears. “I’m crying like a Nancy boy, aren’t I?”
“It would appear that you’re under stress yourself.”
“I am.”
“I can assure you that Buffy is fine. She is not hurt in any way.”
“Can I see her? Please? I just want to see her so I can see that she’s all right with my own two eyes.”
Dr. Giles sighed. “I will see what I can do. Have you checked into a hotel yet?”
“Not yet. I came straight here from the airport.”
Dr. Giles smiled softly. “You were indeed worried.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said I care for her a great deal, Dr. Giles. For a while now Buffy has been all I have.”
“Do you think it’s fair to put her in that position to take care of you when she needs to take care of herself right now?”
Spike glared at him. “That’s not how I meant it. I meant that I have come to care for her a great deal in the time we’ve been together. She’s been all I had, and I’ve been all she has. We’ve come to know each other quite well. The last thing I want is for Buffy to be in pain. I want her to be better, but I don’t want her to be alone. She has been alone for far too long in this world.”
Dr. Giles nodded thoughtfully. “I will see what I can do. Why don’t you leave your contact number and I will ring you when I receive an answer.”
“Thank you,” Spike said brusquely, feeling uneasy about this whole damn situation, as if he wasn’t already feeling uneasy about it. Now he had some doctor that was not Fred, to prey upon his already troubled feelings regarding Buffy.
And now he had to wonder: What had she told this quack?
“How long have you been crying now, Buffy?” Dr. Giles asked later that afternoon.
Buffy was exhausted—emotionally, physically and mentally. She’d sat up and sobbed her heart out after she told the nurse to not let Spike in to see her.
”Since Spike was here.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to see him.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
She stared at him incredulously. “Have you been listening to me at all?”
“Do you think you would feel this way if you’d seen him?”
“No…I would have been happy and relieved to see him. But it wouldn’t have lasted.”
“Because then you would have felt guilty?”
“Yes.”
“Because of your mother.”
“Yes. Look, are we going to rehash this crap, or are you actually going to give me something I can work with here?”
“I think you should see him.”
Buffy stared at him. “What?”
“I think you should see him.”
“Why do you think I should see him?”
“I had the pleasure of meeting him after you declined his visitation. He’s worried about you. And seeing how you have been unable to stop crying because you denied seeing him, I think you should see him to alleviate this stress.”
“And then after?”
“We’ll deal with after later.”
“What kind of shrink are you?”
Dr. Giles chuckled. “Trust me a little bit, Buffy, that’s all I ask. Just trust me a little bit.”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“Do you trust Spike?”
“He’s the only one.”
“So, when would you like to see him then?”
January 12, 2006
I’m going to see Spike today. Giles said he’d call for me. I never in a million years thought he’d want me to see him. I thought I was doing a good thing by notseeing him. Quitting cold turkey and all that. Apparently, Giles thinks I’m doing worse for myself. So, is he planning to wean me then? God, I haven’t seen Spike since the day after Christmas. I’m afraid to see him and yet, I so desperately want to see him. What if I’m worse after I do, though I get the impression Giles thinks I’ll be better . . . that could just be me. Wishful thinking.
Spike was early for his visitation with Buffy. Almost a half hour early.
“Spike, how’d I know you’d be here so early?” Dr. Giles joked when he entered the lobby where Spike was sitting, one leg bouncing up and down.
Spike grinned half-heartedly.
“Why don’t I take you down now? No reason for you to wait a full twenty minutes.”
Spike stood and followed him, feeling more and more anxious with every step. “Clean facility you got here. Very white.”
“Nervous, Spike?”
“Yes, I am. I don’t know how to …how to act.”
Dr. Giles stopped and turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she’s not happy. She’s here, which means she’s not happy and I don’t know how to be with her.”
“You don’t be any other way other than how you always are with her, Spike. What would you have said to her yesterday when you were here?”
“I wasn’t thinking anything beyond just holding her in my arms.”
Dr. Giles smiled, “Then do that if you feel so inclined.”
“She rejected seeing me yesterday.”
“Yes, that is true, she did. But today is different, isn’t it?”
“You’re not going to tell me a damn thing here, are you?” Spike asked, grinning slightly.
“Now you’re getting it,” Dr. Giles said, grinning back.
With his heart in his throat, Spike watched Dr. Giles push the door to what he assumed was Buffy’s room. The wooden door was more comforting than the white the facility seemed to endorse throughout. He wasn’t sure why it was better, just that it was.
Dr. Giles stepped aside and Spike pushed his way through. Buffy had been sitting on her bed and now she stood, staring at him. She was dressed in a t-shirt, yoga pants and she must have showered since her hair appeared slightly damp, and she wore no makeup.
He stared at her for a long minute, drinking her in. There were no marks on her, no sign that she’d been hurt in anyway. He met her green eyes, saw the fear and the need and he lurched forward. They met each other halfway. It was a repeat of Thanksgiving when they’d lunged at each other, clawing to get as close as humanly possible to one another.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Spike rasped, never again wanting to feel as desperate as he had since she’d refused to come home.
“I missed you too,” she whispered, crying and wetting his neck where she had her head buried.
“Baby, please don’t leave me…stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”
She said nothing.
“Come. Let’s sit and have a chat, hmm?”
She pulled back and nodded, wiping at her tears and Spike led her to the bed where he sat down and pulled her on his lap. The need to hold her, feel her, was great within him and he was not willing to relinquish any kind of hold on her.
“Tell me what happened, kitten. Tell me all about it.”