TITLE: Normal again

AUTHOR: Richard Bachman

FEEDBACK: Yeah, that would be nice.

DISTRIBUTION: Do whatever you like. As long as Richard is mentioned I’m fine.

RATING: NC-17 Humor/angst

PAIRING: B/S

SUMMARY: Based on the episode Normal Again. Instead of Buffy, Spike was poisoned by the demon and his consciousness was transported into an alternative reality where he found himself incarcerated in an asylum. Although the original well-meant intention of the people around him was to try to cure his illness, our poor bleached wonder ends up being even more crazy then before when realities mix and nightmares follow.

WARNING: This fic is dark and ansty but I suppose that we kinda got used to it after watching whole bleedin S6.

---

Normal again

 

 

ACT 1: Well, at least she cared…

 

I’m not here to see her tonight. I’m not gonna walk up and talk to her. I’m just gonna follow her till she gets to the nerds lair. Watch her a bit. If she gets herself into trouble at least I will be here to watch her back. Throw a couple of migraines at the little wankers before she gets all pissed and tells me to sod off again.

 

I snorted, disgusted at the fact that even my inner voice was turning sarcastic on me and tossed away the burning bud that I had held between my lips for the last 10 minutes. It landed on the small pile of casualties in front of my feet. 34 buds; 12 Marlboros, 15 Barclays and 7 Bristols, since they were on special offer. I didn’t want to smoke that crap till I’ve finished everything else that was decent, but "strolling along" with the slayer every night made me nervous, compelling me to lit one fag after another, keeping the chimney smoking. Since my packs of smokes were getting finished so quickly nowadays, switching over to a cheaper brand seemed to be a good idea, till you actually have to smoke that bloody shit that is.

 

On the open dark street, the small but lithe form of my Slayer finally appeared around the corner. I disappeared into the shadows where I had been waiting for her to turn up after her briefing with the Scoobies. As she was walking along and I stalked behind her, I noticed that she was holding two pieces of stapled-together paper that she studied intensively.

 

So the slayer got the address of the three Nerds of Doom whereabouts. Probably from Red with her rediscovered computer cleverness. Good. That should make things easier for her.

 

I stopped walking when she halted. She frowned at the paper and looked up at a nearby house, then walked toward it. I followed but hesitated as she crossed the street. Better wait here in the dark till she was at the other site. Following her immediately into the broad streetlights might just give away my lurking habits too easily.

 

She peered into a couple of windows. Then walked around the ruin a couple of times. I was convinced that the place was deserted. The Nerds must have already packed and fled the place, smelling the Scoobs tagging their tails. Rats do tend to have a bleedin good sense of smell. Just as I was going to call it a night and was roaming in my duster for a new pack of smokes, a strange sound bellowing through the house like a rancid mountain deer caught our attention. Buffy disappeared once again behind the building, followed by a curious and not-so-careful-to-be-seen-anymore vampire.

 

Turning the corner and facing a dirty alley, I was just in time to see her being ambushed by a pissed off glarghk guhl kashma'nik. A bloody ugly one too if you asked me. The Slayer, with her back turned, was too occupied with thinking up a good punch line to notice that I was even there.

 

"You didn't by chance happen to just eat a couple of nerds, did you?"

 

Winching mentally at her sad excuse for an attempt at being miss smart mouth, I watched warily as the demon took a swing at her. She leaned back and avoided it. It swung again and then tried a roundhouse kick, which my little Goldylocks ducked underneath. Blocking a punch and punching it in the stomach, she then administrated one of her own trademark Slayer kicks, and sent the poor bugger flying against the wall.

 

Well done Luv.

 

The demon was back for round two within secs and hit her to the ground. It grabbed her and threw her against a car. She landed on the hood, making that tiny little squeaking noise that used to turn me on so badly, when I‘m the one who made her squeak that was, not some gory and disgusting demon. I decided that I’ve just seen enough Slayer bashing for tonight and threw myself at our large scaly friend, sending him rolling over the pavement. I got on top of it and served a couple of well - aimed punches into his ugly mug, pinning his lethal arms down with my Docs.

 

"Spike! What are you doing here?"

 

"What does it look like luv?" I sneered, trying to defend myself against her plain annoyance that I noticed in her voice. "I’m helping you out here."

 

"I don’t need your help. Now get off of my demon so I can do my job."

 

"No can do." I panted while turning the already gruesome features of the kashma'nik into something that was coming closely to resemble a plate full of mashed greens. "Having too much fun right now. Need my violence before bedtime."

 

Done with saying that, the bloody wanker of a glarghk demon got me off guard for a sec and headbanged me. Seeing more stars then Dru in her most elusive moments, I backed off and got punched in the stomach. Roaring and drooling, the demon got up and was about to remove my head from my brainstem for ruining his smouldering good looks, when the Slayer jumped off the hood of the car and airkicked it full in its chest.

 

Punch, kick, dodge, dodge, punch. The demon went down and she spun around in full defensive battle pose.

 

"You were stalking me again, weren’t you?"

 

Annoyance in her voice had made way for anger. She looked at me with that other Buffy trademark, the hurt and accusing stare. Great, just what I needed.

 

"No! I was not stalking you!" Trying to sound offended here. " What do you think I am? A sodding creep?"

 

The demon tried to hit the Slayer’s legs but she jumped up, crouched on the hood and kicked it again. Getting off the car with one majestic flip, she picked up a metal garbage can and slammed it on the demon.

 

"Spike! You went into my house last year and stole my clothes to do whatever disturbing things with it! You kept a sexbot in your crypt that looked just like me and you even built me whole freaky shrine! If that doesn’t define your behaviour as creepy then I really don’t know what does!"

 

"I was just making sure you wouldn’t get your ass kicked too much without me or the Scoobies around." I tried. "Getting your Double Medley served by a girl behind the counter who looks like she had been part of the meat process isn’t exactly appetizing."

 

"Spike, shut up."

 

The demon shoved the garbage can out of her hands, then hit her in the face. She spun around and ended up with her face pressed against the car window. The demon grabbed her from behind, but she spun around again and kicked it, and the demon reeled backwards, crashing with its head through the window.

 

A wave of panic shot through me as my eyes caught the glimpse of a long thin bony structure spurting out of its knuckles.

 

Bleeldin hell. She didn’t know…

 

"Buffy! Watch out for his hands!"

 

"Huh?"

 

The demon struggled his head and shoulders out of the busted car window. She tried to grab its arms but he elbowed her off, turned around, grabbed her and locked her tightly against its body.

 

Then it raised its spiked hand towards her, ready to strike.

 

Rage and anxiety boiling in my stomach, I launched myself at the monster, knocking it down. Pinning his stabby limb on the pavement with one hand, I used the other to urgently convince him to let go of her. It growled animalisticly as I planted jolt after jolt on his bloody marble googly eyes. His grasp receded, and the Slayer managed to struggle free. As she was getting on her feet again, I suddenly realized that with not having to hold on to her, mister stab-a- lot had his other hand free to do whatever he bloody liked.

 

"Spike! Watch out!"

 

I turned around a sec too late and saw how the second spike burst out of the demon’s knuckles, right into my stomach, penetrating my flesh and ripping though my organs.

 

"Spike?! Spike!"

 

I gasped, hot searing pain shooting through my body. Collapsing on the spot with my hands reaching for the burning wound I got tossed aside by the demon. My head hit the pavement while the slayer’s screams rang in my ears.

 

"Spike! Spike! Are you alright?!"

 

Well luv, the moaning and uncontrolled shaking should pretty much tell you that I really wasn’t.

 

"You are not going to get away with this!"

 

Anger was vibrating in her suddenly low and dangerous voice. Surprised, I blinked my eyes. So she was going to kill the demon for hurting her favourite fucktoy. Some part of me was actually shouting out of happiness to know that she at least cared, but another should we say more lucid part was yelling something completely different. Put that bint’s temper on a leash! Don’t let her turn the big green into mash yet! My mind raced, fighting against the white flashes of a scattering pain that took over my body, but I couldn’t figure out with the mush that was now my brains why she shouldn’t kill the bleeding demon scum. I just knew she shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t if I wanted to get out of this one alive.

 

"Buff… Don’t…just don’t…"

 

My tongue was getting useless, sitting in my throat like a sluggish snail. My mouth refused to form words. Alarmed, I tried to lift my head off the pavement, only to be greeted by a headache that made a zap from the bleedin chip feel like a Disneyland funride. World spinning, I still overheard the slayer conducting her wrath on the kashma'nik as the snapping of bones and breaking of skulls indicated that she was really not trying to hold back.

 

Bloody hell Spike. This time you’re really, really buggered.

 

Then, all of my senses started to shut down. Pain receded, leaving my body numbed. The noises of combat faded away. Her voice seemed to be far away too, though I knew she was no longer yelling or screaming. The scent of her rage and perspiration was no longer there. Finally, the images of her fighting off the demon, blurry first, deteriorated fast into pitch-black darkness.

 

---

ACT 2: White is NOT my favourite colour.

SCENE 1

Flashes of bright white danced in front of my eyes.

Strange sounds invading the silence; hectic voices, and there was some bleedin wanker screaming like a girl.

More white as I opened my eyes. White walls, white ceiling, white floor.

Bloody hell, what his this place?

"OK now friend! Cool down! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

"Mike! It's no good, he's gonna break the needle."

I gasped as I felt a sharp stinging sensation receding out of my left arm. For some reason, the nancy who had been yelling murder shut up immediately.

"Get him over to the bed and strap him down."

"No! No! Get off me you bleedin gits! Sod off! I don't want to be stabbed with that! It's bad! It's poison! Get away from me!!"

The nancy was back again, yelling, struggling and panting.

~ Bloody hell, was that me screaming all this shit? ~

I looked at myself, horrified. Somehow, my duster, black shirt and jeans have been nicked and were exchanged for a plain minging grey shirt and baggy trousers in the same peachy colour. Two beefy guys were holding me by my arms and dragged me to an uncomfy looking bed in the middle of the white overkill. Struggling like a professional nutcase, I snapped my head around and spat at one of them. The guy pulled a disgusted face and tossed me on the mattress, pinning down both my hands with my arms stretched above my head.

"Mike, secure his wrists! Secure them now!"

I whimpered and begged them to let me go. Tears stinging my eyes. Panic searing through my throat. Something was horribly wrong here. Something was absolutely as wrong as eating kittens in front of little Nibblet's eyes for breakfast.

~ What was wrong with me? Why was I so freakin scared and begging like a bloody poof? ~

They ignored me of course, and strapped my wrists with a set of leather restrains to the steel cased bed. When they tried to do the same to my ankles, I kicked like a pissed off mule, but one of the Florence Nightingales grabbed them after being hit in the chest twice and pinned them down by leaning his whole bleedin weight on them. I wager the bugger was finally getting enough of my inventive ways to piss them off. My mad ramblings were soon replaced by mad screaming when the sharp pain of bones threatening to snap clawed up my legs. Once again they ignored me and even jerked on the leather straps to make sure they were extra secured. I struggled against my restrains, still whimpering like a bloody poof, then finally gave up and let them tie me up. Two heavy leather belts were secured around waist and with that done, I was as only able to wriggle a bit and move my head. Deadly humiliated and agonizingly frustrated, I watched how the two tossers reach for that bleedin needle again.

"Now hold still, this is for your own good. "

No! I yelled. Don't do this to me! But the sharp stinging sensation was back again as the needle penetrated the skin. Akwardly, It didn't hurt as much as I dreaded, and soon a dull blanket of numbness replaced the unpleasant feeling.

~ Oh god, this was exactly like the time when Dru and I went to Woodstock and fed too much on the happy locals. Only far less amusing this time. ~

Feeling the wetness of tears that had stained my cheeks unnoticed and swallowing hard, I listened to the soft voices droning around me, trying to calm me down and put me at ease. Then they were gone and I was left alone to stare at the bleedin white ceiling while I was tripping on whatever they had injected into me.

It could have been good though, this total numbness and fogginess that cluttered everything. I was too paralysed to feel any pain, and it was impossible to hold on to even one single coherent thought, not even one about the Slayer. For the first time since I had that Bloody-awful Buffy-is- shagging-me nightmare my mind was cleared. The hurting was gone, leaving me in an almost serine state of just being, just existing, very much like I used to before everything went to hell because of her. I could stay here, lying in this sterile room, tied up like a bleedin dog and keeping myself busy for the next 100 odd years with looking for shapes of horsies and puppies in the ceiling creaks. Receiving a nice dose of peace of mind every 24 hours a day.

I could let time slip by unnoticed if it wasn't for that bloody awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me that time, wasn't exactly something that I had plenty of.

SCENE 2

The slayer knew that the demon was already beaten. It would take no more but a couple of simple jolts to make whatever was left of it to stagger from its feet and hit the ground. But the Slayer was taken by rage. She felt more hatred towards the heinous creature swaying in front of her then towards any other demon she had ever encountered. Well, maybe except for Glory, or Adam. Or Spike that time he kidnapped Angel and tried to bleed him dry to cure his insane girlfriend. The thought of the blond vampire reminded her how the demon had tossed him aside like ragged doll after piercing him with his gruesome poky things, which by the way, were now harmless since she had broken both its arms and snapped the offensive protuberances off the paralysed limbs. The deadly wounded demon howled, sounding more in pain than in mad murderous anger. But Buffy was beyond sympathy. With one fluid movement, she picked up the lid of a garbage can, spun around and slashed the demon's head clean off its shoulders. Still wearing the rather surprised look on its ruined face, it hit the ground with a dull thump and rolled towards the unconscious body of the fallen vampire, halting in front of his black Docs.

Buffy, panting of exhaustion, moved over to Spike warily, her face wearing a serious frown.

"Spike?"

She crouched beside him, turning his body around. She had hoped to meet his fiery piercing eyes, but they were closed. The gaping wound in his abdomen covered his shirt in blood, but it was barely visible within the black of the fabric. Only when she placed her hands on him and shook him carefully, did she notice how much he had bled. Her white hands tainted deep red.

"Oh my God. Spike! Please! Wake up!"

Shaking him more ferociously now without gaining any sign of life out of him, she swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.

Flashes of memories, her mother lying on her back on the sofa, her face as pale as his and eyes staring at the ceiling, looking at nothing in particular.

He couldn't be.dead?

~Of course he's dead. He's the living undead, remember? Vampires won't die like mom did. She was human. He is not. As long as he doesn't turn to dust in my hands, he's still here. Don't start panicking now and play the stupid bint here. ~

She flinched mentally, hearing her inner voice of reason adapting the vampire's offensive tune. Slowly, she got up and collected herself. She must get Spike away from this place and fast. Dead demons attracted others of its kind, who mainly regarded their dead comrades as yummy treats. Buffy knew so because Giles had told her after she had asked him what the hell happened to all the dead demon corpses that they left behind after slaying, since they didn't go POOF! like the vampires. She had been totally freaked out after the watcher told her, she didn't want to use the dismembered demon bits scattered around here as a bait to test out that textbook knowledge.

Carefully, she picked up the wounded vampire, swaying his arm over her shoulders and steadying his unconscious form with her free hand. His head hung heavy over his chest while his feet dragged over the ground, as she carried him out of the alley.

Pushing back her anxiety into the tiny dark corner in the back of her mind like she had done so many times before in her happy Slayer life, she whispered softly some reassuring words to the blond vampire. Just in case he could still hear her.

"Don't worry Spike. I will get Willow to take a look at you. I will make sure that you'll be all right. Just.just don't turn to dust on me, OK?"

SCENE 3

~ Bloody hell, I'm dust this time. ~

I was struggling feverishly against my restrains. It didn't help much since I couldn't manage to even rip the thin leather bands strapped around my wrist to pieces, let alone the thick belt around my waist. Oh this was rich! Not only was I in some kind of madhouse, being treated like one of the loons who belonged here with all my unexpected an unwanted whining an whimpering, I lost all of my vampire strengths too. Gritting my teeth, I let out a ragged roar, frustrated with my incapability to free myself from my would-be execution place.

Outside my private nutcase's quarters, it was a beautiful sunny day with a heaven blue sky.

I could tell it was b'cause I could see it through the bleedin window.

I woke up this morning, not with the sun on my face but I bloody well could. The wankers of last night had shifted me to another room while I was catatonic or the other room had shifted to me or whatever. Wouldn't surprise me since this was such a fucked up place anyway. The point was that the room I currently was in had a window.

A very big window.

And some sadistic clown had parted the lovely white curtains.

I swallowed as I lifted my head for the one hundred and forty fourth time this morning, anxiously watching the broad band of sunlight traveling over the dirty checker floor, coming toward me ever closer. Soon it would start to crawl up the bed. I had figured out with my sick sense of curiosity that it would probably start with the toes of my left foot, slowly heating it up till it became so hot that it combusted and burst into flames. Then it would leave a burning trail of destruction all over my legs. Those bleedin trousers I was wearing were so thin that they were almost translucent and wouldn't be enough to protect me. By the time it reached my face, the deadly sun must had already burnt half of my organs to ashes, so I would probably don't have to worry anymore about my brains getting fried or my eyeballs getting boiled. There had to be a limit to the damage an immortal body like mine can receive before it gave up and dispatched itself in the draft.

My god, please let there be a limit.

When the beam threatened to start its incinerating ways on my foot, I finally opened my mouth and burst into some mad screaming while banging my head against the steel headboard. It helped, and someone came rushing in, throwing the door shut behind.

"William, please stop this. Stop it! You're hurting yourself!"

A female voice. Probably a nurse. She sounded sincere and reasonable enough, but I was in blind panic.

"Can't! Window! Sunlight! I don't want to burn. Put a bloody stake trough my heart if you like but not this. Not this!!"

Hands pushed me back against the headboard, forcing me to stop my banging. But I didn't bloody want to, the banging was all that kept me a bit sane here, at least I got some of the nervousness distracted from my immobilized body which was itching to jump out of bed and crawl away in a dark corner.

"Don't do this you bloody bint! Don't you see what's going to happen? Sunlight there. Vampire here. We don't bloody mix very well!!"

"William! Calm down. There is no need to."

"There is bloody well need to bang my head on the bloody bed b'cause I'm gonna be burned alive within a couple of seconds!!

"No! Listen to me William, listen to me! You're delusional! Sunlight won't hurt you! You're not a vampire! Calm down!"

"Get me the hell out of here!!!!"

She pulled her hands off me. A small and slim human figure dressed in a white dress and shirt. She walked over to the window and grab hold of one of the curtains.

~Oh thank God, she finally figured it out through her thick skull. ~

"William, I want you to look at me. Look at me or I will not close these curtains for you."

I blinked my eyes. As long as she had been in the room, I hadn't glanced at her once, being too occupied by my own dreads of death. Call me mister Selfish. I didn't even have a freakin idea how she looked like. Now that the bint was standing directly in the threatening sunlight, it was even harder to convince myself to raise my chin and take a good gaze at her.

"William? Are you listening?"

"yeah. I'm listening. Sounds fair enough. I look at you and you make the sun go away. Deal."

"Now then."

Reluctantly, and with eyes watering of staring directly into the blazing sunlight framing the girl, I gazed up slowly.

There, standing in front of the freaking window, dressed like a nurse and wearing a deadly concerned look on her face, stood the Slayer.

My mouth dropped open.

"B-Buffy?"

Fast as lightening, she pulled the curtains completely open, flooding the room with a sea of bright sunlight.

---

ACT 3: Don’t tell me it’s time for a bloody group hug.

SCENE 1

“Somebody! Give me a hand, please!”

Willow, who had been staring blankly at the monitor of her laptop for hours now after her disappointing encounter with Tara previously, was startled by the loud cry for help and jumped right out of her chair.

“Buffy?”

As she was running down the hallway and into the kitchen, the sound of scattering kitchenware on the tiled floor made her heart beat faster in her chest. Horrible scenarios of what could have happened now crossed through the witch’s mind; Did Buffy get seriously wounded? Was Xander found? Was he wounded? Was Dawn in trouble again? Or did something awful happen to Tara?”

“What’s wrong Buffy, are you hurt?”

Glancing into the room, her sense of dread increased as she saw how her best friend’s white sweater was all covered in blood.

“Buffy! Are you – “

“It’s not me Willow. It’s Spike. A demon stabbed him. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he doesn’t seem to wake up. “

Willow took her gaze off the horrified and concerned look on her friend’s face and finally noticed the unconscious vampire lying on the cleared cooking island, his arms dangling limply over the borders like strings of soft pastry.

“B-But the b-blood. On your hands…”

“It’s his. Will, I really need you to take a look at him. Now! Please!”

Willow was surprised as a very persistent Slayer, who was visibly at the brink of her nerves, pushed her towards the wounded vampire.

“ OK Buffy, Don’t panic now. I-I see what I can do.”

She cut open the vampire’s shirt, and took a good look at the wound. It was indeed very nasty and deep, and it was no wonder that Spike had lost so much blood since there were whole internal organs ripped apart and arteries ruptured. But it was not something that a vampire couldn’t recover from. As a matter of fact, she had seen Spike even more injured directly after their battle with Glory, and even then he was able to stumble back to his crypt and show up a couple of days later at Buffy’s funeral.

“There’s nothing in there that cannot be healed. Though this unconsciousness thing is really strange.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, to be honest to you, I thought, you know, he just passed out because of his injuries. But then –“

She pulled up one of Spike’s eyelids and shone with a flashlight right into his eye.

“ – He seems to be very out. I mean, he’s has no reflexes at all and his pupils are so dilated that they almost cover most of his eyeballs. Geez, it’s like he’s drugged or something.”

“Drugged?”

Buffy’s seemingly permanent frown lifted for a moment as she stared at the wicca with disbelief.

“ Uh, well not in the direct sense of the word, but I think that the nasty demon he was fighting had somehow injected him with somekind of poison. Some species tend to have a well-developed toxic selfdefence system. “

Willow gazed up at Buffy, who was just standing there motionless with the roll of bandages in her hand. Her eyes didn’t trail off from the vampire’s face.

“Will he be OK?”

“I don’t know Buffy. The wound will heal but I need to do some research on the demon that stabbed him if he’s indeed poisoned. Can you tell me how it looked like?”

Her friend nodded. Frown back on its place.

“It was all my fault.” She whispered.

Sensing something very odd in her behaviour, the worried wicca was about to ask her what was really going on here, but then the doorbell rang at the other side of the house.

“I get it. You take care of him. “

Buffy shoved the roll into Willow’s hands and headed off toward the hallway.

SCENE 2

“William? William? Can you hear me?”

Someone was shining a flashlight in my eyes and I squinted. I wanted to turn my head away from the offensive brightness and hide somewhere dark, but I was held back.

“William. Don’t fight this. Look at me.”

~ No thanks mate, last time someone as hazy as you asked me to do this, I was treated on a nice hot sunbath. Don’t need any of that right now. Really. ~

“William, look at me son! Don’t go back there.”

The wanker was getting impatient and grabbed my chin, forcing my head up to make me stare at him.

“Sod off!”

“Look at me and I will leave you alone.”

I figured what the hack and opened my eyes.

I was huddled in a corner of another room, also soddin white as expected, but one without a lethally big window for a change. A man wearing a white doctor’s coat was squatting down in front of me. His face was once again awfully familiar, proving my point that this all have to be one bloody awful nightmare.

“Very good. Now stay with us William. Tell me, do you know where you are?”

I must have gazed at the guy who was wearing the Watcher’s features and speaking in the Watcher’s voice with a rich mixture of unbelief, shock and plain horror on my face, b’cause the soddin git figured I was “lost” again and started whacking me.

“William?!” Slap. “William!” Slap. “Don’t go back there son!” Slap “None of that is real! Slap. Do you hear me?” Slap.

“Heee! Stop that! It bloody hurts!”

The Watcher annex doctor Mengele backed up after which I quickly put my hands on my burning cheeks, just in case the wanker tried again.

“Oh Good. I mean, no. Um I’m really sorry for this.”

I shot the bugger a nasty look.

“But it’s good that you can feel something that is real.”

I could feel something all right. Dread, confusion, and pain. None of that was ranking particularly high on my top ten must-experience-that-one! list.

“What is this?” Sounding as pissed off as possible.

“You don’t know where you are?”

“If I know I don’t have to ask.”

The watcher lifted his glasses and cleared his throat, visibly not at ease.

“You are in a mental institution William. You’ve been with us for the past five years. Don’t you remember?”

I shook my head in extreme confusion. What was he rambling about?

“You can’t remember anything?”

“No! This is just not right. I can’t have been here for the last five years. I was in bloody Sunnydale!”

”Oh, but it’s good that you do remember Sunnydale Will -“

“And stop calling me William! It’s Spike! Evil soulless vampire? The Big bad? Remember? What the bleedin hell is wrong with you people?”

“That is not real William! You’re not a vampire. You are suffering from delusions.”

“Well, that’s what your Slayer told me as well before she tried to burn me alive.”

“Slayer? Oh, that’s miss Summers, right?”

I nodded hesitatingly, wary of his strange reply.

“Yeah, her. The small, blond and egocentric one. I wager you don’t mean Dawn that is.”

“Dawn? Um. How do you know – “

Now it was the doc’s turn to gaze at me as if I had lost my bleedin mind, which of course was exactly the whole issue here.

“Um, yes. I guess I must apologize for Buffy’s behaviour. She was reckless to just confront you head on with your condition like that. I spoke to her about it and she saw the wrong in her previous actions. Please don’t be angry with her. She meant well.”

“She wanted me gone.” I whispered, and pulled my legs up against my chest. Suddenly the fog that had clouded my mind ever since I woke up in this hellish place cleared and the first well-known strikes of heartache returned. Oh balls, just what I asked for.

“I thought she needed me,”

“William. Buffy was only trying to help. We are all here trying to help you. You have been terribly ill.”

“I have?” For some stupid reason, my voice was trembling.

“Yes. But it’s going to get better now. You have to keep yourself grounded in reality. Don’t return to that other Sunnydale with the monsters and problems you hate and loathe so much. They are not real, only figments of your delusional mind. Stay here with us, and we will make sure that you will fully recover.”

I panted in distress, strange feelings swirling in my stomach, my eyes fighting against a good bawl.

“Oh, that would be nice for a change.”

The watcher smiled sincerely. He came to sit next to me, and patted on my shoulders till I composed myself a bit. I couldn’t help but think back at the time he shoved me against the wall at the Magic Box after the Scoobs found out I told Buffy what I felt for her. The man had been full of hatred, almost able in wishing me dead only by staring at me in disgust. Now the wanker was sitting here, trying to comfort the disgusting soulless vampire who had tried to get to his Slayer? Bloody hell, and he’s trying to convince me that all this was real?

“Better now?”

I nodded. Not knowing exactly if that really was the case at all.

“Now then William, I want you to meet someone. Please come with me.”

SCENE 3

“I came as soon as I heard the good news. God, I still can’t believe it. Four years and eight months. I almost gave up on him.”

“Don’t say that. You have never given up on him. You came here every weekend and every Holliday to visit. And you only handed him over to us when it became impossible for you to take care of him yourself. That’s not giving up.”

“Yes, but everything has gone to hell all the same, hasn’t it? I should have been here for him, perhaps then we didn’t have to wait for five fucking years to get him back. “

He kicked the chair next to him in boiled up frustration. Buffy looked up, startled.

“It’s not your fault mister Byron.”

“Oh really?”

They were sitting across each other at the desk in Giles’s office. An awkward silence hung in the air, as both of them didn’t know what to say for the moment.

Finally, the dark haired man gathered enough of his courage to ask her the one question that had spooked through his mind ever since he picked up their phone call.

“Does he remember anything, about the accident?”

She shook her head.

There was a slight sign of relief on the handsome man’s features that before was mainly shrouded by guilt and visible pain.

“Perhaps it would be better for him not to.”

Puzzled by his remark, but seeing no need to upset him even more by asking any further, Buffy was relieved to see Giles enter the room with William, who was still walking rather unsteadily on his legs.

“Hee, look who we got here! Doctor Giles and William!”

William’s face changed when he got sight of her and it made her flinch inwardly. He didn’t trust her; she noticed the hurt on his face and the accusing stare in his piercing blue eyes made very clear that he rather wasn’t in the same room with her.

Perhaps now was a good time to apologize.

“Look William. I’m sorry for the curtain thing. It was stupid and careless of me. But, I didn’t do it to be mean or anything. Honest. “

~I just thought it would be better to rip away the bandages in one strip then to peel it off layer by layer. Didn’t realize you could freak out like that. ~

She felt rather irritated and hurt when the blond young man ignored her and turned all his attention to the wooden chair that Giles offered him. Once he was seated, he noticed the taller man sitting next to him, and blinked his eyes a couple of times in amazement.

~ Good, at least he seems to recognize his family. That should keep him off the whole “I’m a Big Bad vampire holding a grudge” obsession. ~

Buffy took a seat at the site of her mentor and watched their patient carefully, looking for a sign of recognition on his puzzled face.

“Bleedin hell! What are you doing here you big poof?”

Upset, mister Byron didn’t know exactly how to answer him for a moment.

“Um, Will? It’s me. Liam. Don’t you remember me?”

William arched an eyebrow, then looked around at the three of them. If Buffy didn’t know better, she would say that there was indeed a sign of recognition in his eyes. One accompanied with full-scale horror and disgust that was.

“Hang on here! I know what you are up to! This is a bleedin joke isn’t it? Are the Scoobs somewhere? Hiding behind the doors and laughing their heads of? Where is the whelp?”

“Will, I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Oh shut up. Why did you come back from LA for anyway? I thought you were too busy with brooding over your gypsy soul. “

“Stop this William, we are not here to do ridicule you or put you in any kind of situation to make you feel uncomfortable. We are just here to help you, remember?”

“Oh yeah? Well, then what is he doing here then? Don’t tell me he just happened to drop by on one of the most humiliating moments of my whole bleedin unlife.”

“Please calm down Will! I’m here because I care about you. You’re my little brother and I’ve promised dad to look after you.”

She thought it was not possible, but the rambling young man’s face turned even a shade whiter then he already was after the words sank into him.

“No! Oh No! NO! NO! We’re not brothers. We can’t be! You’re a vampire! You’re angel!”

Buffy noticed the frown on her mentor’s face that grew tighter with every word their patient spoke. Soon he would be taking off his glasses and rubbing then clean on his coat frantically. She hoped he wouldn’t have to because once that happened, things were really starting to look grim.

“Angel? Who is Angel?”

Liam Byron looked confused at the two medical experts, who are now trying hopelessly to keep their composure to look professional.

“Um, that’s his imaginary Grand Sire if I’m not mistaken, the master of his Clan. He seems to think that this mythical creature of darkness has a rather striking resemble to you mister Byron.”

Liam sighed and tried to calm his little brother by placing his hand on his shoulders, but William brushed it away feverishly, as though he believed that the reality of his kin’s unwelcome presence was somehow contagious.

“Get your soddin hands off me!”

“Will, please. You’re scaring the hell out of everybody.”

“What do you want Angel? Did you hear that I got chipped? Did Dru tell you? And now what, you came her to take care of me now I’m a neutered vamp and unable to defend myself against these pesky humans. Is that it? Well sod off and go back to LA! You left Dru and me ages ago and we don’t need you anymore!”

“William please.”

“OK this is getting totally out of hand. Let me get someone. “

Buffy left behind the desk and spurted out of the room to find help. She bumped into Mike and with the help of the sturdy orderly she managed to restrain the out of control patient. She injected a dose of narcotic into his arm to help him calm down. William sank back into his chair in quicker then a minute, holding a million yard away look in his eyes.

“Will? Will!”

“Um William?”

Giles waved his hand in front of the young man’s eyes; there was very little response. He took the tiny flashlight out of his pockets and shone in his pupils. Still no reaction.

“Buffy.”

The senior assistant stared at the doctor with a guilty look on her face.

“Let’s see to it that we don’t administrate heavy drugs to patients with previous catatonic disorders from now on, shall we.”

---

ACT 4; Being subjected to sudden seizures of blackouts in combination with consuming large quantities of odd flavoured milkshakes means pretty much that you’re a hazard to yourself and your direct environment.

SCENE 1

It was quiet in Joyce’s bedroom. Even the old, rudely loud clock hanging on the wall above the vanity mirror seemed to have improved on his behaviour. Dawn hardly noticed the time ticking by. She sat on her mother’s bed, carefully watching a well-attended vampire.

It might have been imagination, or her own craving to see him getting better, but there seemed to be a slight change in his features which had been deadly motionless for over hours now.

Spike’s eyelids were trembling.

“Spike, can you hear me? It’s Dawn!”

She wondered if he was dreaming. Can vampires dream anyway? She made a quick mental note to ask him as soon as he got better. The teenager was one hundred percent sure he would. Buffy and the others won’t let him just slip away like this. She wouldn’t either. Not after everything what he had ever done for her.

Dawn reached out her hand and toughed the vampire lightly on his cold cheekbones. Her fingers travelled up and halted when they reached the now perfectly still eyelids. Hesitatingly, she lifted one of them, receiving a blinking reflex from him as a pleasant surprise.

“Spike!”

She jumped up and did exactly what her older sister had done a couple of hours ago; she planted her hands firmly on his chest and shook him feverishly, trying to get him snap out of his comatose state.

“Spike! Wake up! Wake up! It’s me Dawn!”

The eyes-fluttering thing intensified. A soft moan escaped the vampire’s parted lips.

“Oh please wake up now!”

She was rocking the vampire so vigorously that he almost rolled over to one side. Dawn didn’t care, Willow had told her that his flesh wounds would heal, but if he didn’t regain his consciousness within a couple of days, he might never wake up ever again. The teenager didn’t want to lose his vampire friend. He was immortal. He was supposed to be the one who would always be there for her.

“Spike! Please!”

A wave of relief washed over her when his eyes opened reluctantly. Blinking at the harsh light of the ceiling lamp.

“Spike! You’re awake!”

He gazed around, disorientated, and found the little girl sitting next to him on the broad double bed. Knees and shoes resting on the sheets, staring back at him with an almost crazed out happiness shining in her eyes.

“Dawn? What are you doing here?”

His voice cracked, worn out like an old leathery shoe. As a matter of fact, his throat felt so awfully dry that he wondered if he might have accidentally swallowed one.

“Buffy and Willow asked me to take care of you. You’re in my house right now, in mom’s room.”

“Buffy? Is she still here? An-and Giles, where did they all go?”

Dawn gazed back at her vampire friend, worried.

“Buffy went to get the demon that did this to you. But Giles is still in England. Do you want me to call him? “

“Oh. No. No don’t.” His head was spinning again, nausea welling up in his throat like bitter bile. “I don’t want him dragging the bloody poof with him.”

Dawn was seriously getting nervous now.

“Spike? What are you talking about? Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine lil’ bit.” Lying between his gritting teeth. “Let me straighten up my mind a bit before I ramble any further and start to freak you out completely here.”

Dawn helped the vampire up and placed a soft cushion behind his back to support him into a sitting position, reasoning that it was much more difficult to doze off like this then when lying all stretched out on the comfortable bed.

“What happened?” She asked with a voice full of concern while she handed him a glass of water.

Spike took a couple of grateful gulps. The coolness helped to get the to him more then horrifying traces of the nightmare out of his system.

Dawn waited impatiently till the vampire had finished his drink and handed her back the empty glass. She put it aside and squatted next to him, staring at him as long as it would take till he spilled out the beans.

“Your big sis and I were ambushed by a pissed off demon. Was just a sec too late to dodge away from his stabby arms.” He shrugged. “Put up a good fight though.”

“I know about the demon. Willow did some research using Buffy’s descriptions and found out that it was a glarkul cashmajick or whatever.”

“It’s glarghk guhl kashma'nik.” He corrected her. “Stick with me Nibblet and you might actually learn something here.”

Dawn managed to smile a little. It was good to hear him joke around again. Hopefully this was a sign that his condition was really improving.

“Anyway, that’s not what I meant. I wanted to know why you were asking for Giles.”

~ And that comment about someone being a bloody poof needs some clarification too. Although I might already have an idea who you are referring to. ~

The vampire didn’t answer her as easily as she had expected, but asked a question himself instead.

“Red found out? Did she tell Buffy about the antidote?”

Dawn nodded enthusiastically. “Yes she did. As I said they went to collect the demon who did this to you.”

“So your big sis didn’t kill it yet?” he asked hopefully.

“Well, she did, but Willow reassured us that if the corpse was still fresh and intact, we could use it to extract the antidote.”

“And how exactly did Red define the word intact?” Spike had a very bad mental picture forming that suited the Slayer thrashing the kashma'nik soundtrack from his memories far too well.

“Uh, I think she meant with intact that all the body parts must still be attached?”

Spike flinched.

“ But you know, Buffy wouldn’t –“

“Oh balls, I’m really done for this time.”

“Hey! Don’t say that! Buffy is the Slayer, not some psycho serial killer! When she does her job the worst thing she will do to them is break their necks in a very clean and not too distressing kind of way. That should leave all the body parts on their places. Right?”

“Is that what she tells you? Bullocks! So now what? There is an official board now for National Demon Healthcare that makes sure she doesn’t inflict too much pain on them before she finishes them off? Hand me over the number Nibblet cause I sure want to make a few complains about her myself.”

“All I was saying was that she doesn’t enjoy killing living creatures. Or hurting them as a matter of fact. She has morals.”

“Yeah well, I don’t think your big sis sees the need to apply them on demons though.”

They both fell into an uncomfortable silence. Dawn noticed that Spike wasn’t at ease talking about her sister. His last remark sounded rather bitter and hurt. Perhaps it was time to shift their conversation into a different path.

“Um, You know it can take a while before they are back. Maybe we should get you downstairs and we can watch some TV together. Passions is up in half an hour and I can make you some of my famous banana-weetabix peanut butter milkshakes?”

A thin smile appeared on the vampire’s lips and Dawn felt relieved to be able to break his peculiar mood.

“Sounds just peachy Nibblet. And who knows, I might be able to crawl downstairs before the end credits starts.”

“I’ll help you.”

She took his right arm and swung it over her shoulders, then supported him back to his feet. Although swaying a bit unsteadily under his weight, she managed to inch him towards the stair foot by foot.

“I was thinking, that milkshake of yours could use a bit extra to give it some texture. Do you still have those little chocolate coated marshmallows?”

Dawn looked up at his vampire friend and gave him a radiant smile.

“Lemme have a look once you’re settled.”

SCENE 2

“William? William! Please snap out of it!”

Crouching beside the passed out young man still sitting on his chair, Buffy rubbed the skin where she had injected a second dose of anti-narcotic into his arm till it was turning scarlet.

~Oh come on, I can’t give you more than this. You really have to do it on your own now. ~`

“Buffy, um, don’t you think the Butanal needs a little time before it’s activated in his system? Crushing the arterioles beneath his skin is not really going to help the drug distribute itself anymore efficiently.“

“Oh, I guess not. Sorry.”

She let go of his heavily abused left arm. It fell limp beside him and dragged his whole body down, launching him to one side with his head heading towards the floor.

“Oh no! You’re not going anywhere!”

She stopped his fall just in time, slipping underneath the comatose patient and holding him back with her head and hands. She ended up looking rather comical, like a mechanic who got caught underneath his car when the jack broke down.

“Guys? I can really use some help here. B’cause, you know, heavy?”

Both older males in the room had been caught up in a serious conversation and the sudden interruption by the senior assistant made both man turn their heads towards her in surprise.

“Oh sorry. Here let me get him.”

Liam grabbed his unconscious brother by his arms, lifted him up and allowed Buffy to crawl underneath her heavy package.

“Perhaps you should take William back to his room Buffy. I don’t think it’s going to do the patient any good to let him just sit here and tumble off the chair every ten seconds.”

Buffy dusted off her uniform and gazed at her mentor with a pleading look on her face. Lips ready to pout.

“But he’s coming around any second now! The Butanal has got to work, believe me, twice of 400mg of that stuff is more then enough to even get an unconscious elephant back on his feet!”

“Buffy.”

“ He can sit here quietly and I promise to keep him steady.”

~ OK I know I’ve screwed things up for you Giles. But give me chance to make it all better. Please don’t make me look like the complete overeducated but totally incompetent med student in front of that cute Liam guy. ~

“There is something Mr Byron and I need to discuss rather urgently. But I trust William to be well attended for in your hands.”

“But –“

The stern and annoyed look on her mentor’s face told her that he was far beyond the but-phase oft their conversation for now. She rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“Good, now as I was saying mister Byron, one cannot dismiss the facts here. You’re brother displays clear indications of unreasonable fear and anger towards your imaginative alter ego. Now as a professional and dare I say expert on my field, I can only conclude from my observations that William may have some serious trust issues.”

“Well a big DUH, and he’s really not the only one.”

Giles turned around and saw Buffy still standing near the door.

“Oops, did I say that one out loud?”

The practitioner gave her a very nasty look, and she decided wisely that it was about time to leave the two gents on their own.

“Um, I go see if Mike is still around to give me a hand, you guys have a nice chat.”

SCENE 3

Dawn was finally losing her guard on the wounded vampire till she came back from the kitchen and tried to shove the third serving of super creamy- frosty marshmallow milkshake into his hand, and found him winching on the sofa as though he was in serious pain.

She spilled half of the milkshakes over the carpet.

“Oh-My-God! Spike! What’s wrong?!”

“Get away from me with that bleedin needle, I don’t want to wake up in your crackers reality!”

Dawn slammed the tall glasses on the coffee table and grabbed him by his shoulders. The vampire’s face was still flinching and his eyes were held shut tight.

“Spike? What are talking about? What’s going on?”

She shook the vampire, his body flung back and forth like a old ragged doll.

“Oww! That bloody hurts!”

The delusional vampire launched himself forward, clasping his left arm with his right hand as if he was stung and ended up banging his head on the coffee table, knocking over the milkshakes.

‘Spike!”

“Get away from me!” His voice was muffled, as his face was buried underneath his arms that he folded over the back of his head protectively. “Get the bleedin hell away from me! I don’t want to be normal! I don’t want you to hurt me again!”

Dawn stood beside the vampire, frozen in shock. This was really bad. Willow told her that Spike might wake up suffering from hallucinations, but everything went fine till she got the boneheaded idea to leave him alone for a couple of minutes to get the stupid shakes. If he’s going to continue to freak out like this there was no way she could stop him from hurting himself. She would have to wait till the others came back.

“Please Spike, calm down. There’s no one here who wants to hurt you. You’re safe.”

Hesitatingly, she kneeled beside the vampire who was still huddled into a tight heap.

“Spike?” She whispered softly, and tentatively patted his hair, running her fingers through his short blond locks. “Please stop this. You’re scaring me.”

“B-Buffy?”

“Buffy is not back yet, but it’s me, Dawn?” The sickening notch that her stomach was tight into after his friend’s unexpected seizure relaxed a bit. At least he was still conscious.

“Nibblet?”

“Yes! I’m here.” She administrated a hopeful but wavering smile.

“What happened here?” He raised his head and struggled up from the tabletop, which was now a complete slippery mess. Disorientated, he gazed around finding himself away from the sofa seat that he had been comfortably settled in while watching his favourite soap opera. A drop of thick white liquid ran down his cheeks and the vampire caught it distractedly by sticking out his tongue. He tasted it, licked his lips, and gazing at Dawn in confusion.

“And why I’m all covered with chocolate marshmallow shake?”

---

ACT 5: Getting unconscious with your eyes wide open freaks people out and tends to dry out your eyeballs.

SCENE 1

“Oh bugger this. This is really getting daft. Timmy fell down the well again? Doesn’t the kid ever learn not to wander around in the middle of the night without even so much as a flashlight?”

Hanging out leisurely on the Summers’ family sofa, I nested myself under the warm and comfortable electrical blanket, Buffy’s blanket that the lil’bit took clean from her bed, and munched on a handful of Weetabix in my mouth. Never mind the crumbs.

“This program had gone down the toilet ever since they switched producers. Could have shoved a typewriter in the hands of a Fearall demon with the intellect of a glass of tap water and still gotten a better screenplay written than this crap.”

“Hmm, maybe this time they are getting smarter and they will leave him down there. You know, put a heavy steel lid on the well. Seal it off with some black tape.“

I turned my head and gazed at lil’ bit who was sitting next to me, also in a traditional Slayer annoying position with her shoes resting on the antique coffee table, and clearing out the breakfast cocoa cereals right out of the box.

“Oh, sure, throw in a couple of flesh eating bugs, close the lid and seal it off. Brilliant. Put up a big flashy sign on top saying: “Contains dangerous little twat, big hazard to himself and to his direct environment within a half a mile radius. Do not open until next century or until subject proven clinically dead.“

Dawn looked at me and burst into a healthy laughing fit. It did me good to see her smile like that again. She had been dead worried ever since I came back from my quick trip down to the psycho version of the Never Never land.

“You teenagers are so cruel.” I added, acting like I was deeply offended or something, and got a handful of sticky cereal thrown into my face as a response.

We watched a bit more bad telly, then switched over to UPN and caught an episode of Dilbert. Never though that white-collar work floor humour could be funny, but I must say that lil’bit knew how to pick her entertainment. For a short twenty minutes I forgot all about the mess of being deadly poisoned and having those grotesque out of this world hallucinations. I just kicked back my feet and enjoyed the show. By the time the late news was on, I was feeling a grand bit less grave about my unlife-threatening troubles.

Till Nibblet started reminding me of them again, that was.

“Spike, um, can you please tell me now what happened to you earlier?”

I kept zapping from channel to channel absentmindedly, keeping my eyes fixed on the TV screen.

“Spike?”

“Why do you want to know Nibblet?”

“I dunno. You just seemed so hurt.” She paused. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, that’s all.”

I leaned back against the soft cushions with the peachy I-love-sushi print (once again nicked from the Slayer) and tossed the remote between my legs. On the telly, Bob Barker was about to give away a whole hand painted china tea set, but it is difficult to concentrate on the daft show when you’re busy ignoring someone you actually care for.

“Look Dawn, I don’t think you have to wor-“

“You weren’t here when you acted like that. I know it sounds totally weird but it was like you didn’t know that you were in the living room anymore. You didn’t even notice me standing there. You seemed to be someplace else.”

I turned my head and studied her intensely. Sometimes I wondered if there was still some trace of mystical power left in the ex-key to the universe, forced into this frail human form of a teenage girl. She did seem to notice things far easier then the uptight Scoobs.

“So, what kind of place were you in?”

I swallowed hard, and averted my eyes from her.

“Spike?”

“I think I was having hallucinations. Probably tripping on the stuff the demon japed me with. But God, it felt so real.” I paused, staring back at her, not sure how to explain it all.

“I was locked up in some kind of loony-bin. White walls, barred windows, anxious atmosphere, the whole bleedin package. They manhandled me a lot so I suppose I was a patient. There were people there, doctors and nurses. And…somehow, they turned out to be real people. People I knew. Come to think of it, it was more like a bloody reunion.”

“Who was there?”

I buried my face in my hands, rubbing my temples.

“They, um, …”

Brilliant Spike. You’re gonna tell her now about your twisted versions of Buffy Nightingale, Doctor von Giles and your Big Bro Angel?

“Was Buffy there?”

I looked up at her, again, surprised.

“Every time you came back you had her name at the tip of your tongue. It was an easy guess.”

“Oh. Well then, yes, she was.“

“Was I there?”

“Why are you ask -, no Nibblet you weren’t.”

“Then, how come Buffy was?”

“What?!” I could have literally been knocked backwards by stupid amazement after hearing her odd question. Well at least I would have if it weren’t for the fact that I got myself nicely tucked in under the Slayer’s borrowed stuff.

“Dawn, I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking, but this isn’t a bleedin popularity contest! It’s a hallucination, a delusion composed of little figments of my twisted imagination. Honest Nibblet, you don’t even want to be part of it. I certainly don’t want you to be.”

She gazed back at me, obviously busy musing with her unreasonable teenage mind if she should still get pissed off about this one. I held my breath even though I didn’t need to breathe. Dawn’s high-pitched wrath would be a bit too much for me to bear right now.

“Was it a nice place, with Buffy? I mean, do you want to go back?”

I sighed. Turned out she wasn’t going to be mad at me at all. She was only worried that I might leave again.

“No, it was bloody awful.” I answered truthfully. “And I was really glad that you were here as soon as I got back.”

She smiled happily, and before I knew it, she had her arms draped around me and was hugging me for all that was worth. I winced a bit when she threatened to make me bleed again.

“Careful, still shifting organs in there.”

“Oh, Sorry!” And as fast as her hands were on me, they were gone.

“So um, you will be staying here with me?”

“I wish I could make everything happen the way I wanted, Nibblet. But as sad history has proven by kicking my ass numerous times, it’s not that simple. I think I will need some help to be able to stay away from that place.”

“I can help you! I won’t let you go back there! No more walking away to get unhealthy snacks or sugar rushes. From now on, I’ll keep a constant eye on you and make sure you are all right till the others are back with the antidote.”

I watched her naïve but so very eager display of enthusiasm to keep me safe. So at least someone in this soddin bleedin reality was giving a damn about this disgusting soulless thing. Dawn genuinely cared. There was no guilt or selfishness that moved her to do all this. Though it was hard to even admit it to myself, it did me good. Perhaps even an evil badass vampire needed some care and affection. At least the Slayer’s little sister wanted and needed me.

“Just don’t let me doze off again, and I promise that I’ll be fine.”

Nibblet gave me a huge confident grin.

“No problem! I have a big collection of videos that we can watch together tonight. It will be like a slumber party, only without the slumbering or the wacky pyjamas. Let’s see, have you seen Attack of the Clones yet? My friend got it downloaded from the net and has put it on tape for me. It’s really good.”

I returned her warm smile, although I really thought that the whole bleedin Star Wars trilogy was a badly composed piece of commercial crap made up by a clever rich git to shake the money out of the pockets of little kids and sad middle-aged wankers daft enough to buy it all, I was ready to face two and a half hours of full dread to make my little protector happy.

“Sure. Pop it right in, we’ll give it a try.”

SCENE 2

Mist, midnight and a full moon. The warmth of summer seemed distant and far away, though it was the mid of May. Strolling along the empty streets, the three core Scoobies were heading for the alley where Buffy had butchered the glarghk guhl kashma'nik.

“So let me rephrase our plans again. We’re going down the wrong side of town to interrupt some demons during their fancy dinner party to rescue certain parts of a dead demon’s anatomy to save another almost dead demon’s ass?”

Xander, who had popped by the Summers’ residence in the hope to find some much-needed comfort for his Anya-heartache from his best friends, had been surprised to find both of them very occupied already with attending a badly injured Spike. Although Willow and Buffy were indeed very happy to see him again, the centre of their attention had been diverted to the vampire, which Xander thought was a bit exaggerated. The Big Evil Bleached One had his ass kicked numerous of times. Petty physical injuries wouldn’t stop the cocky vampire from staying away from the people he cared for, and though it was, of course, a bit childish of him, he was starting to feel just the tiniest hint of jealousy sticking up its green head above the tall grass of reason.

“Do we really need to get the antidote for him? Spike is vampire, don’t they have a natural immune system to other evil things?”

“Xander,” Willow reasoned, “You’re mistaking Spike for a weird species of Australian spider. He’s really in danger here with the demon’s nasty toxin rushing through his system. Let’s not make fun of this serious situation here, OK?”

“All that I was saying was that perhaps we should have thought about whether this heroic action of ours is really necessary or not. That’s all, not trying to joke on an undead demon’s expense here.”

Buffy, who had been growingly annoyed with the constant nagging of her friend, but had saved her breath so far to correct him on his immature behaviour, spun around and addressed him, agitated.

“Look Xander, if you don’t want to come with us, then go back and stay with Dawn, will you?”

“I can’t leave you and Willow to go down that demon infested alley alone. What if there are more of these stabbing nasties around?”

“Then stop complaining and start helping us. “

“I can’t believe you’re actually concerned about Spike. I’m telling you, he’ll be all right, Spike can take care of himself. He has the annoying habit to heal pretty fast, may be already up and running, hanging in front of the TV and clearing out your kitchen cupboards as we speak.”

“Guys, this is not the time to argue about this.” Willow tried.

“Tell me Xander, how am I supposed to react? Spike is injured because of me, and he may or may not be in life-threatening danger, but he’s a part of the team now, after all that has happened. And as a team, we help each other out. You’d do the same if it was Willow or me.”

Xander averted his stare from the Slayer’s. Her call for his solid conscience did the trick and a good portion of guilt swept the floor with the green little man of jealousy. Buffy had a point. Spike was completely trashed and needed all the help he could get from the people who came closest to being considered his friends.

“ OK, I suppose he did some good once and a while to justify our exertions here, but he better be still lying unconscious and bleeding when we get back. I’m not endangering my life for him if he’s not even in somekind of serious danger.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and turned away.

“Guys! I think we found the alley.” Willow yelled, and shone her flashlight in the direction of the trashed car that Buffy had jumped off and on to fight off the demon. As the light bundle travelled across the trashcans and junk littered alley, dark, ugly looking creatures scuttled away like overgrown rats, making high-pitched screeching noises that gave the witch the wiggins.

Buffy walked up to Willow and grabbed a small blade that she had hidden in her jeans pocket.

“OK guys, stay behind me. I think I’ll have to clean out this place before we can even start looking.”

Just after she said that, a big, hairy creature with no eyes but a mouth full of razor sharp teeth attacked her from the side and knocked her down. It sat on top of her and pushed its horrifying face down, ready to dig in its fresh meal.

“Eew, ever heard of freshmints?”

The creature shrieked, blowing his sewer breath into her direction.

The Slayer gasped for some much needed fresh air.

“Guess not.”

Buffy tried to turn away from the enormous mouth, then remembered her knife and stabbed the creature right in its back. It squealed and wriggled in pain, Buffy stabbed it again and the creature let go of her, jerking intensively with its stubby limps.

“Buffy, watch out!” Xander shouted.

She spun around and faced another eyeless rat creature, ready to strike out at her.

“Have you two had the same dish this evening? B’cause if you have, I’m sorry, but I’m not even gonna give you the chance to come near me.”

She threw the knife; the sharp blade penetrated the creature’s soft belly, and as it let out a terrifying shriek, a thick black fluid exploded out of the wound and covered Buffy’s coat.

“Hey! I just had this steam cleaned!”

Buffy did a high jump kick and sent the dying creature flying against the wall. Then she spun around, looking for the next demon to challenge her slaying abilities. She was happy to find that most of the flock of mutated rodents had chosen to leg it in the meantime, after watching their comrades fall like dead leaves. The alley was now, except for the three friends and some scattered demon remains, totally deserted.

“Whoa, those creepy crawlers were nasty. Buffy, are you all right?”

Xander, who had been knocking on a couple of reluctant to flee outgrown rats with a rusty pipe, was helping Willow up.

“I’m fine, don’t smell so good anymore, though.” She wrinkled her nose as she caught the scent of the black gluey stuff that covered her. “Ew, it’s like I’ve been working shifts in the sewer or something. Are you OK Will?”

“Oh yes. I’m OK. Just a bit shaken by the sudden grossness of it all. A couple of those marched all over me in their blind panic to get out of here.”

The witch eyed warily at the still shrieking and wriggling creature in the corner, which was now bathing in a big pool of black liquid.

“Yes. It’s a shame that most of these guys don’t go poof like vampires. It’s far easier to brush vamp dust out of your clothes. I’m not really sure what to do with this now.” Buffy looked down at her outfit and frowned. “Guess I’ll have to burn it.”

“Well, you can’t really blame them for being totally disgusting, guess feeding on a constant diet of dead demon corpses tends to shift the balance of your digestive system into the wrong direction. “ Xander joked.

“Speaking of dead demon corpses, where is the glarghk guhl kashma'nik?” Willow asked.

Buffy frowned again and looked around. She remembered to have seen the demon hit the ground near the wrecked car, but there was no sign of it left except for a faint trace of black icky fluid that seemed to disappear right under the vehicle. The little scavengers must have dragged it away to have a nibble on it in a more private atmosphere. Buffy kneeled down and took a look under the car, but it was too dark to see anything.

“Here, this might help.”

Willow handed her the flashlight, Buffy took it and lit up the dark space. There, lying near the left front wheel, were the amputated remains of what once was the kashma'nik’s arm. Even with the faint light she could clearly distinguish a pale bone sticking through the red oozing flesh. It was as if a couple of rather big dogs had their way with it.

“ Geez, I don’t think I can still use that one Buffy.” Willow said hesitatingly. “The antidote is carried in a separate compartment next to the toxin in the demon’s arms, but I think those happy nibblers kinda munched everything up here. Let’s start looking for the other one.”

Buffy nodded silently; a worried expression appeared on her face as she suddenly realized that their chances to succeed had suddenly been cut down by half. The three of them started looking for the essential body part. Xander stumbled over the demon’s head, while Willow found some pieces what could have been the demon’s upper arm, or leg, she wasn’t sure. However, the lower part carrying the antidote was still missing, and after a full hour of futile search, Xander and Willow pretty much gave up on it. Buffy however, still kept looking frantically.

“Uh, Buff, “Xander tried.

“I don’t understand. It must still be here somewhere. Those greedy little rats couldn’t have eaten both arms. What are the chances of that happening?”

“Well, you kinda admit it to yourself that they were greedy. I think we have to face the facts here. The second arm is probably travelling through the digestive system of one of those Mother Nature’s little helpers right now.”

“Xander, can’t you just stop with your stupid jokes for a moment here? This is serious. Spike is in danger. If we don’t find the arm, then we can’t get the antidote for him, and he may never wake up again!” Buffy yelled, her face displaying frenetic despair.

“Say Buff, you are our Buffy, aren’t you? Cause I’d swear that I just heard the Buffy bot speaking here,” answered a surprised and offended Xander.

“Buffy, Xander is right. The odds of finding it are kinda small here.”

“B-But we still have to try. What if Spike’s body is not able to deal with the poison and he stays like this for the rest of his unlife.”

“Yes, I gotta admit it to you that that is pretty long since vampires tend to be immortal and all, but there is no use in staying here and looking for it Buff. The arms are gone. If you want to save Spike, we have to think of another plan.“ Xander opted. “I mean, hell, there must be more of these stabby green Crinton guys around. We can be hardly talking about an endangered species here. They are demons, not cuddly giant pandas.”

“Actually, there might be a problem with the species’ availability.” Willow said and gazed at Buffy tensely. “The glarghk guhl kashma'niks are pretty much a scarce type of demon.”

Buffy cocked her head, raising a worried eyebrow.

“How scarce?”

“Well, exactly the giant panda type of scarce. The watcher’s journals report that they have not been seen since the last century.”

Buffy’s face suddenly turned very pale.

“In fact, that you were lucky enough to bump into one tonight in this back street alley is almost every watcher’s wet dream. You know, kinda like Dian Fossey encountering her gorillas, but then in the New York Sub instead of the misty mountains of Zaire.”

“B-But what are going to do now? This glark-kul -what-me-nick can be the very last of his kind. How are we ever going to get the antidote if there is no more left of these creeps to kill?”

“Um, maybe we should return to the Magic Box and dig through the books a second time? There has be a reason why this rare demon appeared here in Sunnydale. I know it could be that it has something to do with our good old Hellmouth, but I doubt it. This type of demon is not attracted to the crowds. There is definitely something fishy here.”

“The nerds!” Buffy said. “I’ve been looking for them when I was suddenly attacked by this World Wild Fund candidate.”

“Then they must have summoned it by magic.” Willow frowned. “There is no way they could have asked one to help them out, even if they had asked it nicely.”

“But then this means that there’s still hope, right? Willow, you can go find a demon summoning spell and call a second kul-me-nick to Sunnydale, and I can do my part, which is the slaying.”

“I guess I could do that, but…um…”

“What?” The Slayer inquired impatiently.

“Buffy, Willow can’t perform the spell.” Xander answered for the witch, rather agitatedly. “You can’t expect her to risk falling back into her addiction just because you are so eager to save your favourite pet vamp here.” He was getting pretty angry with his best friend for being so reckless. What was she thinking, Spike might be a part of the gang now, but his unlife was in no way more important than Willow’s well being. Xander was starting to think that Buffy was letting her guilt for what had happened to Captain Peroxide take over her reason.

Buffy stared back at both of her friends, suddenly realizing what she had said to the witch and starting to feel guilty. How could she be so careless when it came to her friend’s feelings?

“Oh, I um, I’m sorry Will, I don’t know what came over me to ask that from you. I ‘m really sorry.”

“It’s all right Buffy. You’re just a tad anxious because of what happened to Spike.” Willow said, trying to comfort the Slayer. “But Xander is right, I can’t help you out with summoning the demon myself. I’m afraid I will be back knee deep in magic before I even lay my hands on a spell book. But I do know someone who’s able to help.”

Buffy looked up determinedly at the red-haired witch; there was a hint of nervousness in her green eyes as she mentioned the specific person who might be able to offer magical assistance, and the Slayer knew enough.

“Let’s go find Tara.” Buffy decided.

SCENE 3

Loud TV noises filled the Summers’ family living room, where the result of a whole night activity of a lazy vampire and a unscrupulous teenager started to show in empty cereal boxes and empty soft drink bottles, littered all over the floor, not to mention the crunchy blanket of spilled crumbs. Spike was still tucked in comfortably under Buffy’s colourful bed linen, his hands placed behind his blond head and his feet resting on the now cleaned up coffee table. His eyes were open, staring at the TV screen on which the battle against the Dark side was fought by a young cocky Dart Vader and a hairy Obi Wan. Dawn was sitting next to the vampire, her eyes were starting to close and her head shifted slowly sideward till it bumped up to her undead friend’s shoulders, making her jump right up again, half awake.

“Whoa! I’m not sleeping! I’m up!”

Dawn rubbed the sand out of her sleepy eyes and pinched her nose bridge. Geez, staying up all night was not as fun as she had originally thought. No wonder

all the grownups still tend to go to bed, even when there are no bossy sisters around to make them. She worriedly turned to the vampire, who was lying motionless next to her, still fully awake and apparently fully absorbed by the movie. Dawn let out a little sigh of relief.

“Sorry. Guess I’m not that used to this whole staying up late thing. Did I miss anything?”

She glared at Spike, but the vampire didn’t answer her.

“Spike? Hello? Dawn speaking here, do you read me?”

Still no reaction.

The ex-key shifted from her seat, and leaned over to her vampire friend, who was still staring at the screen blankly. Dawn hesitatingly moved her hand in front of his eyes, expecting him to react to her, but not even getting so much as a blink out of him.

”Spike!? Spike!”

She grabbed the now obviously unconscious vampire by his shoulders and shook him hysterically, making his head nod like an epileptic string puppet.

“Spike! Wake up! Please! You promised me you wouldn’t go back there! You promised!”

Dawn was getting close to desperate tears. She lost him. Again.

“Spike! You crazy vampire! How on earth could you watch Star Wars and fall asleep with your eyes wide open?”

SCENE 4

Oh God, please don’t tell me that I am where I think I am.

I blinked my eyes, it bleedin hurts. Like someone was poking a couple of needles in them. It cleared my vision though. The blurriness receded a bit and I was able to take in my surroundings. I glanced around worriedly, hoping somehow that my senses were messed up and I was still lying stretched out on the comfy sofa next to Dawn.

White walls all around, white floor at my feet, white ceiling above my head.

Buffy Nightingale just kneeling in front of me.

Bugger.

I tried to jump up out of my huddled position, but found myself pretty much unable to even move so much as a finger. Panting out of full dread, I saw the Slayer’s face hover in front of me like a bleedin hallucination, which was really confusing since I could swear that I already was in one.

“William? William! Are you awake?”

I ignored her and turned my head, looking for a hole or something to crawl away in. Just somewhere nice and dark to hide in for a while till the awful spinning of my head stopped. But Slayer would not be ignored, and forced my swaying head back to face hers.

“William, are you feeling all right?”

“Not quite so. Nauseous. Really, really nauseous.”

“Oh, that must be the anti narcotic kicking in. Don’t panic, should be over in a couple of hours.”

“C-couple of h-hours?” Sweat was starting to trickle down my back and gush down my temples while the whole soddin room continued to dance the bleedin cha cha cha. “You mean, I’ve to feel like this for two more bloody hours?”

“Um, I suggest you give me a sign if you want to throw up or anything. And keep your head still, looking around tends to make things worse.”

I wanted to close my eyes before they would drop out of my skull, but once again, the Slayer objected to my actions.

“Oh no! Don’t do that! Stay awake William! It took me three doses of Butanal to wake you up, and I’m not going to just sit here and watch you doze off again. You have to sit the nausea out without dropping unconscious.”

Her hand reached out and pinched me in my arm.

“Oww. Sod off.”

“Just checking, now open your eyes and keep talking to me, or watch me turn your arms purple.”

I sighed and opened my eyes, treating her on a very nasty look.

“Good, now hold still and keep your head back.”

She put a cool hand on my forehead, forcing me gently to look up at the ceiling. I blinked feverishly b’cause my eyes were now really starting to hurt like hell.

“This should help.” She said and just as I was wondering what on bleedin earth the bint was doing, drops of clear liquid dripped on my tormented eyes, clearing the painful prickling sensation and finally restoring my vision fully.

“Now just relax.” She pushed me back gently and my back hit a soft padded wall. “Don’t try to move too much. The toilet is all the way down the hall. I doubt we can ever make it in time if you decide that you need to barf urgently.”

I nodded a bit, which was enough to send my head spinning again. Keeping my eyes on this unusual version of the Slayer I couldn’t help but wonder why she was even here, taking care of me. But then I remembered. If my messed up mind was recollecting things correctly, this was all a bleedin delusion. Something that that nasty demon juice had done to my brain to make it think, and to make it experience all this as being real. The real Buffy would never be this considered and patient with me. To her, disgusting evil things like me don’t need care or affection. They can take care of themselves.

The thought kept running through my head while she came to sit down next to me and placed her cool hand on my burning cheeks. Her touch was tender and soft, so very different from the handling I had experienced by her before, the raw and lustful embraces as she draped her arms and legs around my surrendered body and made it hurt in all the right places. She ran her hands trough my hair and gently pushed my head on her shoulder, still comforting me as though she cared. As she moved her slender neck, I could pick up her familiar scent, warm and sweet, like late summer’s strawberries.

“It’s OK William. It can all be a little confusing right now, but things are going to be all right. I promise.”

“Why do you even care?”

Buffy Nightingale turned her head to me, puzzled.

“What do you mean by that?”

I swallowed hard and blinked my eyes.

“I mean just that, why do you care if I’m all right or not.”

“I have to care, you’re my patient. You’ve been my patient ever since I took this job, and that’s almost as long as you’ve been here.”

I mentally slapped myself for even having the nerve to feel disappointed. So even the made up version of the Slayer wasn’t really interested in your undead corpse, so what? You’re going to hallucinate some imaginative heartache to go with that now?

“Look, you don’t have to stay here to watch over me. I can take care of myself.”

I yanked my head up a bit too reckless from her supporting shoulder, and got treated on a scabby headtrip that made me wanna heave. I lurched forward, gasping for air. God, what I wouldn’t give to be able to just lie down for a sec to get rid of this soddin feeling of my brains being spun around on a rotating presentation plate.

“William? Are you all right?”

Again a very daft question, indeed.

“Put your head between your legs. That may help.”

I was hardly able to find my own legs, let alone stir my head between them, but the Super Nurse! Slayer came to my rescue once again and pushed my head down. First I found it even more difficult to breathe in my new position, but soon the dreadful feeling receded from my skull, and my frantic panting was slowly replaced by a slower pace.

“Better now?”

I nodded with my head still buried between my legs. She helped me up slowly, careful not to get me gippy again. I wondered how long two bleedin hours could take in this fucked up reality.

“Told you not to move around too much.” She said matter-of-factly. “Now lie still if you don’t want to feel like your skull is going to explode again.”

I did just that, leaning back at the padded wall (oh bloody lucky me, even Dru didn’t get this far) and breathed in slowly. Then I gazed up at her, and noticed that there was something in the look that she gave me that I somehow recognized from that other reality, which seemed now very far away inside this comfy furnished madhouse, galaxies and Star Wars light years away, as a matter of fact. I frowned. Where the bleedin hell did I get that from?

“So.” I said, trying to get this weird expression off her face. “Tell me, what are you going to do with me, your patient here. Aren’t you going to start poking in my head, see how far you’ll get to convince me that I’m not a vampire?”

Buffy looked at me with her unfairly large and bloody innocent eyes. I had mused about it numerous of times, and I was starting to think that it was that bewitching look of hers that had prevented me from killing her when I still hadn’t got that bleedin chip in my head. Never mind the fact that she could kick my ass even before I was chipped.

“I’m not here to make things difficult for you William, but you have to understand that you’ve been very ill. Believe me, I know that b’cause I’ve watched over you when you were still in that catatonic state and I was the first to be by your side when you returned to us. Now that things are finally looking up, I’m really not going to turn my back and walk away on you. Perhaps I should have said it differently, but I do care about you. Not only because I have to, but also because I’ve known you for so long.”

She averted her eyes for a moment, almost as if she was too embarrassed to admit it.

“I guess you have kinda grown on me. Which is silly of course, with you being unconscious all the while, but hey. It’s not like I’ve been dealing with a lot of cute conscious guys either. Working here as a psychiatrist kinda absorbs all of your free time.”

I wanted to say something, but my mouth was already half open with bloody astonishment. Did I really hear her say that she cared about me? An - And did she admit that I was cute?

Suddenly, this other reality thing wasn’t looking that gloom anymore.

And then it struck me.

I finally recognized the strange expression on Buffy’s face. It was something I had seen before on her lil’ sis’s face, and she herself had frequently expressed it for the sake of her family, her friends, but never for this lovesick evil vampire, until now.

She was genuinely worried about me.

Which meant she finally cared.

---

ACT 6: The harsh light of day does not keep me restrained in darkness any longer.

SCENE 1

I closed my eyes and opened them again. Then I cocked my head, slowly, turning it towards the artificial light provided by the small bulb dangling above the mirror. I figured that if I looked cross-eyed enough, I could just pick up the outline of my face, but the effort made me dizzy. I shook my head and repositioned myself, gazing up at the strangely familiar young man with messy brown locks and funny cheekbones, who was staring right back at me, a confused look in his fiery blue eyes, a dark brow raised up warily.

“ Is it weird?”

The Slayer’s image appeared behind my reflection. I caught myself studying it intensely, checking if hers was looking as strange as mine. You know, some minor detail that got messed up by the mirror, making her look a tad unreal. A bit fake. But there was none of that. What I saw in the mirror was exactly the same image I would see if I turned around to look at her. Which pretty much meant that I shouldn’t doubt the genuineness of my own reflection either.

“ I can imagine how you feel. Five years is a hell of a long time to lose. “

“ Oh, I think I have lost far more than that.” I laughed bitterly. “To be honest, I can hardly recognise that wanker staring back at me right now. It- It feels like it had been ages. Bloody centuries.”

“Now, that’s just the hallucinating and slightly depressed William talking.” She ran her fingers through the mess of my hair.

I averted my eyes from my image. Couldn’t stand looking at it right now. That wasn’t me. I remembered that Angelus was the first to tell me that we vampires didn’t age. We would stay exactly the same as we did on the day that we were made, forever young or forever old, forever raving mad or maddening sane. Me and Dru got used to dressing up without using a mirror pretty quick, though she tended to make me look like a bloody poof if I let her have her way with my hair. The strangeness of seeing that empty spot in the mirror had also worn off after decades, and we ended up even avoiding places where our reflections, or rather the lack of them, could be noticed, partly b’cause we were not too keen on letting our leggy meals know that we were vamps. But all this time, I had this mental image of myself tucked up safely in my mind, of how I would look like to Dru, to Angelus, and finally, to the Slayer. That image was never the same. It changed and it aged, because I felt that I did. I guess deep in my dead non beating heart I just couldn’t believe that I was still the uncertain looking wuss with the words “ love’s bitch” tattooed on the forehead, who liked to write bloody awful poetry and harassed his object of affection with his presence till she was pushed to flee in full frenetic horror.

Seeing the little wanker again after this long time was sure a bit of a bloody disappointment.

“ I wager this is supposed to be part of my therapy then? Shove the mental- vamp-patient in front of a large mirror, see if he freaks out again when he finds out that he does have a reflection?” I asked, voice sounding unintentionally angry and sarcastic.

“ I just, I thought that you would like to take a look at yourself.” She said, uncertain how to react to my sudden hostility, but soon composing herself. “ And no, this isn’t part of the therapy. We have more sophisticated methods to convince you.”

“Like what?” I turned around, cocky smile on my lips. “ Shock treatment? Forced cold and hot holy water baths? Or a bloody crucifixion, because you know, that kinda works twice as effective for the likes of me. You get the bleeding and the burning, all at the same time.”

I looked at the expression on her face and got even more convinced that whatever daft reality I got myself into, the Buffy that stood in front of me was as real as my new bleedin heartbeat. That grossed out and annoyed look that she gave me was one of a kind.

“ What? Eww, no! Where do you get your weird and totally wrong sense of humour from, by watching Elmstreet before bedtime? I was just talking about plain and normal group therapy here.”

Puzzled and perhaps a bit in fear, not liking the sound of the word “group” in particular, I gazed at her.

“Group therapy? What do you mean by that?”

SCENE 2

It was in a bright, cheery room on the second floor of what I now had become to think as the Professor Rupert’s Institute for heavily screwed wankers. I immediately got the wiggins when I first entered the room and laid my eyes on the walls. Some balmy interior designer had gotten the brilliant idea to paint the soddin room full with cute little Disney animals. Although the whole thing was incredibly badly done, I still could clearly distinguish a wide-eyed Bambi prancing around with his happy mates, with the giant brown ankles wearing stain on the wall left probably Bambi’s dad. Rotten little woodland creatures dancing in a surreal landscape with soft rolling hills, so violently green that it hurt my bleedin eyes.

And then there were also pink and baby blue flowers painted everywhere like soddin sweet canes in an overly decorated Christmas tree.

“You got to be kiddin me.” I said, panting below my breath and starting to feel a bit nauseous again. Suddenly, I got the overwhelming need to leg it before the blond and pushy one came in and introduced me to this new form of medieval torture. I swirled around on my heels, ready to make a run for it, and bumped into a very familiar mount of wrinkles and loose skin.

“Oh, Hello there! You must be William, right?”

I gazed up, baffled, and found myself staring into the face of my kitten poker-cheating chum.

“C-Clem? What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Um, excuse me.” The demon stumbled, as confused as I was. “But, um, have we met before?”

“Well, you seem to bloody well know me! Seriously Clem, what are you here for and why are you calling me William, just like the rest of these hallucinated wankers? I thought we have agreed for you not to appear in my dreams anymore. With all that sexual tension between me and the Slayer flying around, it just doesn’t seem such a good idea for you to hang around in my soddin wet dreams.”

Clem backed up, visibly worried.

“Eh, look pal, I think you’re confusing me with someone else. I just happened to know your name b’cause Doctor Summers told us that there would be a new guy joining the group this morning. I’ve never seen you before in my entire life.”

I blinked my eyes in absolute stupid disbelieve.

“Oh. Right then, should have guessed this right away. Everybody I know has been given bleedin cameo parts in this daft head-trip of mine. So, um, you’re supposed to be what, a fellow nutcase?”

“I’m a patient here, just like you, if that is that is what you’re trying to say. ” He showed me that stupid grin of his, attempting to be friendly. “I’m Glen Murray. Pleased to meet someone new aboard.” He offered me his hand, which I didn’t take. I was just too bloody baffled for the moment.

“Yeah. Actually, it is really good to meet another demon in this human infested hell hole.” I cocked my head and kept staring at Clem, making my old mate seem even more uncomfortable. An encouraging thought struck me there and I started musing out loud. “I mean, if you’re here and as real as a demon can be, then it must mean that I’m still myself too. Hey! I’m not William the whimpering Schizo but Spike the bloody evil vampire!”

“Why are you calling me a demon?” Clem’s floppy go-happy features vanished, which, in turn, wiped the content grin from my face. “I’m not a demon. Just that I-I happened to look like – look like…”

“ Look like what? An overgrown bald albino rabbit with loose skin and very sharp teeth?”

I joked hopefully, but he didn’t take it as well as I expected.

“I don’t look like a b-bald wrinkled rabbit! I’m not a monster, I am a man! Doctor Summers told me so. And I shouldn’t listen to what others have to say about me b’cause they are just shallow, and I surely don’t have to listen to your insecure crap, William!”

With that said, Clem pushed me aside and walked angrily into the room, leaving me standing near the door with an incredulous expression plastered all over my face. Outside, from the corridor, came the noises of a crowd heading our way, with the cheery chirpy voice of the Slayer sounding above them all.

“Ah, you found the place on your own, very good. Now let’s get inside, shall we?”

Before I could as much as utter an excuse to get me out of this nightmare, I was swept up by a colourful company of patients, all looking rather a tad too odd to be humans, and got pushed into a chair by Buffy Nightingale.

When the others finally got their asses planted on their seats, I found myself a reluctant part of a wide circle formed by six patients and one not totally qualified psychiatrist. Everyone was chatting like a bunch of cloaking chickens except for Clem, who was eyeing at me from the other side of the room with an incredibly hurt expression on his face, which I desperately tried to ignore. I started to think that this whole group therapy thing was about as interesting as one of Dru’s fancy tea parties with miss Edith and company when the Slayer, always fancying herself the leader, stood up and clapped her hands.

“OK guys, we gonna start now. Today I would like to introduce someone new into the group. William?”

I glared up at her sullenly.

“Can you stand up, let the guys here take a good look at you?”

“Do I have to?”

The Slayer’s features twisted from cheery and friendly to demandingly pushy within a sec.

“Yes, you have to. Now be nice and get your ass of that chair.”

“Fine, if I must.” I sighed.

I jumped out of my chair, stretched my arms above my head and swirled around in front of my audience a couple of times. Then I turned back to her.

“So here I am, prancing around demeaningly like a cheap piece of meat for everybody here to go googly eyes on. Are you satisfied now?”

“William, shut up. And yes, it does make me feel all powerful and good about myself. Now, everybody, this is mister William Byron. He will be joining us with the group sessions, starting from today. William, these are you fellow group members. This is Marc Noxon.”

A slim built demon with pale blue skin and curved horns growing out of his head gave me a friendly pleased-to-meet-you cheer.

“Steward Burns.”

A red skinned demon covered in scales waved me hello.

“James Contner”

Shabby looking Fearall demon came up to me and shook my hand enthusiastically.

“Glen Murray.”

Clem just gave me a slight nod to affirm his hostile attitude towards me.

“And this is David Salomon.”

600 pound Chirago demon wearing a dress and a purple wig raised his hand and waved like a nonche at me, then accompanied the gesture by an overfriendly grin and fluttering eyelashes.

“Guys, William has been away for quite a long while and is not used to having so many people around. So be gentle with him, okay? Don’t ask too many questions or push him too much on this first session.”

“You can count on us for that, Doctor Summers.” The poof of a Chirago demon answered and turned toward me. “You can relax, William. We all went through this awkward phase when we were taking our first hesitating steps towards full recovery. I’m sure the guys here are as keen to help and support you as I am.”

I swallowed a hard lump that got stuck in my throat and just kept gazing at this talking wig wearing nightmare, ready to start screaming for all that my sanity was still worth in this crackers reality.

“ Yes, that’s very thoughtful of you Dave. I think William will appreciate this.” She eyed at me warily as she probably observed the gob-smacked phase that I was in.

I almost jumped right out of my chair as the ugly tosser grabbed my hand and gave it a little comforting squeeze.

“You have such a brave spirit, my dear boy! Doctor Summers have told us all about you before your official introduction, and I must say that I have nothing but the deepest respect for you. Such a terrible car accident! And you slipping into a coma, only to wake up in that awful catatonic state… Seriously, I have friends at section 12 that never snapped out of that one, I tell you. They have been sitting in the same corner of their rooms over decades gathering mould and dust! But you. You found a way to fight it and now you ‘re back again!”

He leaned forward, his huge, beefy arms opened wide, ready to grab me and hug me to death.

“Everybody! Give a loud cheer for William here! The darling boy deserves it!”

I got ambushed by the cheap Pricilla Queen of the desert imitation and found out that breathing with my face buried in a demon’s wobbly bosom was hardly if not completely not possible. Trying to push away the large mount of soft, all engulfing flesh and failing miserably, I let out an anxious cry for help, which got muffled in the big heap till it wasn’t more than a soft whimper.

Bloody hell.

Outside of my dark and dank prison, a loud crazy cheer burst out in the room, and somewhere on my left, I could clearly hear the Slayer starting to panic.

“Em, okay Dave. I think maybe William would like to breathe now.”

The arms that locked me into my highly deadly position lifted and I backed away from the charming chap, inhaling much-needed oxygen hysterically.

“Oh my.” The purple wig bloke squealed. “Sorry, William, sometimes I do underestimate my strength.”

“What is all this?” I asked while trying to breathe at the same time. “Why - Why are all these demons here?”

Buffy looked at me as if I had suddenly grown an extra head or something.

“What are you talking about, William, what demons?”

“What demons?!” I couldn’t believe my freakin ears. “These demons!” And I waved my hand around, pointing at all of them sitting there, nice and comfy in their chairs. “Why are they all here?”

“William. You’re confused. Again. These people do look special, but they are not…”

I straightened my back and inhaled deep. Enough of this freakin puppet show already.

“Look, you can’t fool me. Ever since I woke up in this soddin reality you’ve been telling me that I wasn’t real. That there are no such things as vampires and demons and that I was rather comical for making them all up in my head and believing that I was actually one. But, bloody hell, I mean, look at them! How can you expect me to swallow all of your psychological mumbo jumbo if these guys are also around?”

Now they were all looking at me as if I had lost my mind. Buffy attempted to compose herself, and then tried to calm me down at bit.

“Listen William. There is no one here who’s a demon or vampire or whatever. And I do realise that perhaps you’re still suffering from terrible delusions, but you can’t just call everybody a monster because they happen to look different. We are all human beings here, and that’s how these people like to be addressed. Like normal human beings.”

“Oh really?!” I hissed mockingly and jumped out of my chair like a winded toy. “Are you daft Summers? These are not humans! They’re monsters! I mean, take a look at Marc here, ever seen a man growing horns out of his bloody head or having a bad case of very blue skin? And Dave, did you even notice that he was a Chirago demon underneath that ridiculous wig? You were supposed to slay demons like these in order to be righteous, remember? You used to kick their asses, break their limps and massacre them!”

I paused for a moment to gasp in some air, gazing angrily around the room, which had suddenly become very quiet.

“I don’t know what is wrong with you pal! But it’s really mean of you to say that!”

I froze instantly as I recognized Clem’s voice.

“Isn’t it enough that people from outside are making fun of us, calling us freaks and monsters all the time? Now you have to toddle in with your perfectly wrinkleless body and fleshy skin tan and start bullying us around too! Do you even realize how deep those ugly words of yours hurt people like us, do you?”

I blinked stupidly, was certainly not expecting this coming.

“Honestly William, that was very inconsiderate of you! And I thought that you were such a nice young man, turns out that you’re just as ignorant as all the others.” Dave squeaked.

“Doctor Summers should get righteous on your sorry ass!” Yelled the Fearall demon.

“Hey! Don’t get pissed on me b’cause I happen to speak the truth here! You blokes are demons! Look at yourself, you daft morons, none of you can even pass for simian, let alone human!”

The faint murmuring of voices became the loud screaming of an angry mob. I backed up cautiously, I’ve seen these little misunderstandings escalate into heart staking and pitchfork rising type of anger pretty quickly in the past, and my instincts told me that hanging around near such companies was never beneficial for a vamp’s health.

“Guys! Don’t do this! Calm down!” The Slayer yelled.

“That does it! I’m not taking anymore of that bullshit coming out of you, sonny! I’ve been dealing with scum like you my whole life, and I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if I let you get away with this!” Hissing like a stepped on an adder, that scaly Steward bloke headed my way, probably ready to break some bones of mine.

“OK guys! Enough is enough indeed. Sit back down right away. All of you!” The Slayer pushed herself through the cuckoos’ crowd and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me out of the room in a hurry.

“Yeah, listen to the nice doctor here and start acting like good mental patients!” I yelled mockingly over my shoulders. “If you don’t want to be demons then at least try to qualify for professional basket cases.”

“Shut up you!” We were standing in the deserted corridor as she slammed my back against the wall while banging the door shut behind her. Flaring anger was blazing in her steel blue eyes.

I smirked at her.

“That’s how I like to see you luv! All violently mad and thirsty for demon blood. The very Slayer I fell for.”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, but frankly, I pity you if you’re that delusional to think that me being angry at you is a good thing.”

“Oh, I’m not happy.” And my smirk became a huge grin, accompanied by some mad giggling. “I’m absolutely thrilled! And there I thought I’ve to miss our little midnight dancing lessons with me being stuck here without the Slayer. Turns out Buffy Nightingale is up to the job, and as good as the real thing.”

“Stop referring to those crazy fantasies of yours! You’re not a vampire! You’re just a rude and obnoxious bastard, and you’ve insulted a lot of people in there who normally wouldn’t even hurt a fly, but are now about to thrash you real bad for your stupid ranting. Do you even understand how serious this is?”

“Yeah, well, let them get on with it.” I snorted. “Would love a good brawl, could break a couple of bones right now myself.”

“Why don’t you listen?!”

The Slayer grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed my head back.

“This isn’t a joke, William, OK? They are really angry with you right now. Walk back in there, and they will put you back in your favourite dream world before you can even say the word ough.” She pushed some dangling locks behind her ear agitatedly. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? The guys were only trying to be friendly. Letting you feel more comfortable as the new guy in the group. There was really no need to go totally mean and crazy on them.”

“Look, I was just trying to point out the deadly simple facts here that they are bloody de-“

She pushed her hand against my gob.

“I don’t want to hear that word coming out of your mouth! They’re not demons. They are humans. Just a bunch of plain old ordinary guys who have been judged on their appearances too many times. Do you have any idea how long it has taken me to get their shattered self-esteem built up from scratch again? How can you be so…so inconsiderate of anyone else’s feelings? Don’t you have a heart?”

I muttered something in her palm, and she released her grip on me.

“Do have a heart here babe, just don’t seem to have a soul, though.”

I stared at her, expecting more anger coming, perhaps even a sign of disgust for my honesty to admit this to her. She never had been one to be able to embrace the ugly naked truth.

But instead, she traced my cheeks with her soft fingers and looked at me with the deepest pity in her eyes that I have ever received from another human or demon in my entire existence.

“You have a soul, William. I’m sure you have. Don’t talk about yourself like this.”

“How would you know?” I asked hesitatingly.

“Because you’re a man. Not a monster.”

My anger slipped away, leaving me empty, like a drained vessel. She kept staring back at me with that angelic face of hers filled with misplaced compassion, and my defence broke down completely.

Averting my eyes, I whispered my answer to her.

“You know, I wish you would have told me this before.”

SCENE 3

"Get your hands up Will, you know the procedure."

"Yeah, I know the procedure all right. Just don't try to stick your hand all the way up to my ass this time. I can't see the use in it, can hardly hide any pointy objects in there, can I?"

I smirked at the orderly, who was calling me a smart ass beneath his breath and kept feeling my legs and chest while I was standing spread-eagled with my hands against the wall. Paranoid much?

"He's clear." He yelled. An annoying buzz followed, after which the barred doors in front of me flew wide open and I got shoved inside the next corridor.

"Better step on it Will, your brother had been waiting for you ever since you came back from group therapy."

"And I thought that bad things never happened at once." I said sarcastically. "An angry mob and that poof Angel on the same bleedin morning, what are the odds of that happening to me?"

Mike led me through yet another door situated at the very end of the long hallway. This one was not as high tech as the first and needed to be opened in the old fashioned way, which meant that my mate Mike had to scrabble with his heavy ring of keys for a minute or two before he could unlock it. We entered a small room with a barred window and green tiled walls. In the middle of room stood a table and two crooked chairs. And oh, my grand poof Sire was standing there as well, looking as broody as ever.

"Here he is sir. You have a half an hour. If you need anything or if he starts causing any trouble, I'll be waiting at the other side of that door. Just give me a yell."

"Thanks Mike, but I don't think it will be necessary." Angel gazed up to the beefy Mikster for a sec, waited till the bloke had left the room, then continued to brood at me in silence. Eyes on the million miles mode, brows all furrowed. The "I am permanently worrying about my existence but I can't do a soddin thing about it" look that was gloomy enough to drive a happy vamp into joining a sun worshipping cult, let alone a less cheerful demon like yours truly here at the very present moment.

"So, I suppose this is a weekly thing then." I opted, trying to get over the first gauche moments to make him stop depressing me with his soddin brooding. "Tell me, are you always gonna come on Fridays from now on? B'cause if you are, I'm definitely going to hassle Rupert to let me reschedule that group therapy thing. Friday is starting to feel rather too action-packed with all this mental torturing going on in one single day."

Angel's face changed from troubled into guilt-ridden, which was absolutely peachy by me. Guilt was fine; as long as the poof didn't feel sorry for me being locked up in here and start to drown me in his endearing looks of sympathy, I was really ever so grateful.

"I had planned to come and see you every Friday. I wanted to visit on weekends too, but Doctor Giles told me that perhaps that was still a bit too early for you."

"Oh, bloody hell, the Watcher's definitely right. I need much, much more time. So if you're so kind to stay away from me for, let's say, the next twenty, thirty years, I think I will be a much happier mental patient. "

Now the poofter looked hurt, and once again, it did me good.

"Will, maybe you don't remember anything anymore, but I still do. I don't understand why you're acting this hostile towards me and why you think that you should hate me this much, but you are still my little brother. I want to take care of you. I can't just stop caring about you because you've suddenly fantasised in one of your less lucid states that I'm your absolute arch nemesis. Can't you at least try to accept me?"

Angel treated me on his sad-puppy look that got the Slayer into sending his precious soul directly back to hell in happier times. Didn't work on me though, and I wondered if Buffy ever noticed how much my grand sire's features resembled that of a daft broad-mouthed cartoon dog.

"Look, An- Liam. I'm sorry for being this blunt, but all I can remember, and dear doctor Summers is probably going to sent me to another balmy group session for this, is you being my grand Sire Angelus. You were the one who used to call me a whimpering wuss. You used to beat me unconscious with a large stick, tie me to a pole and fuck me from behind till I was bleedin my whole last meal out of my soddin arse. Excuse me for holding a bit of a grudge here, but my memories of you aren't exactly the stuff that daydreams are made of, unless you're really into bondage, of course. "

I parked myself in one of the chairs and raised my feet, putting them on the table. Leaning back and balancing on the hind legs, I waited for time to crawl by so I could finally get out of this soddin mess. If the poofter wanted a story about why his poor delusional sibling was wishing him dead, I certainly could provide him one. Just don't bloody expect me to feel any sympathy for this furball version of the Angel I know. Things with my grand Sire had already gone past the be-able-to-be-forgiving state centuries ago.

Angel remained silent and frozen on the spot for so long that I started to wonder if he had passed out unnoticed with the broad stick up his ass still supporting his frame so he wasn't tumbling over. Eager to elope the much dreaded half an hour with the fully conscious poof, I kept myself quiet, hardly daring to clear my throat out of fear of making him snap out of his rather convenient shock. However, after a couple of minutes Angel started to blink his eyes, and my hopes to escape this very daft confrontation went down the drain.

"Will, I've never done this to you. These delusions that you have, these disturbing things you describe, they are not real. I could never, * never * hurt you."

Angel paced around the small room like a caged animal, brooding engine turned on its maximum capacity, while guilt, sorrow, anxiety, and the whole soddin rainbow of depressing moods was showcased in this one very miserable man.

Very good, I thought.

"I don't understand how you can make all these ugly things up. I've always been a good brother to you, Will. Always. When dad died, I was there to comfort you, to take care of you. We were best pals, you and I. We used to go on deep sea fishing trips or camping in the woods together, remember? Just before .before all the bad stuff happened. You came to visit me in LA almost every weekend. When we were kids, we shared everything, even the same bicycle, but I always let you ride it first, even if it was my turn."

"And I'm sure that your sacrifices have truly shaped me into the man I'm today. It's just a bloody shame that I can really remember bugger of those heart warming, merry times." I mocked.

Poofter stopped dead in his tracks, eying at me.

" I guess that what I mean to say is that. I loved you, Will. And I still do. God, why can't you see that?"

He smashed his fists on the table, angry and frustrated. His eyes were tying to find any emotional sign of recollection in my cold and ignorant stare.

"Can't you remember anything about me that is real?"

I gazed up at him and slowly I shook my head.

"Listen to me, mate, if there was a way in this whole bleedin world that could make me forget about all that nasty stuff that you've ever done to me, I would be more then happy to oblige, even when it means that my testicles have to be smashed once or twice or that my brains have to be partly eaten away. But sadly, there isn't really a way to go amnesia on this one on a permanent level. I just have to settle with pissing you off and making a fool out of you whenever I have the chance to help me deal with the damage you've done, thank you very much."

I was starting to tire from this jabbering, must have gone completely daft indeed to even try to explain to this crackers version of the poof why I hated his guts. What was the bleedin point? The bloke wouldn't get it since he was bloody innocent of all of the ugly stuff I was blaming him for. The only thing that I would probably achieve with this was him getting even more winded up about it and having him around for another couple of hours, trying to convince me that he was just a fluffy little kitten and not the throat ripping tiger that Angelus was.

"Will, please stop. Stop telling all these terrible lies. Perhaps Doctor Giles was right. I shouldn't have come here."

He collapsed on the chair, both his hands entwined in his pointy hair.

"I really don't know what to do anymore. I had hopes that at least you would still trust me. Remember a tiny bit about me. But you don't. Not a thing."

"Look, I'm just telling the stuff that I do remember. Don't get your knickers all twisted. I guess to you these recollections are indeed complete baloney. You've got nothing to do with any of it. Fair enough."

"You're sick Will. You're very, *very* sick."

"What, for making these saucy references to dubious sex or calling you my grand Sire Angelus?"

Angel had been hiding his face between his arms, bending all over the table. Now he tilted his head a bit and gazed at me with his dark brows raised.

"No, I mean that you are seriously ill. I think you are going to need a lot of help to get you back on your feet again. You'll have to stay here for a while. If only there was another possible way."

I sighed and suddenly got the very urgent need to impale myself in front of the poof, only to get rid of the tosser. What's with the soddin pity already? Did I explicitly beg him for it or something?

"You have to believe me Will. If I could be in here instead of you, having you back healthy and happy again, I would take your place without doubting my choice for a second. But I need you to be strong now, and at least try to forget all these nightmares you've been living in for the past five years, and move on. Fight back. I know you can do it."

He grabbed me gently by the shoulders and gave a little squeeze.

"You have to fight back. Please Will, if you don't want to do it for me, then for God's sake, do it for yourself."

I gazed sullenly at him, for once not having an edgy remark or a cunningly crafted insult ready to throw right back at his face. Angel, or rather Liam, was at the brink of an emotional breakdown, all teary eyes and puffy red nose. I could have cared less, I wager, but somehow it seemed too low even for this evil soulless vampire to bash this broken man in front of me with the final blow.

"Hey, don't worry, peaches." I hesitatingly opted. "Fighting is in my blood."

A very faint smile appeared on Liam's face, reflecting a trace of hope.

"I guess it is. You've always been a fighter. I, however, am very much at the end of my dexterity here. Honest Will, I don't know what I'll do if I lose you again. I think the guilt will eventually drive me mad."

He folded his hands over his face, then held them in front of his lips as if he was a sinner in prayer. His eyes were averted from me.

"You don't know how it was for me these past five years. I blamed myself for everything; the bad memories, the fight, the car, even the damn slippery road. I thought that, if I could have stopped you from walking out of my apartment that day, or kept you there an hour longer, so the bad weather would have passed LA, then none of this would have ever happened."

Liam's voice sounded old and worn, reminding me of that night that Angelus came back to our little family after the absence of a decade. Only he hadn't been Angelus any longer, but Angel, cursed with a soul.

"But then, I guess I'm still trying to wash my dirty hands clean of everything if I'm trying to convince you that none of it was really my fault. B- B'cause it w-was, in a way. I shouldn't have let those ugly things happen to you Will. But I was scared. I didn't have the guts to stop any of it. I'm sorry."

Not understanding exactly what he was talking about, I figured he was still referring to his outsized guilt complex for letting me drive myself into a car accident. If the AU version of me was as much as a roadhawk as I was, I certainly could picture myself lying broken and bleedin at the side of the road with my head protruding through the front window.

Once again, could hardly blame furball here for me trying to commit suicide in very artful way.

"I'm so sorry Will. I really am."

The nonce was inconsolable, which was really sad, even for the poof's ways of nauseating behaviour.

"There, there." I sussed, and patted him awkwardly on his shoulders. "Don't cry now, you big fella, there is no reason to give me another opportunity to treasure this embarrassing moment of yours and hold it against you in the very near future. Believe me, I don't need more comical material to make you look like an idiot."

"You don't understand.I - I have let -"

"Whatever you've done or not, it can hardly be worse then the stuff your alter ego has come up with when I was stuck in that soddin wheelchair. Unless you've whacked on my broken legs with a spiked club before. If that's the case, please do remind me so, and I'm going to bash Mike on the head for his blunt keys to remove your testicles with in a very painful kind of way. "

Liam lifted his head, gazing into my eyes, and I gave him a wavering smile.

"But since you keep telling me we are brothers, I guess I should trust you on that one."

"Will, I would never hurt you. Trust me."

That was exactly what I was afraid of. The bloody wanker wasn't going to leave me any space left in my dead unfeeling heart to hate him. At least not this present mortified version of him, that was.

We stayed in the soddin room like that for what seemed soddin hours, till Mike got his ass back in and told the whimpering poof that I should be going. I've never felt so relieved in my entire existence, whether I was dead or alive. Just when I was going to escape through the door, Liam called me back for a sec.

"Will, I know that you don't want to see me for some time, and I'm willing to wait till you've settled back into life, but I would really like to visit you again once in a while. Just to see how you're doing."

I stared at my alleged elder brother for a moment without saying anything.

"It doesn't have to be a whole half an hour if that's what bothering you. I can keep my visits shorter and less frequent, like let's say, fifteen minutes once in a month. I could even pop in the recreation room for a moment and go again if you're more comfor-"

"Next Friday is fine." I couldn't soddin believe what I was saying, but it seemed that my brains had left the sinking ship for good. "Just don't be as gloomy as this week; I'm already on heavy medication, more Prozac will probably finish me off."

As I was finally able to leave, I caught a glimpse of a hopeful smile on the poofter's face that was warm enough to melt all the ice on the whole bleedin North Pole.

 

SCENE 4

"How is patient 17 doing?" The middle aged woman, dressed in a doctor's outfit and wearing a long white coat, sat cross-legged at the other side of his work desk, sipping her tea while flipping through William Byron's files. Giles glanced up from his papers, and gazed at his colleague, confused.

"I beg your pardon? I was somewhat distracted."

"Patient 17, he is still under your care, isn't he?"

Dr Walsh waited impatiently for Giles to reply, but as she observed that there was no change in the psychiatrist's puzzled expression, she sighed and clarified herself.

"Patient 17, otherwise known as mister Byron. Age 28, medical history indicating that he suffered from catatonia after waking up from a coma caused by a car accident in 1997. Currently under treatment for a severe form of an undifferentiated type of Schizophrenia. Do I need to provide you with more information Dr Giles, or do you finally recognize your patient?"

"Yes, of course, I do recognize this information as one of my patients' profiles. I was just not used to having them referred to as faceless numbers." Giles reacted agitatedly.

"It's the new institute policy. That way, we won't have to worry about the patients knowing that we're referring to them in corridor conversations. It is a good measure to keep order and peace over the departments. Although the staff will have to be persistent in their actions, of course, otherwise there is no use in any of it."

"Hmm, if I do remember one thing of last week's staffmeeting, it is that this numbering strategy is not mandatory. We can choose as a department whether to adapt this new policy or not, and I for one think it is rather demeaning for the patients. They are guests trying to recover from illness, Dr Walsh, not criminals in confinement."

"Very well, then." Walsh re-crossed her legs, irritated. "Then I will rephrase my question to suit your policy, how is the Byron patient doing?"

"He's doing fine." Giles stared at the woman for whom he felt nothing but ever growing contempt, shooting her what he hoped what was a very confident look. "William has suffered a lot over these past five years, but things are finally starting to look up for him. I've appointed my student Buffy Summers to look after him. She's currently trying to ground William more in reality by introducing him to group sessions with other Schizophrenic patients."

"Group sessions?" The female psychiatrist shifted in her seat and gazed at Giles with a sceptical look on her face. "Do you really think he's ready for that?"

"Although his behaviour is still slightly peculiar, it is really decent enough to have him out of solitary confinement and let him interact more with other people. Buffy and I do believe that by stimulating his social skills, we're helping him forward in the process of full recovery."

"But aren't you worried that he might suffer a relapse? For all the information that this file here contains, I can only conclude that the patient is still highly unstable. He might seem harmless and meek as a lamb, but there is something seriously wrong with his thinking patterns. If these results are right, he can turn extremely violent in a blink of an eye, when triggered. "

"I've read that evaluation report as well, Dr Walsh, but I can assure you that nothing will happen. As I said, William is a peculiar young man, he suffers from certain delusions of being this great evil vampire with no conscience, and he tries to sustain that image by talking and reacting in overly machoistic ways, visibly compensating for his insecurities. There is absolutely no harm in his kind of behaviour, or any drive to do harm to others."

"I still think you should be careful, you have the tendency to rely on your heart when it comes to making important decisions for your patients, and that's something only bad physicians allow themselves to indulge into. I don't trust my heart, Dr Giles. I trust science. If scientific tests had indicated that one of my patients is potentially dangerous to others and to himself, I'm the one who has to make sure that there are serious measures taken to prevent things from going terribly wrong. And although patient 17 is not under my direct care, I do urge you to reconsider your slack policy towards him."

Giles had taken off his glasses and was wiping them clean using his handkerchief, remaining completely silent, although he was growing quite angry of the bitchy doctor's unscrupulous comments. How on earth was this cold and obnoxious woman ever allowed into this humane profession, was still a great mystery to him. They really should screen more carefully before allowing someone like her become a practicing psychiatrist, if not for the sake of her colleagues, then certainly for the sake of the poor patients.

" I'm convinced that he's absolutely not ready to be let out of solitary confinement, and I doubt your mild therapies will have even the slightest effect on him. Perhaps you should schedule him for ETC if his delusional state persists."

Giles coughed in his fist several times. "Cough *Evil* cough *Fishwife.* cough."

Walsh gazed at Giles suspiciously, then opted. "Gesundheit."

"Heh, thanks. Must be the dry weather, I'm a bit allergic to drifting pollen, you see."

"I'm sure that can be very unpleasant, indeed."

"Dr Walsh, your concern about William Byron is, um, quite understandable, but really, there is absolutely no need to make things even harder for him by taking these drastic actions you described, he's adapting perfectly well to our group sess-"

"Giles! I want William out of my therapy group, now!"

Buffy stormed into the room, cheeks flushed with irritation, failing to notice the presence of Dr Walsh completely.

Giles looked horrified.

"Buffy, can you talk to me about this later, I'm in the middle of -"

"I've never had a patient that was this boneheaded! This is the second time that he messes up the morning session. I'm telling you Giles, he only comes to annoy me and to challenge the others to get mad at him and start a fight. I mean, can you even believe this? He is actually trying hard to get his ass severely kicked. If it weren't for me to stop the other guys, he would have been turned into William the Bloody by now. Literally, that is."

"Buffy!"

She stopped her ranting for a moment, and gazed at her mentor, brows furrowed.

"What?"

Giles coughed and cleared his throat, dead worried.

"Dr Walsh is here."

 

SCENE 5

"Dr Walsh is here."

"Huh?"

Buffy turned around and noticed a bit too late that the strict doctor was sitting at the other side of Giles' desk, and was currently following her annoyed rambling with quite some interest.

"I don't mind her interruption. Buffy, why don't you sit down and join us? We were just discussing one of your patients. Perhaps you can provide us with your insight opinion."

"Oh no, she couldn't possibly. Um, Buffy would you mind to let me speak to Dr Walsh here in private before we discuss your matters in more detail?"

Giles deadly serious expression was enough to hint his pupil that it had been once again a very bad time to speak up her mind. Mentally slapping herself for her slip of the tongue, Buffy immediately recomposed her attitude. Besides, she knew Dr Walsh's reputation too well to feel comfortable to bash her tricky patient in her presence anyway.

"Oh sure. I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were in the middle of something important. I come back later."

"Close the door behind on your way out, will you?" Her mentor added.

"OK. You guys continue."

She swiftly headed back to the door and had already her hand on the door handle when her elder colleague decided that she wasn't going to let her slip out of the room that easily.

"Are you having problems dealing with patient 17, Buffy?"

Just ignore her, pretend that you didn't hear the question, she thought and pulled the door open a bit too fast and a bit too eagerly.

"Buffy, I was speaking to you. At least be polite enough to answer or I would find your behavior very suspicious indeed."

She hoped that it was not visible, but she flinched as she was called back to clarify herself.

"Ops, sorry. Tend to go really deaf once in a while. It's probably the loud music that they are playing at the Bronze. Giles did warn me that standing too near those damn giant boxes are a sure way to ruin your eardrums."

"I was asking you if patient 17 was causing you any trouble."

Buffy looked confused.

"Who is causing me trouble again?"

"Patient seven- I mean mister Byron. Or William, as you both so carelessly prefer to call him. How is he reacting to your therapy sessions?"

"Oh you mean Will, why are you calling him." She shot one look back at the elder woman and decided not to go in on this one. "Um, He's doing just fine! Very nice guy, if you get to know him really. And the other guys just love him too. He's so." She paused, looking for a word to describe this total dysfunctional individual that wouldn't sound too far off from the truth. "Interactive with his surroundings, particularly when he wants something from you. But interactive in a good way of course, not in a mentally sick, constantly crying out for attention kind of way."

Silently, Dr Walsh kept staring at her.

"Oh yes, he's absolutely adapting incredibly well." She added, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

"Are you saying that he has no tendency to violence and he's not rebelling against your authority?"

"No! Not at all!" She had a very bad feeling about where this conversation Spanish inquisition style was going to lead into and she was trying her best to revert it for Will's sake. "Honest, he's no trouble at all. Meek as a lamb."

"Really? So why did you seem so upset with him?"

"I was?"

"As my short term memory allows me to recall, you were practically referring to him as the Big Antichrist when you rushed in to speak to Dr Giles."

"Oh, I was just jabbering nonsense." Buffy smiled nervously. "I though I give Giles a really good scare. He was acting all busy and important this morning, didn't have the time to speak to me so I became a little bit annoyed, that's all. It had nothing to do with William, really. "

Walsh kept her chilly eyes on the blond girl, then handed her the thick pile of stapled together paper that she had been reading. Buffy took it, not quite knowing what to think of this.

"Did you read this report on his psychological evaluation?"

"No, I didn't. He did the tests last Wednesday, I didn't expect the results coming back this soon. Normally, it takes a week or two."

"That's because the department thought Mister Byron's case was serious enough to pay attention to as soon as possible."

Buffy's anxiety just tripled in response to Walsh explanation.

"What do you mean? Is it really that bad?"

"There are clear indications that Mister Byron is suffering from a very serious form of his disease. He has disturbed thinking patterns and an extremely violent mind. The man we're dealing with here is absolutely a potential threat to the other patients."

"Now, let us not jump into conclusions. These test are a reflection of his state of mind on one particular time point. We should take his daily behaviour in real life into account as well before rushing into decisions." Giles tried.

"I do agree with you on that. That's exactly why the opinion of Dr Summers is so very important here."

She gave Buffy an impatient look, making the poor girl feel as if she was drifting in the open sea on a crappy-self made craft and was circled by a hungry shark.

"Tell me, Buffy. Considering Mister Byron's evaluation, shouldn't we bear in mind the possibility that there may be a need for a more stringent approach then simple group therapy?"

There was no doubt in Buffy's right mind that Dr Walsh was after William. The officious woman was always trying to force her will through the policies of the institute, acting as if she owned the whole place. She had a notorious reputation for her way of running her own wards, governing over her patients like a monarch, not tending them. The doctor was a firm believer in the therapeutic benefits of using cruel and savage methods when dealing with patients which she considered to be hopeless or dangerous, and there were rumours in the corridors that her way of practice was often crossing the limit of what was approved by the board. Still, she was quite influential and well respected by the higher ranking officials in charge, and most of the staff would rather give in to her sometimes impossible demands then to rise up against her. But Buffy Summers was not like the other members of the staff. Breathing in deeply, she managed to compose herself and stop her heart from fluttering in her chest. She had brought William in danger with her terrible sense of timing and she was the only one who could save him now from this dangerous woman's clutches.

"Look, I don't know what the results in this report are indicating, but I do speak the truth here when saying this. William is not dangerous. He may be impulsive and incredibly annoying most of the time, but he won't hurt anybody. He's just all tough talk, nothing more."

"How can you be so sure?" Walsh stated coldly.

"Because - because he's good guy. I believe that he has enough common sense left in him to judge right from wrong. I trust him."

Walsh fell silent, not pleased with the outcome of her inquiry.

"So there won't be any transfers to your department or scheduling for ETCs. I know that you're trying to take William out of our care. Just get that idea out of your head. It won't happen. I won't let you."

"Neither will I."

Giles, moved by the firm stand his student had taken in order to protect their patient, had finally ceased cleaning his glasses and was taking action.

"If Buffy is certain about him then so am I. William is well taken care for in her hands."

He rewarded her bravery with a nod and a supportive smile, and Buffy could feel the uncertainty that had clasped her heart melt away immediately.

"This is outrageous. You're endangering the whole institute with your recklessness."

"No we aren't." Buffy replied, bolder now. "We're helping a patient that we trust to recover. That's all."

"He won't function properly. This is bound to head for a disaster. One for which I will certainly hold you two responsible for."

"Oh yes, undoubtedly you will." Giles remarked. "But please do remind me to make you take back every word you've said when we do succeed. I kind of look forward to prove you wrong and rub it in tactlessly on the day that William Byron is proclaimed healthy and is dismissed from this institute."

The elder woman's face was showing her disgust visibly, the corners of her thinning lips crocked and her cold green eyes stared at the pupil and the mentor full of contempt. Silently, she rose out of her seat. Just before she stepped out of the room, she turned around to have her final say in this situation.

"I don't think you'll have the opportunity to do so Dr Giles. As time will prove, you're once again horribly wrong in your judgements. But if it's your decision to let this madman roam free in the wards of your department, so shall it be. I won't stop you. Just remember that I've warned you about patient 17 when you both crash and burn."

SCENE 6

"Come on mates, don't look that gloom."

Sitting on the floor of the recreation room, I got myself a nice game of poker going on. I gazed up at the daft wankers, smiling arrogantly, while I wiped the entire floor clean, stuffing the coins, candy bars and crumbled fags into my pockets. Did I ever encounter a more susceptible crowd to fall victim to my brilliant schemes?

"Get out your stakes and I give you another crack at it. Win some of you boys' lunch money back."

Steward, who should be a fire breathing inferno demon in reality but was just a bloke with very bad breath in this wacky dimension gave me a real dirty look.

"We're not your mates, * mate*. And I quit playing with you. You've won about everything I got."

"Not much of a loser, are you?" I smirked. "Well then, anybody else who's chickening out and want to call it off?"

My mate Clem - I'm sorry, I mean the assumed perfectly human "Glen" - and the Fearall demon strangely given the nancy name James shook their heads and tossed their cards on the floor in an act of absolute surrender.

"You're really incredible William." James kept shaking his head in disbelief. "Winning seven times in a row? How can any guy beat that amount of luck?"

"It's not only a matter of luck, mate. It's a matter of technique as well." I placed a fresh fag between my lips and searched my shabby outfit for the box of matches that I had nicked a day before. Finally, after almost two weeks being put on dry, I was getting another shot at the third love of my life. The Slayer being the first and Drusilla and the liquor bottle ranking a close second. "You gotta keep yourself focussed when playing, use your wits. Not like corpse breath here who just keeps tossing his cards out like a crackers sloth machine vomiting coins."

"Hey, watch it bleach boy. Don't start ticking me off."

I lit my cigarette and took a long drag, acting unimpressed.

"Stew, don't do this. You remember what Dr Summers has told us to ignore comments like these coming from him? Patient suffering of serious insecurity issues here!?" Glen tried.

I almost choked on my fag.

" *Cough* What!!?"

"I don't give a damn about how fucked up he is! I'm not gonna let him turn me into his butt monkey just because that Summers woman tells me to swallow all of his crap."

"What did she say I had?!!'" I blurted, ignoring the inferno demon's pissed off reactions.

"Well, she told us that you were having problems with accepting who you are. That you were feeling really insecure about yourself and therefore, was trying to compensate for it by making us feel bad." James explained.

"It was a good thing she explained it all, otherwise it's kinda hard to ignore the nasty stuff you've said to us. But after Dr Summers' clarification it's almost impossible to be angry at you." Glen added, worsening my dread. "I mean, it was so inconsiderate of us to judge you on your behaviour, while all the time you were just scared and lonely, desperately trying to reach out to us."

I felt sick to my stomach. There was that bloody sense of misplaced sympathy again. Why on earth did they all feel sorry for me? Had everybody become suddenly immune to my obnoxiousness?

Do I really need to try even harder to get them react normally toward me?

"Hey Stew, chum of mine. I thought you are going to throw a tantrum when I don't shut my gob about how disgusting and repulsively smelly you are. What's with the waiting?"

The inferno demon eyes flared wide open and were shooting daggers. He leaped up like a foaming dog with Rabbis and grabbed me by my throat. Glen tried to hold him back but failed, resulting into the tosser knocking me over. As I struggled back on my feet, the extra cards fell out of the hidden compartments that I had sewn into my sleeves, landing right in front of the noses of my daft poker mates.

"What the-? You were cheating?!!" James exclaimed.

"Yeah, of course I was." I said mockingly, hoping to get their clocks ticking again. " You didn't seriously think that I could win that often without a bit of help, did you?"

Steward growled at me, his voice sounding much demon-like already.

"On second thought, yeah, you lot are probably daft enough to buy that. I mean you did believe that crap about having a standard of 5 aces in a pack of cards."

That did the trick. Good ol' Stew threw himself at me and before I could even rejoice the moment and feel the much craved rush of adrenaline pump again in my veins, the brute wanker had me fixed to the ground and sat on top of me, whacking me like there was no tomorrow and turning my face into a bloody mess.

This time, Glen didn't even attempt to interfere with me being trashed.

That should have been a big relief and a soothing bandage on the wounded self-esteem of this evil bad-ass vampire if it wasn't for the fact that I got knocked out almost immediately.

 

SCENE 7

"What are you trying to prove here?"

She eyed at me, annoyed as usual, dapping the swellings on my cheeks with a cold wet cloth while she tried to stop the continues stream of blood that tickled down the corner of my mouth, much to the courtesy of the cut lip that Steward had given me.

I was sitting in bed, not tied up for a change, and was having a major headache after having my features redone by a pissed off inferno demon. The good thing was that Buffy Nightingale had once again come to patch me up. Unfortunately, she was as unpleasantly talkative as ever.

"I didn't want to prove anything. Just got carried away by that wanker. No big deal."

"If you're trying to get yourself killed, do this when you're out of here and I'm no longer responsible for your stupidities, will you?"

I grinned because I could hear her concern through the vibe of her anger, and bloody cursed myself for doing it b'cause it bleedin hurt my face.

"You don't' see how serious this is getting, do you?" She pushed a tad too long and a bit too hard on one of my bruises to emphasize her irritation, causing me to flinch. "I'm telling you, if you don't improve on your behaviour we're going to get into some serious trouble with lady Jaws closing in."

I tried to blink with the one eye that I got left which was not completely beaten shut.

"I don't know what you're trying to tell me luv. Seriously puzzled here. What's with the reference to the fish monster?"

"Dr Walsh. Senior psychiatrist with astounding powers to doom any patient into oblivion because she has friends on high places. All you have to do if you have a dead wish is attract her attention and she will pull her strings to get you hooked up to the ETC equipment before you even can start screaming. "

"So, she's a bit of a cranky bitch then?"

"Oh yes, she's one scary and unpleasant harpy. And I was trying to keep her off your back. She seemed to have some morbid fascination with you, God knows why. She was trying to get you transferred to her department for special therapy."

I certainly didn't like the sound of that. Transfer to another department? If that would ever happen to me I was sure to see a lot less of my Slayer. A light panic entered my consciousness, making my skin tingle.

"So now what, I'm on her list for Santa now? Why is she picking on me for anyway. I don't even know the ol' bint."

"She thinks you're dangerous. Remember that test you did last Wednesday?"

"Yeah." I furrowed my brows. "The one with those funny questions you mean?"

"The one I asked you to fill in very carefully and not to fool around with."

"Look, I did exactly what you asked me to do."

"Will." She tossed the cloth on my bed and jumped right up, agitated. "When you were asked what you wanted to do once released from the institution you answered that you would like to go down to the Double meat palace to get your fangs imbedded in one of the juicy co-workers there. And your favourite colour seemed to be fresh aortic crimson with just a hint of ripped out gut's dark brown. Don't tell me that you were trying your best to be serious when you were writing all that crap down on your inquiry form."

"I was, actually."

"Yeah right! You were obviously trying to sabotage your tests!"

"Hey! You were the one who told me to answer in all honesty. Not to bloody lie to them. I could have made up an entire political correct poofter version of myself to please those pencil suckers in letting me go if it wasn't for trying to keep my word. I'm not completely daft here."

I was getting angry with her. Bloody hell, why had she to be so bloody difficult? And why was everything that went wrong automatically my fault? Does she ever going to consider me more then her convenient personal punching bag?

"Just - just stop acting this crazy."

She sighed, and looked very tired as if she had been fighting off a whole army of demons instead of one bitchy shrink.

"That's easy for you to say. Look, I can't stop being who I am." I averted my eyes and stared at the wall, angrily. "Why can't you bloody see that?"

"I don't want her to take you away from my care. Please listen to me Will, it 's really for your own good. I'm not trying to read you a lesson here or trying to mould you into someone better. I know you too well by now to keep those naïve hopes up."

I kept my gob shut and continued to pretend that she wasn't even in the soddin room.

"Fine, keep acting like a spoiled little kid. I've done my best to warn you. You want to be sent to the hell dimension of modern psychiatry, be my guest."

She turned away from me. Surprised that she was giving up so easily this time, I shot her a short glance, and got myself staring straight into her eyes again.

"I just wanted to tell you that I and the guys are going out on a fieldtrip this afternoon. I want you to join us."

"Thought you said I was on my own now. Why the sudden change of heart?" Smirking slyly I added. "Are you going to reward me from now on for my bad behaviour since whacking me is obviously not doing the trick?"

"Just show up at two. Grouping is in the recreation room on the sixth floor." Without changing her frigid attitude, she left the room, leaving me to ponder what the bleedin hell this was going to be all about.

 

SCENE 8

Staring at the bright new world that had presented before my squinting eyes as I was standing outside of the institute, I wasn't that dead sure anymore if I was that eager to leave the loony bin this soon.

"Um, I think I need a blanket."

"Nonsense William, it's 90 degrees outside! You hardly need a coat, let alone an extra blanket." Dave again, always the sensitive and considerate one.

"Yeah, what's the matter though guy, afraid the sun will melt the white right off your ass?" Steward of course, always the infuriating ol' git.

Steward gave me a shove and I almost got hurled from underneath the small rim of shadow that was provided by the porch and into an alarmingly bright beam of sunlight, only able to regain my balance and back out of it at the very last sec.

"Hey, watch it tosser! Keep your scaly hands off me."

I pushed the wanker, causing him to stagger a couple of steps backward, and having his back slammed against the rotating doors. The fair amount of yelping that he did because of it was like music to my ears.

"You son of a bitch!"

He was ready to jump on me again, and I was ready to run back inside to kick his ass before he could turn our location into his advantage, when the Slayer rolled out of the revolving entrance and reacted immediately in her usual bossy way.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing! Get your hands off each other!"

Steward had me by throat. I snickered at him till I was reminded that I actually needed to breath in this stupid dimension.

"Steward! Let go of him! You're suffocating him!"

The savage wanker did what she ordered, and I sank through my knees, coughing violently while trying to catch my breath.

"Can anybody tell me what is going on? I spent two seconds trying to organize our lunch and then I find you guys out here trying to kill each other. Honestly, what's wrong with both of you? Can't you play nice for a change?"

"Well, he bloody started it." I bended over and kept my head between my legs, still struggling to breath. "He shoved me."

"Squealer!" Steward yelled.

"It seems that young William has troubles dealing with sunlight." Dave explained. "He kept asking for a blanket for comfort. Poor little thing."

"I was asking for a blanket to shield myself against the sun, you overly feminine freak show. Remember, vampire?"

"You see, major issues."

"I would have been surprised if he hadn't got an issue." Buffy opted.

"Ratty snitch face!"

"Ugly tosser!"

"That's enough! Look this was supposed to be a fun filled roller coaster ride of an afternoon, but it's starting to turn into my friend Anya's wedding party. And let me tell you that that was one hell of a dreadful picnic."

She grabbed me by my collar, and since I was wearing the traditional loony bin's outfitthat looked professionally shabby and was incredibly loose fit, I kinda swayed back up like a funny head on a spring.

"Look, I don't want to go on this soddin trip of yours anymore. You go with these losers. I stay home."

I yanked myself free from her grip, even here the Buff was strong enough to grab and hassle me around. How's that for being pathetic?

"What's the matter this time? You don't want to come with us because of Steward, or because you're afraid of a little bit of sunshine?"

I snapped my head around, gazing at her agitatedly.

"I don't give a rat's arse about the Red and easily Combusting One here."

"So it is the sunlight, isn't it? You are still afraid that you're going to turn into ashes as soon as you walk out there with the sun beating down."

My cheeks became flushed with humiliation as I felt the others ogling at me my like I was some kind of exotic rarity, a freak amongst freaks.

"I need more time for this." I stumbled nervously, much to my own amazement and irritation. "Look, I can't go out there. I'll burn."

There was shift of mood in the Slayer's eyes, and as she spoke again much of the harshness that had sounded in her voice earlier had melted away.

"You won't burn. Nothing is going to happen William. This is a good way to test yourself and face the inevitable. You can't and you won't like to be locked up in the clinic for the rest of your entire life."

"Actually, that sounds really tempting right now." And I gazed through the wall sized windows behind her back into the building with the nice dark corridors, thinking fondly of my depressing but window free room. "I'm done with day time prancing. It's rather overrated if you ask me."

The slayer gave me a friendly smile.

"Come here. Let's do this together." She grabbed me by my arm and pulled me behind her, heading for the border of the small strip of shadows that had been my bloody sanctuary.

"It's just a one minute walk. The bus is parked around the corner."

She stepped over the thin line that marked the end of the shadowy patch, and then waited for me to cross as well, while her hand hold on to me tightly. I had thought that she might just drag me over right into the sun without as much as turning her head to see if I was actually smoking or not, but she surprised me with her considerate attitude and her patience. She just stood there in the sunlight, a encouraging smile on her lips as though she was inviting me to join her.

I waited till the others had passed by and were already halfway down the street, then decided that it was rather chicken shit to not at least give it a try and, after taking one last look at the Slayer, I crossed the grey and stepped into the light.

To be completely honest here, I was expecting to hear a sizzling sound, a smell of burning leather and the sensation of mind-numbing pain.

However, much to my surprise, there was none of that at all.

"You see! That wasn't frightening at all was it? Now can you please open your eyes so you can see where you're going? Or do you want me to play guide-nurse for you as well?"

Usually, this kind of comment coming from her was just begging for a juicy comeback that would make her blush like a 19th century maiden, but at the moment, all the wit had been melted off me by the freakishly scary, but also strangely exciting experience of actually to be standing outside during the day, bathing in a beam of sunlight without so much as a getting sunburn. The sun warmed my skin, wrapping me in a most comforting blanket of heat and I could see an orange glow through my closed eyelids. Slowly, I opened my eyes, blinking and squinting against the sun I saw a whole new world stretch out in front of me that started with the bright yellow and whit flower beds lining the borders of the path leading to the pavement, down the cheery, white houses with bourbon red roofs, up to the two giant maple trees that marked the end of the street.

Everything was so bloody intense and so bloody shiny, it hurt to look around, but I could hardly make myself not to. Had the sky always looked this blue? And the clouds drifting near the brilliance of the sun, had they always been like this, white with just a rim of gold as if a bloody angel had dipped them in bucket filled with fairy dust? Am I having one of my headtrips again or am I really, really here?

Buffy waited once again patiently for me to adjust myself to this strange world, giving me enough time to absorb it all and put myself at ease with these new experiences. I must have looked like a blind bloke who had miraculously regained his sight after having spent most of his life being lost in total darkness.

Finally, our eyes met again again.

"Are you all right William? Do you think you'll manage to join us?"

I gazed back at her and slowly, I nodded.

The smile that she had been wearing widened into a huge contagious grin as she took my hand and lead me further down the sunny path.

 

---

ACT 7: Murphy's law dictates that whatever goes well, must go wrong at one miserable point in time eventually.

SCENE 1

My fingers were tapping on the table, tapping at a rhythm of a song I've heard a couple of weeks or maybe a couple of decades ago. It didn't make any difference, for it was too tuneless to be recognized as anything decent anyway. For a moment, I considered whistling too, but my lips were just too dry and couldn't carry a tune.

I was starting to get on his nerves.

"Will, can't you just stop that."

I pretended I didn't hear and ruffled with my fists on the tabletop. The bag he brought with him quivered, and I could hear a couple of bottles tinkling inside. That sounded promising.

"Will! Stop it!"

"Look, I'm just trying to provide some background music to highlight the occasion. Build up an exciting atmosphere, you know, like at those TV shows when people are winning stuff."

Liam sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Just open the bag. You're not winning anything here. It's just some stuff I thought you might need."

Trying not to look too greedy or curious, I grabbed the plastic bag and dragged it over to my side of the table.

"You really know how to spoil this for me. You know that? The next big event I can look forward to is a rerun of the third season of Passions, and that won't be on till over a week from now."

"I didn't exactly say what was inside the bag."

Eying him suspiciously, I took a peek.

It took me one minute and thirty seconds to go through the entire content and conclude that there was nothing in there that could be considered even slightly useful.

"And?" Liam asked, hopeful and moronically naïve. "What do you think?"

"I am amazed. Really." I answered. "I mean, first you asked me if I needed anything. Anything at all. I give you a whole list, neatly written in readable letters, since you complained that my ordinary scribbling was completely incomprehensible, and on a sheet of decent paper instead of using a piece of yellow post-it. Then you come back after a week and manage to bring me a full bag with absolutely nothing in there that I've asked for. Tell me mate, were you really drunk when you went out shopping or did you simply not give a damn?"

"Look, you know I can't bring you any of those things that were on that list."

"Why not?"

"You're not allowed to smoke or drink in here." He answered impatiently. "So your request for a couple of bottles of Bourbon and a six pack of expensive foreign beer is really out of the question. The same with the cartons of cigarettes you wanted. And why on earth did you need an two inch blade Swiss army knife for?"

"For stuff." I snapped back, putting the real reason why I needed it behind a locked door at the back of my mind. Didn't want to upset the poof. "Look, I want my bloody fags!"

"Yeah, you can forget about it little brother. I'm not gonna budge and watch you smoke yourself into a lung cancer patient."

"Yeah well, then watch me waste away in here suffering of deadly depressions." I gave him a very accusing glare. "I mean, what the bloody hell I'm I supposed to do with this here then? I don't even do my own laundry."

I tossed the package of fabric softener out of the bag and onto the table.

"I thought you might ask the nurses to have your clothes washed in it. You said it yourself that that outfit they're putting you in are giving you rashes."

I snorted. Really something typical for the bloody poofter to consider. "And why did you bring me these?"

"Ah, freshly bottled apple juice." He said, pointing at it with a content grin on his face. "Vitamins. Something that will built up your strength without turning your liver into purple haggis."

"I'm not recovering from something physical here." I ogled disappointedly at the bottles of urine coloured fluid. I already checked the labels but there wasn't a single drop of alcohol in it. Could have even been delighted with a couple of bottles of cider here. "It's all in my head, remember? So why don't you bring me something that was intended to clear out the mind instead of this nochey hippy stuff?"

"Will, don't be so difficult."

"I'm not being difficult. I'm complaining because I feel I'm being mistreated. Why don't you care more about those wankers in here who stuff me full with shiny little happy pills instead of worrying about my daily intake of vitamins? Since when did you become all maternal?"

Liam pulled that face again, the placid I - am - so - very - not - insulted look, while underneath the surface the whole soddin volcano was raring to go BOOM! I knew that look far too well from Angelus, and if I were a clever bloke I would just stop here with pissing him off. However, this was Liam. The fabric softener version of the bloody poof and therefore even more harmless, I wager. And I happened to be his only little brother.

Surely he would have a wee bit more tolerance for me then usual.

"What's this?" I asked, chuckling sarcastically. "A tube of moisturising skin cream!?"

"It's not skin cream! It's a homeopathic ointment for - "

"And what's all this then? Herbal tea, vitamin pills, bloody cans of sun- dried prunes? What, you accidentally switched brown bags with a constipated old gran?"

"No! I didn't! Look I just thought you might -"

"Oh! Don't tell me, you got this stuff home already. Just cleared out the kitchen cabinets in one mighty sweep and tossed this bag together for poor little Spike. Well, let me tell you one thing mate; no wonder you're constipated with that large stick constantly up your soddin ar- "

Liam leaped out of his chair. The expression on his face was absolutely no longer hiding the deadly eruption underneath; his mouth was crudely hooked, his large hands were clenched into white knuckled fists and if looks could kill. Well, let me say that I would have ended up fitting in a tiny ashtray. Or a very tiny coffin. Nowadays I'm just not sure what I bloody am anymore.

I really don't want to admit this. But I was genuinely scared of him.

Too much Angelus in the bloody poof then I could possibly manage.

He leaned over the table and had me by my loose fitting shirt before I could jump out of the chair.

"Look you ungrateful little brat!" He spat. "I brought you this because I thought it might help you to get better. I'm just trying to help."

"Yeah. Why don't you try staying away from me for a change." My daft mouth was once again quicker then my slow working brains. "I just got enough of your soddin assistance, you bloody poofter!"

I flew with my back against the wall, the chair tossed on the floor with what should have been enough racket to get Mighty Mike in here to save my ass, but for some bloody reason, a nice prank that the cosmic powers are playing on me perhaps (they never really did like me much), he didn't show, and I was stuck with the mouth foaming poof turning Angelus on me.

My spine ached as it hit the tiled surface. Angelus' face hovered a nose length away from mine. I tried to smack him, but he seized my wrists and pinned them down above my head. Dangling there like a bloody defenceless idiot, I couldn't stop all those heavily sealed doors inside my mind from soaring open. Very bad memories surfaced. Dark nights. Decades ago. Sweat and tears. Pain. Lots of it. And blood.

Blood everywhere.

Oh God, I really would like one of those soddin happy pills right now.

His grin was cold and vindictive. Not a trace of Liam or Angel was left in there.

"Dad was right about you. You're one piece of intolerable shit. You won't listen. You just won't till you're smacked around like a bitch." His grasp around my wrists tightened till it became painful. I started to breathe heavily and I tried to kick him with my legs, but he surprised me with a violent blow as he pushed his knee into my stomach. The air was kicked out of my lungs, and I wanted to double over out of pain.

"Even a dumb mutt can learn faster then you can. You wanne try me again, little brother?"

I shook my head anxiously. What's going on? This couldn't real. He.he couldn't be Angelus.could he?

He pushed his crotch between my legs and I could feel his cock trough his damp trousers, hard and erect like a soddin flagpole.

This must be a nightmare.

Please let it be.

"I'll teach you how to behave. You're like a stupid little dog that needs to be told what to do." He hissed, and lowering my arms, he turned me around to face the tiles. When I struggled, he grabbed my hair and banged my head against the wall. It then became frightfully clear to me that, without my supernatural strength and agility, his advantage in posture and weight would make him win in any brawl against me every time. By the time he slipped his hand down my knickers, pushed between my legs and touched my arse, I was too numbed by fear and feeling too defeated to be able to defend myself against him any longer.

The only thing left that I could do was to try to hold back the tears as my eyes became glossy.

SCENE 2

"Will? William?"

I didn't react. Didn't even flutter my soddin eyelids.

"William! Look, is there something bothering you? If there is, you really should tell me."

"Tell you what?" I asked. We were in the recreation room, Buffy Nightingale and I. The other mental health patients, or loony bin citizens, or whatever I should call them without being politically incorrect were keeping themselves busy in here. They were reading, or playing one of those daft company games like scrabble or apple chess. Most of them were hanging out in front of the telly, drooling over a kiddies program involving a big fat purple dinosaur. I myself was joining a couple of others in their attempt to record whatever was spooking inside our loopy minds on a piece of bad quality canvas. Buffy looked over my shoulder to study my work, and somehow it seemed to trouble her.

"There's nothing bothering me." I lied. "What made you think there was?" I frowned. "Did I do something wrong again?" It came out so naturally that it didn't even surprise me anymore. I mean, come on, it's always something that I've done, isn't? There are people mysteriously killed by a bunch of unidentifiable vampires, oh it's probably Spike. Buffy is suffering of Joan of Arc syndrome and comes to me for a little bit of cold comfort, so the evil fiend had wickedly seduced her of course. Captain Card Board comes back to Sunny D to do a little bit of early Eastern egg hunting, I end up with my lair burnt to bits, just because I want to make some money for the financially troubled Slayer. There is the possibility that our planet is going to be struck by a giant meteorite which gonna end the whole bleedin puppet show; let's grab our pointy sticks and Christmas nutcrackers and go have a jolly good go on the vampire's testicles.

Buffy watched me, guilt written on her face. "Oh no! Absolutely not! I mean, you were very quiet the last few days. Which is excellent of course!"

You see? I'm only good enough for her if I shut my gob and pretend to be a piece of wooden furniture or something. Women.

"It's just." She hesitated and gazed once again at my painting. "Um, Will, don't take this too personally, but what are you trying to paint here exactly?"

"Isn't it obvious then?" I asked, frowning and a bit insulted, though I knew that I was never any good at drawing stuff. I guess she was more familiar with the little masterpieces Angelus used to leave behind on her bed. The asshole couldn't even write a decent grocery list, but he was a hell lot better than me on the ol' charcoal and paint. For some very unfair reason, chicks really seem to fall for that.

"It's a.hmmm."

I blinked my eyes a couple of times, my mind trying to make something out of the chaotic lines and shouting primary colours that were snaking up and down the black painted canvas. Big fat blobs of paints were splashed on the surface, like someone had just gagged all over it. Bloody hell, what was I painting here?

"It's.It's something.abstract." I tried, tilting my head to one side to observe it better. "Probably."

"You used up all the red acrylic paint." She said. "There isn't a single tube left for Steward here to paint his fire with. And I really think you shouldn't let Giles or anyone of the staff see this. I know that it is a part of the art therapy class that you ought to be able to express your inner frustrations, but this." She hesitated, her pretty face showing total disgust. "Frankly, this is just too much."

She tapped on my shoulders, a friendly gesture really, but I got no soddin clue why she asked me to get rid of the painting. It didn't look threatening to me at all.

It didn't look like anything really.

"Just throw it away and start over again." She opted.

"We're out of blank canvases."

"Well.then.I don't know. Paint over it, for God's sake!"

She went to the next Rembrandt; mister Steward the Inferno demon, who was painstakingly drawing tiny little faces on people trapped in a large building engorged by fire. If I was not mistaking, there was a funny little burning figure jumping out of the window from the tenth floor.

And she thought my painting was sick.

It wasn't until we came back after lunch and I approached my work of art from a distance, that I finally saw what I had been painting.

There, in crude, twisted lines and badly chosen colours, was the indisputable figure of a demon. His tall body crooked but powerful, his face partly hidden underneath blots of red paint, illustrating blood, but still chillingly recognizable.

The dark creature was sodomizing a faceless young man, the naked victim's body pressed helplessly against a brick wall overgrown by creepers covered in thorns.

There was red acrylic paint just about everywhere.

I didn't scream or anything. Just grabbed the soddin thing straight off the easel and tossed it in the bin, pouring a pot full of thinner over it till the recreation room smelled like a toxic chemical plant and I got yelled at by that wanker Steward. I didn't give a rat's arse about it. Just made sure that the entire coat of paint was stripped off the canvas before I turned my back on the whole thing.

I think I'll give up art therapy for a while.

SCENE 3

I had a bad dream last night. No, not a bad dream. More like a soddin nightmare, really. I was in a living room. Large. Nicely decorated and immaculately clean. Modern. With an impressive wall sized window that reached to the floor, looking out at a green and lush garden. I noticed that the weather outside was bloody awful. A thick blanket of dark clouds hung low over the horizon, gushes of wind stripped the trees in the garden from their green foliage, and tiny specks of rain appeared on the glass. Somewhere far away came the rumbling of thunder.

I was still not myself in that dream. Funny, isn't it? Even in my sleep I'm not allowed to be Spike. I have to be content to be William, the eternal victim.

Anyway, Liam was there too.

This time, he was even a bigger poofter then he normally is. He was really upset, pacing around the place while running his hands through his hair, tense enough to yank bits out of skull, so to speak. Not that he ever would of course. He wouldn't function properly without his pointy hairdo to scare off the other demons with any sense in hairstyling.

But so to speak.

"Look, Liam." My voice was trembling, anxious. My throat was awkwardly dry. "I don't think you can go on like this. You need help."

"I don't need any help!" Liam turned toward me, his face damp and sweaty, his grim eyes desperate. "I'm. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for those horrible things I've done to you but. you have to understand. I cannot help it. I. "

His bit on his lower lip, tears shining in his eyes.

"I wasn't myself."

"I know it's not your fault." I tried to reason with him. "You're not.him. You're not violent and.and not vindictive. I know that you care about me and would never do anything to hurt me. But he's just getting too bloody strong. Liam, please. Go see a doctor."

"You don't understand." He hissed. "I can't afford to go see someone for help! They're gonna lock me up for this!"

"You bloody well have to! It's getting worse and worse every time."

"It will pass. It always does. Sometimes he stays away for months."

"Liam, listen to me."

"And - And if it gets too bad, I still got those pills Dr. Kiernan has given me. I can repress my blackouts with those. Make him go away." He said it as if he actually believed in it. That a couple of those cheap Prozac imitations could save him or me from the monster that was threatening to take over his life.

"Liam!" I was screaming instead of talking. I was bloody well done talking. "Don't you have any bloody idea what you've almost let him do to me? He was trying to get into my knickers and fucking rape me! If I hadn't whacked him on the head with that soddin lamp, you could have.You."

I was suddenly out of air as my stomach started to object. I retched dry, my emotions getting the better of me. I saw Liam approaching tentatively, as if he wanted to offer help, but finally didn't dare.

"How long do you want to wait before you decide that it's enough?" I asked. "Till you're no longer yourself anymore? Till he has taken over completely and I've lost my only family that I have left to that bloody sadist? Is that what you want?"

There was a long, burdened silence as I waited for his answer, which never came. Liam just kept staring at me, his eyes praying for forgiveness, his lips perhaps mumbling it softly without the words reaching my ears, but for my tensed nerves and my wary mind, that wasn't anywhere near enough anymore.

"Right then." I said, turning away from him with as much dignity as I still could manage. "If that's what you got planned for the rest of your life, I'm leaving."

I went upstairs to the guest room, emptied the closets, jammed my clothes in my bags without giving much notice, and rushed back downstairs again. In the hall, Liam was waiting, blocking my way out.

"Will, you can't leave now. We have to talk." He started.

"We're done talking."

"It's getting worse outside. You have to stay, at least till the bad weather is over."

"I'll take the risks."

"Look, Will... Just give me another chance and listen. Listen to me, will you?"

"No. It's done. I've made my point with you. You've got to see a doctor for this. A proper one. Not Dr. I-don't-have-a-licence-to-practice-and-I'm-not- really-a-doctor Kiernan. That bloke picks bullets out of gangsters and prescribes drugs to addicts. You need a head doctor. A bloody shrink. Get it?"

I pushed him out of my way, and to my surprise, he let me through.

"As long as you're still convinced that you can survive like this," I added, swinging the front-door open and gazing at the rain that was falling out of the darkened sky in buckets outside, "I would rather not come here to see you anymore."

As I stepped through the rain, heading for the rusty green Lincoln that was parked at the end of the deserted suburban street, I knew for certain that my brother kept watching me till I got into my car and slammed the door close at the driver's side. I caught a glimpse of him in my side mirror, still standing there in the rain in front of his porch after I started the engine and drove off.

The dream ended in a series of hazy tidbits. Small snapshots. Nothing fancy. As if my brain suddenly decided that it had done enough for one night and filled the remaining airtime with badly edited parts, like what TV channels usually do after primetime. The only thing I did clearly remember was that my hand was pierced by tiny pieces of the car window, and my blood mixing with the rain and the mud.

I guess it was all just a dream, and I should forget about it. It's not like I'm expecting to have this same thing over again tonight, and since it's only Monday, I still have three days left before the poof's visit day. No reason to go out of my mind here and talk myself into doing total cracker stuff.

Tomorrow, I'm gonna have a huge bowl of cereal, drink a glass of that apple juice Liam brought me and have a good laugh at this daft nightmare of mine. Perhaps I'll even tell Buffy about it, so she can tell me to sod off with my paranoid ramblings. Just to keep a bit of normal dialogue between us flowing, you know.

SCENE 4

If it wasn't for the fact that William had mentioned these titles himself, Buffy would had never guessed that her patient's taste in books was so peculiar.

She was heading back from a one-hour lunch that had consisted of a canteen style tuna sandwich that she munched down in a hurry and flushed away with half a can of tepid diet-coke. She then went to the big Waterstone bookstore at Fleet Street, spent fifteen minutes staring at the backs of rows and rows of books before she decided that she was not going to risk a permanent neck injury for this and went to wait in the long checkout line for the cash-register to ask for some assistance. The people in front of her moved like snails, and of course there just had to be one eccentric geezer among them who liked to pay his 8 dollar paperback in coins and lose buttons instead of real cash. Finally, after another fifteen minutes of waiting and bitching, she managed to get one of the salesladies away from behind the counter and find her the titles she had been looking for.

"You know dear, they are sorted in alphabetical order on author's names, really." The elderly woman said, frowning upon her either for her laziness or her naivety for not knowing too much. "It just works like a library. You do know how to find books in the library, right dear?"

Buffy Ann Summers, a 23 year old PhD student with a master degree in psychology, blushed her cheeks crimson and had stammered something along the line that she was in a kind of a hurry, paid for the books and left the shop while making a mental note to herself that she was absolutely never going to visit that bookstore again, which unfortunately would become a problem since there was only another small second-hand bookshop in Sunnydale left for her future literature purchases. If she needed to buy anything more specific or in a better shape in general, she had to get on the bus and travel 15 miles down to next town to get it.

"You better appreciate this, Will." She mumbled beneath her breath as she changed back into her hospital outfit and put her regular clothes away in her locker. "Thanks to you, Dawn's gonna get a Britney Spears CD instead of a Ann Rice novel for her next birthday. But I guess there wasn't that much competition in the first place, anyway."

She brushed her hair into a ponytail, locked her closet, and grabbed the brown paper bag from the bench. As she past the hangers on her way out of the ladies' locker room, she snatched her doctor's coat off the hook and shrugged it on while she rushed down the corridor, heading for the recreation area. She was still struggling to secure her nametag on her collar when she bumped into someone tall and brooding.

The paper bag dropped out of her hand, spilling the books all over the floor with most of them flapped open with the cover side up, just like peanut-butter sandwiches. She knelt down to recollect them, meanwhile hastily apologizing for the incident.

"Here, let me help you."

She looked up, and wasn't a bit surprised to find herself staring into the dark hazel eyes of William's brother. That pinewood scented aftershave Liam Byron wore, it tend to seep into your memory in an irreversible way, like a person's own body-scent tend to soak into their bed sheets and clothes.

"Penny Dreadful, American Psycho, Red Dragon and -" Crouching next to her, he picked up the last book and turned it 90 degrees to read the title on the cover. "David Copperfield? Forgive me for saying this, but you have a weird and slightly suspicious taste in books for a doctor." Liam smiled, raising a dark, handsome eyebrow. "Except the last one of course, they made me read that one in high school."

" Oh, hi Liam!" She said, feeling a strange fluttering come up in her stomach as their eyes met. "They're not mine, really. They are for William. He asked for these titles in our library but they didn't have them. Wasn't really a surprise, they're kinda on a small budget and the most recent books they have added to the collection are second hand and include titles like "Addicted to Baskets", "The exciting World of Needling", and "A thousand and one Recipes for baking Fruitcakes". Hardly any reading material for any of my patients."

Liam stared at her for moment with a lost and puzzled expression on his face, then the rusty penny finally dropped and he burst into a pleasant chuckle.

Buffy smiled back at him, her heart now quivering in her chest like crazy. Okay, she thought, you almost freaked him out or bored him silly with your clever jokes. If you're trying to impress this guy, please don't. Yes, he's cute, and handsome, and tall, and probably sane, but it doesn't mean that you have to fall head over heel for the first decent guy you find hanging around this sterile place. Keep some dignity here, desperate lady.

She shook her head for a moment, her ponytail wagging cheerily along. Focus Buffy, be professional.

"You're kiddin." Liam sniggered and put the books back into the paper bag and handed it over to her. "Addicted to baskets. Hah! Good one."

They both rose up at the same time. Buffy held the bag in front of her chest and wrapped her arms around it, looking much like a nervous school girl facing the local football hunk. Her facial muscles were aching because she tried to smile sweetly while trying to suppress a nervous twitch at the same time.

"And that part about Will reading American Psycho!" Liam continued. "Honestly Buffy, you're smart and funny!"

"Um, well, actually, he really did ask for these books." Buffy felt her cheeks flush warm, feeling strangely embarrassed.

"Oh." Liam's mouth dropped open for a moment. "Oh. I didn't know he likes to read this kind of - um - literature." He sucked in a breath of air and puffed a lock of hair away from his eyes. "Seriously, all these violent thrillers about murdering psychopaths." He furrowed his brows in concern. "Are you sure this is safe for him? I mean, I don't want to question your judgement or anything. You are the one with a PHD in psychology here. But my little brother's mind is already kinda twisted. Won't these books somehow make it even worse?"

"Well, um." It was now Buffy's turn to furrow her browns, what could she to say to that? She wasn't very keen on the idea of giving her patient a book load of violent inspiration to get him sicker then he already was, but Will really wanted these books. He had been bitching and moaning about the lack of good reading material in the library for weeks now and Buffy could tell that he was bored silly, particular since she had taken away his packs of cards after the gambling annex cheating fiasco where he got himself beating purple by Steward. The last few weeks however, William had kept himself quiet and pleasant towards the other patients, and Buffy liked to reward him for his good behaviour.

"Don't worry." Her hand made a brushing movement in the air as if to clear away his concerns. "I think he can handle this. Will's behaving quite normal lately, and has even made some friends with the patients of his therapy group. I think he deserves a treat."

"All right." Liam tense from relaxed a little. "If you believe they can't do him any harm."

"You're here early Liam, it's only Thursday." Buffy asked, trying to change into a more comfortable subject. "I thought you usually come to see Will on Fridays?"

"I took a day off from office to spend a long weekend here." A conspicuous grin appeared on his lips together with a mischievous twinkling in his hazel eyes that made him look very attractive. "Don't tell Will yet, but I have a surprise for him."

Liam had a dark leather briefcase with him that Buffy hadn't even noticed until now, and the young man pulled up his right leg and put the case on top of it, clicked it open and grabbed out a thick envelope. He handed it over to Buffy while he balanced on one foot trying to shut the briefcase again.

"What is it?" Buffy asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "Can I have a look?" She already had her forefinger under the small pocket of space beneath the front flap and was eager to flip it over to take a peek. A delayed "No." coming from Liam wouldn't be much appreciated.

"Of course. It's only something silly and sentimental. Nothing incriminating to the Byron family, really." Liam laughed, he was finally finished with struggling with his briefcase and dropped it on the floor next to him.

Buffy opened the large, brown envelope. The paper crisped between her fingers. There were photos inside. She took the stack of pictures out, carefully handling them as they seemed to be rather old and brittle. Her blue eyes met those of a little boy's, piercing and striking against the faded, yellowish colours on the background. The boy was looking right into the camera, his small arms clutched around a stuffed toy. He had his head cocked to one side and had a very familiar, very confident smirk on his young and innocent face.

"Oh God, Is this who I think it is?" Buffy asked, giggling cheerily.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is Will, that cocky grin of his never changed much over the years."

"He looks so - so sweet." Buffy frowned and regarded her patient's brother with disbelief. "Are you sure we're talking about the same guy here?"

"Our mom took that picture when he was seven. Guess the real wickedness only got into him after that age."

"Perhaps your real little brother got lost on one of your mom's shopping sprees and she took the William we both know and fear, home by mistake."

Liam snapped his fingers. "I knew that there was something wrong with him when he suddenly refused to play with his mister Fluffy Bunny."

Buffy smiled pleasantly, this time it came easy and natural, and she noticed that the mad pounding of her heart had somewhat eased down. "You've got to be kiddin me. Mister Fluffy Bunny. Who would have guessed that from Will with his whole "I am a Big Bad vampire, so bite me" attitude. By God, I swear I'm gonna rub that in on him, professional integrity be damned."

They went through the whole stack, pointing and smiling occasionally. There were pictures of Liam and his parents as well, and from the look of them, Buffy would say that William must have had a very pleasant childhood, with a loving and caring family to look after him. His brother in particular, seemed to be crazy about his younger sibling. They were together in almost every picture, playing and having fun as two boys of their tender age were supposed to do in a carefree world.

"I thought it might help him to remember a bit more about his past and his family." Liam explained, putting the photos back into the paper holding, being very careful with them as if he was handling a priceless treasure. "I think he's responding well on my visits. He hardly snarls or bites or spits on me anymore." There was a smile on his face to indicate that he was joking, but it looked rather sore.

"You have to be patient with these things." Buffy said, trying to cheer up him up. "Learning to trust and love someone again starting from emotional scratch takes time."

Liam nodded, understandingly. "Still, I wished sometimes that I could see what was going on in his head. What is wrong in there. Some loose bolt that just needs to be screwed back on." He averted his eyes from her and bit on his lower lip. "I think he knows who I am, Buffy." His expression grew grim, and a hidden pain surfaced in his voice. "Really knows, with the whole emotional package attached to it that would allow him to act normal towards me. You know, like we are brothers again?"

She nodded in response.

"But something, something is holding him back from fully trusting me." He ran his hand through his hair. His fingers became sticky of the excessive hair gel he used. "He doesn't really trust me you know. I've been coming for months now. I talk to him. I bring him stuff, everything he needs that doesn't get him into trouble. I tell him about mom and dad, everything. He nods and he answers me, doesn't swear too much and hardly gets caught up in one of his raging tantrums anymore." He sighed and gazed back into the doctor's eyes, pleading with her to understand. "But he's also careful, calculative. He doesn't just say what in his mind when he's with me. He's holding something back. Christ, if I didn't knew any better, I'd say that he was afraid of me."

"Liam." Buffy tried, feeling sorry for the man as she noticed the sadness and despair showing on his face. "Sometimes, if a patient is detached from the world for so long, like William has, it's difficult for them to accept and get involved with their friends and loved-ones again. William has made the first steps towards recovery by letting you into his life. He doesn't protest to your visits, and as I heard from him speaking to his friends, he really does look forward every week to see you." That was little white lie that she made up to make Liam feel better, since Will hardly talked about his brother's visits to anyone, but she decided that it couldn't do both of them any harm to get Liam less worried about his little brother.

"He does?" Liam asked her warily.

"Yes, absolutely. So stop worrying yourself silly. It's probably just a phase he's going through. I think he's more afraid of accepting the reality that he has such a caring and loving brother looking after him then that he's scared of you hurting him in anyway."

Liam arched a dark eyebrow and nodded again. "I guess that sounds like a rational explanation. Especially since it's coming from a professional. Thank you Buffy." He smiled a little, lifting some of the anxiousness clouding his grim eyes. He continued on a lighter mood. "Um, do I need to pay for this session separately or is the bill automatically included with Will's?"

"No such luck mister Byron, you better take out your check-book, ten whole minutes of my valuable time, it's gonna costya." Buffy teased, showing him a warm and pleasant smile.

"Oh bummer, and I got only a couple of loose change in my pockets. Um, do you accept creditcards Dr Summers?"

Buffy shook her head. "No creditcards, only real cash will do, and don't try to pay me in lose buttons, shiny objects or foreign currency. I'm not getting paid much, but I'm not that desperate either."

"I guess I have to clear my dept to you in another way then. What do you think of a five course dinner at an expensive and decadent seafood restaurant in town, my treat."

She was stunned for a moment, opened her mouth to say something and then forgot completely how to speak English. Some primal noise came from here throat that sounded like; "Grahw, huh?"

"Um, I promise that there will be lobsters? Or if you happens to be allergic to them, large cocktail scrimps?" Liam tried.

"Grawhaha. Gwgrrahhahum. I would -I absolutely -" Buffy uttered, her tongue seemed to be tied into a knot and she couldn't get the words out of her mouth.

"If-if you're don't want go, it's fine. I know it's kind sudden to ask you out. You hardly know me -" He stared down at his shoes where a very interesting blob of mud clung.

"I'd absolutely love you." Buffy finally uttered. Then sucked in a deep breath as she realized what she just said. "To let you take me to dinner. I mean, I'd love to go." Her cheeks flushed and she felt terribly hot. Great move Valley Girl, making yourself look like a complete airhead sure is very attractive.

Luckily, Liam didn't seem to mind her hormones inflicted little mix up, and he acted like a true gentleman by ignoring it completely.

"Great! I'm here for the whole weekend, but the place I want to take you is less packed on Saturdays. Shall I pick you up at seven?"

"I've a shift from twelve till five next Saturday." Buffy said, reminding her schedule. "But we can go out directly after work. You can pick me up from here."

They discussed a little further about the details, then Liam said goodbye to her, promising that he will certainly be on time for their date, and they parted their ways. She twirled around and continued her stroll down the hallways to the recreation room, her feet dancing on air and her head filled with fluffy bunny thoughts.

 

SCENE 5

It wasn't that he hated to watch the telly during daytime or anything. Hell, he had been dreaming that he watched bad daytime programs all the time when he was vampire, but that was something he wasn't quite allowed to think about, since it had to do with his delusions. Dr Buffy told him better to concentrate on the things in reality. Little things that made him emotionally aware of his surroundings, including those that could get him winded up about. Like how that wanker Steward kept switching between Ophra and the Home Shopping Channel right now, till it could almost invoke a bloody epileptic stroke.

He had to push his nails into his palms to keep himself from punching Steward in his ugly mug. What the bleedin hell is wrong with him? Can't he just keep watching something for longer than a one hundredth of a sec? Why did that wanker had to have the concentration capacity of a soddin fruitfly?

He glanced at Steward, sitting there in the only comfy chair that wasn't reeking of stale urine or falling part in general, holding the remote control in his right hand and pushing on the buttons repeatedly with his disgusting red scaly thumb like he was ramming on the knobs of a soddin pinball machine. The urge to get up, whack the remote right out of his hand and then to strangle the bloody git was almost driving him crackers. With difficulty, he averted his eyes from the source of his annoyance and glanced out of the barred window instead. Sucking in a ragged breath that he slowly breathed out again, he shut his eyes and tried to ignore the sounds of fragmented conversations and static noise coming from the screen. It wasn't right to get upset about these things. He wasn't going to gain anything from getting really pissed off at Steward. However much he would love it right now to separate his ugly head from his spine, he had to control himself. Clear the rage out of his system. Ignore it. Keep his bloody gob shut. Particularly that.

He had not forgotten that it was that daft wiseass attitude of him that got him into this catastrophic kind of trouble in the first place.

He opened his eyes warily, opened his hands and looked down at his palms; his nails had made half moon rims in his flesh, which were bleeding a little. For a short moment, he felt the urge to lick them clean, but then he remembered that he wasn't really a vampire and therefore the whole lapping his own blood thing would be considered very disgusting instead of intimidating, so he decided to let it go. Quick thinking Spike. Dr Buffy is gonna be pleased. But you really shouldn't call yourself Spike anymore, you're just William now, remember?

He felt a mad giggle coming up, rising from his stomach like an itchy crawly insect, but he didn't want to let Mike or the one of the other orderlies to see that he was laughing about nothing in particular (Now that would be a real sign of madness, the sort that would get you wrapped up in tight, comfy white jackets in no time.) so he swallowed the gleeful little thing, and kept staring blankly forward instead. Nice and easy, not troubling anyone. Sitting there in his chair amongst a semi circle of drooling loons around the idiot-box from nine in the morning, letting his life slip by and watch the shadows cast by the barred windows stretch and shrink till the entire meaningless day was over and he was allowed to go to bed to have his bloody awful nightmares. Oh sure, life was hell in here, but he was fucking nuts so he just had to deal with it.

His hearing, although blunted by the drugs that were seeping slowly through his veins, could pick up the rattling of gate in the chain-link fence that kept the inmates from walking in and out of the daytime facility. He lifted his head and turned towards it a little. Something moist and warm dripped down his chin, and he was slightly aware that he was drooling. Great, he thought, the catering service with the fancy pills has arrived, just in time. I could use a handful of mind numbing goodness right now. Come to think of it, I could use the whole soddin car. Prozac, Paxil, and those pretty little shiny Rudex capsules, I take what ever you got nurse, as long as I can off myself for a couple of hours, I'm one happy little camper.

He swallowed, but his mouth stayed dry, and he was rather surprised to hear Buffy's voice nearby, talking to him.

"Hi William, how do you feel today?"

He turned around, and saw her standing there behind him looming over the back of his chair. She looked extremely pretty today, with her hair kept together into a happy ponytail and wearing a bit of make up on her blushing face that made her look like a young cheerleader. Hand her the pompoms, put her in a short sexy skirt and blow the trumpets, and she could be starting the game with a spelling spree. It's a petty she probably doesn't have any of my medication with her. That would have really made my day.

"I'm fine." He blinked his eyes and tried to look a bit more alive, then suddenly remembered the drool on his chin and tucked out his sleeves to swab it off, embarrassed. "Only a bit bored I guess. Steward there doesn't seem to be able to make up his bloody mind about what he wants to see."

The fellow inmate didn't turn around from behind his chair, but stuck out a one finger salute towards him as an answer.

"Fuck you Byron. It's my turn this week."

"Steward! Manners! Or do I have to come over there and confiscate the remote?" Buffy said in a strict voice.

Steward muttered something inaudible under his breath in response.

"It's okay, luv. I'm not watching anyway." He eyed at the annoying fellow inmate, feeling that tinge of rage rising again, but repressed it by averting his eyes and concentrating on Buffy's. "I um, am waiting for the shiny happy pills to arrive. Say, weren't they suppose to distribute them around two?" He blinked his eyes again as they became hazy. He really didn't feel well. "Isn't that about now?"

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked, sounding concerned. "It's only eleven o' clock in the morning." She reached out and planted a soft, warm hand on his forehead. "You're not ill or anything, are you?"

"Not more then usual." He sniggered. "Maybe it was something that you guys put in my breakfast this morning. I thought the cereal tasted kind of funny, like crunchy bits of smoked weed."

"You're not running a fever." She pulled back her hand that he regretted instantly; her touch had been very comfortable and somehow made him feel less bad about himself. "Maybe you're just watching too much TV. They say that getting too close to the screen will wreck your eyes and can possibly microwave your brains."

"In that case, I insist that you have that devilish thing tossed out. I'm here for my health and not for having my brains turned to mush." He joked, while his body broke into a cold sweat as if uttering the words alone were already taking him too much effort.

"Speak for yourself Byron, you don't wanne watch, your turn for next week goes to me." Steward shouted from behind his comfy chair, his yellow eyes never leaving the screen.

"Or you can sit a couple of rows back to protect yourself from the deadly radiation." Buffy opted and smiled supportively, ignoring the nasty remarks coming from the obnoxious patient. Come on Will, you're doing fine, don't let Steward get under your skin. He really isn't worth the trouble.

He shut his eyes for a moment, and counted back from ten, slowly. Buffy watched him as he tried to compose himself, his chest rising and falling several times as he breathed in deep through his nose. She didn't notice the white knuckled fists with the edges of his sharp nails digging into his flesh though, and so she had the impression that her patient was handling the situation rather well.

He opened his eyes again, and the first thing he saw was Buffy's warm and encouraging smile. He grinned back at her, a bit nervous and faked, for he felt there was nothing to bloody well smile about, and then addressed the other inmate in a composed and polite voice.

"You can have my turn if you want, mate, but I was only fooling around with getting rid of the telly thing. No need to get your knickers twisted." His ears were ringing, like they had been exposed to a heavy metal band plugged in to a couple of giant boxes. Somewhere at his back, a drop of sweat was rolling over the small of his spine.

"Like hell." Steward snorted, but didn't add another nasty remark to stir things up. He was probably content with the opportunity of having gained another week of continuous zapping.

Buffy was visibly relieved that her patient was handling the confrontation so well, and there was a sense of small satisfaction that made her smile widen broadly. "No swearing Steward." She opted. "You know the rules, and as for you mister Byron." She handed the crispy paper bag to him. "I believe you can keep yourself busy with these."

Will gazed up at her in surprise, then turned his attention to her gift. He turned the bag upside down and the paperbacks tumbled on his lap. Picking them up one by one, he looked at the titles, furrowing his brows.

"You bought these?" He asked, eyes blinking in disbelief. "You bought these for me?"

"Well, I was at the bookstore to find something for Dawn." Buffy muttered nervously, never much of a liar. "I thought, perhaps I could pick up something for you too. You know, to keep you from wrecking the recreation room or drawing the blood under my patient's nails out of pathological boredom."

There was an expression of gratitude on his face and Buffy felt that strange fluttering sensation inside of her again, rising slowly as William's lips curved into a pleasant smile.

"Thank you." He simply stated, and there was none of that tinge of mocking cheer that she had expected sounding in his sincere appreciation. "I'm gonna read them instead of letting ol' Steward here ruin my eyes with his cracker's zappin."

A warm feeling came over her as she looked into William's eyes, and suddenly she recognized the boy from Liam's photos in this grownup man. That look he gave her was warm and caring, innocent. Sad. There was something in this far too frequently obnoxious guy that made her want to wrap her arms around his shoulders, hug that little boy inside of him till that sadness went away and plant a comforting kiss on his forehead to make it all better. To make whatever was troubling him disappear so he could become the carefree, loving boy again that she had seen in the faded pictures.

"You're welcome." She said, being a bit overwhelmed by what she felt inside, but instead of giving in to her urge to coddle him, she just gave him a gentle squeeze in the shoulder.

 

SCENE 6

She felt something for me. She really did. I knew for sure, because she did all these special things for me. Gave me these little signs. She tried to defend me against that git Steward, tried to help me to keep myself under control. That smile on her pretty little face, you could defrost an entire jumbo-sized freezer with it in less then a sec. I loved that smile of hers, the way her eyes wrinkled in the corners, the giddy little sounds her throat made.

I could just live and die for that smile.

I was sitting on a wooden bench in one of the green, sterile looking corridors in which you could easily get lost since they all looked the same. The afternoon sun was gliding past a barred window at my right. Outside, the crooked branches of an old maple tree told me that I was somewhere on the second or third floor of the institute. The leaves were starting to bear the colours of autumn, although it should be still be somewhere in the beginning of September, at least, if I could still remember correctly with my drugs stained brains clouding my judgement. Smiling nervously while I thought of her, I brushed through the pages of the first paperback from the pile that she had given me. David Copperfield in Penguin edition, complete with the bright orange cover and printed in the cheap quality paper as grey as the type of toilet sandpaper we inmates used to wipe our arse with in the privy. I've read the book before, of course. My faked recollection told me it was a whole century ago. Back then, my first copy had been bounded in leather and the title had been engraved into the thick cover with golden, curving letters. It bought the book fresh from the print and with the smell of inks still lingering on the pages. I read it by the light of a flickering candle, living David Copperfield's life through the words of an amazing storyteller.

Still, that wasn't real of course. None of those memories were. I had never lived in the Victorian era. Had never been a repressed young English gentleman with a small heart and a passion for books. I didn't die in 1880 to return as a bloodthirsty vampire with a grudge against anything decent and organized, a feeling of resentment towards anything that tried to compose order in world of chaos.

Never had encountered Angelus or Drusilla either.

Angelus, my breathing became fast paced and irregular by the very thought of him.

My hands were damp, and the smooth cover paperback slipped through my fingers. I didn't pick it up immediately, rather closed my eyes and covered my face, bending forward while letting my elbows rest on my knees. I must have looked pretty desperate to any orderly or head-patient passing by.

I was actually rather desperate.

Ten more minutes. Just ten more minutes and then, Mike was gonna take me to see the poof. My stomach objected to the thought of this "pleasant surprise". Didn't expect him to show up till tomorrow afternoon. I really hoped that this was an exception that he came to see me on a Thursday and that he wasn't planning on making this into a weekly thing again. My mind was wilful and pig headed strong with a way in dealing with my brother's frequent visits, but in the end, it could only handle so much. I breathed in deeply, trying to keep my lunch inside where it should be. Didn't want to make a mess. Buffy would think that I was ill and get all over- concerned. Perhaps she would start asking questions, and I really don't want to tell her anything. Besides, I was a bit worried that the pills that they had given me weren't dissolved yet by my internal juices. I didn't want to get them out of my system, just at the very moment when I really needed them. I couldn't face Liam without any medication to calm me down, I really couldn't. One wrong look coming from him and I would start screaming like a girl.

A bitter taste of bile rose in my throat and I bended double as my stomach revolted like I was stuffing myself with cow-dung or stale blood or anything just as disgusting. I lurched, a warm sour smelling fluid with mixed texture splashed on the green tiles just in front of my bare feet, next to my paperback.

I heaved a couple of times more, but most of my retches were dry. Squinting my teary eyes down at the puddle of yuck on the floor, I saw that there were tiny capsules floating in it like canoes lost in the soddin mangrove of partly digested bread, oxtail soup and squishy bits of vegetables.

Bloody hell, I just barfed up my pills.

Dropping on my knees, I tried to pick them out of the mess, hands shaking like mad out of frantic despair. If anyone of the staff saw me doing this, it was gonna be hell. I swept through the revolting substance with both my hands, my trembling fingers unable to get hold of the slippery little things. My breathing had become ragged and my heart was quivering like a soddin earthquake.

"Will, You're brother is here to see you." I froze like a rabbit staring in the headlights of a heavy truck. Mikster was coming, just turning around the corner thirty feet away from this sad Prozac-addict who was trying to fish out his happy pills from his own pool of vomit. I heard his heavy, padded footsteps (Beefy Mikster wore paper sandals) resonate down the corridor. Really desperate now, I swept up a handful of barf with a red Prozac swimming in it, and lapped it up, swallowing the gooey mess while trying to ignore the compulsory contractions of my gullet.

It was bloody disgusting and it wasn't nearly enough. I usually get a whole handful of medication in the afternoon, a powerful mix of two red Prozacs, three green Paxils, and two nameless blue pills, all served in a fashionable paper cup that went down nicely with a gulp of water, but I've learned to munch them like they were tasty M&M's. They worked faster that way. One shitty little pill washed away with a semi liquid version of my lunch was never gonna make me tranquil enough to face the bloody poof.

"Will? What are you doing down there?"

I gazed up at the broad orderly, nervous and tense like chord. A drop of perspiration dripped in my left eye, making me blink.

"My God, are you feeling all right?" A large hand wrapped around my right arm, supporting me up in a semi tugging sort of way. The blood must have rushed straight out of my head because I felt nauseous immediately, and although I was in time to cover up my gob with a shaky hand, I lurched again, launching a good dollop of gag all over Mike's blue paper sandals. The small red Prozac pill got stuck between his toes.

Things never went easy in my life, it would be the end of sheer logic, chaos will rule and God himself will weep on the day that something went right for me for a change.

"I'm, I'm sorry." I muttered. Staring at the tiny red dot on Mike's left foot. I felt utterly helpless. No drugs left in my system to keep reality out, no pleasant shroud of unawareness that could protect me. I was going to be fed to a hungry lion without so much as a loincloth to keep it from biting my nuts off.

"It's okay, buddy." I caught Mike trying not to look at the rancid stuff dripping off his shoe. "We'll clean up the mess later. Are you all right? Do you need to sit down for a moment?"

"My stomach is upset. Lunch didn't went down well, I guess, but I'm fine, really." No need to get Buffy or Giles or anyone else who had the mind probing authority to ask pushy questions for a second opinion here.

"You're sure?" Mikster frowned, disapprovingly. "Will, you look as pale as a ghost! Maybe it's better for you to lie down for a while. I get Dr Summers to take a look at you and I'll tell your brother to come to visit you tomorrow."

"NO!" I responded, my voice a bit too loud and a tad too shrieky as I was swept up by panic. "Don't! Don't tell Liam to come back tomorrow! I can go see him now. I don't feel that bad anymore. No need to disappoint him." I got a vivid mental picture of Angelus showing me all the four corners of the tiny visiting room just for not getting into my pants today because Mikster was too concerned for my short term health to see any danger for me obtaining permanent damage here. Restrained sexual tension tended to do such thing to my good ol' Grand Sire. I would rather get it over and done with, then to have to go through something that would bear much similarities to the burning infernos of hell tomorrow.

"But you're in no shape to wander around!" Mike protested.

"Look, I'm fine, mate." I lied, tilting my head towards him and giving him a huge grin. "It's just the stuff they're serving at the canteen that got my stomach upset, that's all. If you really want to make me feel any better, ask them to stop recycling the food out of the garbage bin. Like we wouldn't notice!"

Mike laughed a bit, which was a good sign. "You're at least still able to bullshit around, aren't ya? Still bud, you're not gonna go anywhere today. I help you back into bed and you'll just have to stay there till Dr Summers tells you that you can get out again."

"I'm not ill Mike! I told you I'm fine!" I paused, a sudden stroke of pain hit me hard, wicked enough to turn my innards inside out. It made me gasp for air and made my eyes all teary, while I bended over in agony.

"Great Will, very convincing indeed. Just don't be too surprised if they give this year's Emmy to someone else. Now, tell me if you can walk. If you can't, I'm gonna grab a wheelchair for you."

"Bloody hell Mike, please!" I pleaded, my voice quivering out of strained effort and desperation. "Don't lock up in my room! I want to see Liam. He drove all the way from his LA to visit me and I don't want to let him down. He's - he's my only family that I got left and for so far I know, the only one who gives a bloody fuck about me." Wincing at the unintended pun, I liked my dry lips, my mind spinning while I thought how nice it would be not to have to tell Mikster here my little white lies and be able to let him drag me back to my lovely padded cell so I could deal with my nausea in silent agony. No such luck of course, at least not if I didn't want to have bits of me spread all over a large area of tiled walls, that was.

My bad over-dramatized acting worked better then that the orderly would have guessed, and the professionally concerned expression on his face changed into a display of pity towards this poor loony-bin patient.

"You're gonna barf all over him you know." He protested weakly.

"Risk taken. Look Mike, I don't mean trouble. I go with you to see Dr Summers as soon as the visiting hour is over, I promise. I just don't want Liam to think that I'm having a relapse or anything and start worrying about me again."

"Yeah. Well. I guess I can give you something to keep the nausea away for a while before you go."

"That would be nice." I said, although I doubted that it would help. I knew very well where all these sudden pangs of withering pain and all this urge to retch my guts out was coming from; my body rejected Liam's much dreaded presence like a soddin heart transplant gone stale. I hated his visits, hated the pain and the humiliation that they brought and the fact that I couldn't do a soddin thing about it to stop him from taking me every time he turned into that sadistic monster Angelus.

I just bloody hated myself for being so pathetically weak and so easy to get.

Try getting raped by your very own flesh and blood once a week for four months in a row, and you'll get to know the same sickening feeling of utter defeat, of betrayal. The kind that eats both your mental and physical health away from the inside out, till you're empty and cold, desperate enough to gobble down your own gag, to tell daft lies to save yourself from bloody torture while all the while you're balancing on the edge of sanity with one foot dangling above a bottomless abyss.

I told you I was desperate.

Mike helped me to get tidied up. Didn't want to turn up all smelly and disgusting to give Liam a chance to get upset, now do we? Mike also made me take a couple of children aspirins. They were tiny and tasted like candy in my mouth, but I guess it was better then nothing. I was already ten minutes late when he brought me to the small visiting room that lay behind the two barred fences to see my brother. Walking all the way down the hallway to what I considered a small pocket of hell on earth, I tried to calm myself down, and made my mind to think of something pleasant. Something that could still make me smile and make me believe my life wasn't just all fucked up beyond any hope. I thought of how she had surprised me with the copy of David Copperfield this morning, recollecting that million watts smile of her while feeling the smoothness of the paperback's cover between my trembling fingers, and I somehow, I remembered how to breathe normally again.

SCENE 7

There were things in life that weren't quite that easy for me to understand anymore ever since I had found myself a reluctant citizen of Sunny D's residential home for basket cases. My memories had to be one of them. Ranking high at the top of my list of soddin mysteries that is the burden of being mister William August Byron. If I were indeed the vampire called Spike I once had so firmly believed to be, I shouldn't be remembering anything, shouldn't be evoked to certain feelings of melancholy when observing these silly family snapshots. Shouldn't recognize the old folks in the pictures to be my dear mom and dad or remember that warm summer day back in '90, when my parents took us to Lake Michigan to spend the holidays. And that photo with my brother Liam in a yellow ducklings swimming gear, raising two fingers to form rabbits ears above my head shouldn't had brought a smile on my face.

But it did.

"Do you remember that we went swimming, and mom told us to stay in the children's area?" Liam asked, his eyes hopeful. We were sitting around the table in the tiny visiting room, my brother and I. A pile of photographs was spread out on the table.

"Yeah." I said, brushing through a series of photos. " It was daft though. The water in the deepest spot didn't even come up to my chest. You could hardly call it swimming. It was more like waddling." I opted. "And we were dipping in yellow kiddie pee. That place was for babies and toddlers."

"So you convinced me that we should swim out into the lake. Get past the orange safety line and try to get to that rack that was floating right in the middle of the bay."

I nodded, the memories of that day flooding in like a rich, heavy fluid pouring into a glass of water, sinking into the bottom of my awareness, feeling so very real that I had no trouble letting it displace the memories of other, much darker days.

"I thought that it would be a laugh. All the older and cooler kids were there, and I was almost twelve. I figured I could swim thirty feet into the open without cramping out in panic." A grin crept up my face. "Guess I was wrong eh?"

Although he rolled his eyes, his widening smile and the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes reassured me that his annoyance was only badly faked. "Will, you started to panic as soon as you couldn't touch the bottom anymore. I got the scare of my life when I looked back over my shoulder and saw that you were gone with only your pale little arms sticking above the water. "

"I almost drowned." I uttered, and closed my eyes for a sec. Although it had happened more then a decade ago, the panic of that moment, of not being able to breathe and the sensation of sharp cold water penetrating my lungs, the stinging in my nose and the noise of rising bubbles rushing my ears, stuck out in my memory, forming a recollection that was as solid as a rock and as clear as the soddin lake itself. Why did I remember this now? Why couldn't I remember this yesterday or the day before? Did that car accident have something to do with it? Wipe my memories clean, locked them up in a dusty closet in the back of my mind, till my dear brother here was so kind to open them for me with his treasured stack of family snapshots, making me remember how it was to live this normal life of a normal kid who had grown up into a not so normal bloke. Well, not in the mental-department at least. After three months of relentless therapy, I wouldn't dare to even give a second though of me being an evil blood thirsting vampire. That chapter had passed. I had given up on it, although I had troubles adjusting to my new role being the pathetic nut of the loving Byron family.

My head buzzed, as if it had just become heavily loaded. Somewhere in the dark, a small part of me was objecting to the invasion of these light, warm, and very forceful recollections, and clung desperately on the last bits of insanity that was left; mental images of blood and death and sin that was supposed to be worth a century of time in the life of a ruthless vampire, but had proven to be nothing more but my own sweaty delusions at the end. My hands shaking, I covered my eyes and tried not to listen to the merciless throbbing in my temples.

"Will, are you all right?" Liam asked. He sounded awfully concerned and I cursed whoever was supposed to be up there and had decided to make my life a living hell for letting my brother care for me this much. I couldn't hate him when he was kind to me. When he was also Liam as much as he was Angelus. Bloody hell, now I was letting him screw with my mind as well! Soon there would be nothing left of me but a bloody appendix attached to the poofter's cock. Some mindless idiot that opened his mouth and swallowed on command. Such a pathetic, fucked-up mess I was.

"Will? What is it? What's wrong?" I heard him push back his chair, the legs scraping on the tiles and walked over to me, his steps wary. I flinched as if struck by a blow as he placed his large hand on my shoulder.

"Please Will." His voice was calm, masking his anxiety underneath. "Tell me what's wrong. I want to help."

I swallowed hard. Tears stinging my eyes as I looked up and gazed at his grim expression. "You saved me that day. You saved me from drowning."

"I did." Liam said. A small smile crept up his face, lighting up the bleakness in his eyes. Hope tends to do such silly things to him.

"I don't want to remember it." I uttered. Distress clouded my judgement, loosening my vigilance around my brother that had been up and running ever since the first time Angelus came out to play. But I couldn't help it. My heart felt so heavy that I thought that it would bloody well sink to my toes if I didn't throw this out of my system. Tell my brother to stop torturing me with this before he drove me into complete madness and I ended up strapped in a straightjacket for the rest of my miserable life.

You could say that I was pretty much like a soddin elephant hopping on a minefield.

"I don't want to know how good you've been to me!" I hissed, anger rising like bitter bile, desperation choking my throat. I grabbed a couple of photos from the table, my hand clawing on them like a vulture holding on a dead furry animal. Liam's eyes widened in horror as I started ripping them into pieces. "I don't wanne remember how mom used to bake cookies with us at Christmas or how dad used to turn our home into a ghost-palace to scare to crap out of our friends at Halloween. I don't wanne know how much they loved me before each of them died." My vision became blurry as my fight against my tears left me defeated. "I don't wanne remember my family. They're gone now. All gone. There is no one left but me."

"What are you talking about, Will? I'm not gone. I'm still here for you! Please don't do this to yourself." Liam stuttered, no longer trying to sound calm. He stared at me with eyes wide in shock as if I had gone mad, or madder.

"Oh, you are gone too." I said. I licked my lips, tasting salty tears. "Only you don't realize it yet. Please, stop torturing me like this. Just -just leave me alone. Don't try to make mee care about you. Let me remember all these things that you ever did for me. We can't be brothers anymore. Not without you driving me to the point of snappin."

"But-But why? I don't understand. What-What have I done, Will? Tell me what have I done!"

I rolled my eyes, aggravated. The dull throbbing in my head had become a mad pounding, but it almost seemed merciful compared to the agony and frustration I felt, the crimes my brother had committed becoming more painful every minute past as memories of our shared childhood filled my heart with love and respect for him. It hurt like hell.

"Why-" I managed to say, although my voice was barely more but a whisper. "Why can't you just stop caring about me? Why won't you just let me hate you?"

"Because I can't." He crouched down beside me. His hand on my shoulder trembled. "I can't let you hate me. I can't let you slip away. We're family, Will. The same blood runs through our veins. Nothing in this world is more important to me then you are."

His words hit me hard in my sub-consciousness and sent shivers down my spine. I had heard them before, in another time and perhaps in another world, and I knew what worth they were coming from him. I wanted to jump up out of my chair and call him a bloody liar. Wanted to break something, trash the room and scream my lungs out. But I was hurt and undone, and all I could do was start sobbing like a child.

I slipped off the seat, my body weak and cold. I wanted to hide away somewhere dark, curl myself into a tight little ball, put this ugliness all far behind me. Instead, I crawled under the table, pulled my legs up against my belly and pushed my knuckles into my mouth, biting on them till I had the coppery taste of blood on my tongue and my sobs were muffled into soft whines.

Liam looked at me, his restless eyes showing endless pity and the corners of his mouth were strained, and trembling. "Please tell me what's wrong, Will." He uttered, his own emotions barely under control. "I beg you. Please tell me what's going on. I can't bear seeing you like this."

I gazed up at him, this man who was supposed to be my brother, my family, my blood. My mind was numbed and my resolve was broken, tired of fighting a brawl that was already lost. I didn't want to lie to him any longer to keep myself safe. Could no longer deny myself from facing the truth either. Angelus had done something to me that could never be undone. He had taken a part of me, a part of my being that I needed to be able to trust and care about others, and had turned it into something ugly. My emotions were so fucked up now that I couldn't distinguish seething hatred from true love and even if I did finally acknowledge it, this supposedly pure and upright virtue was constantly tainted by a haze of blinding jealousy and became eventually poisoned by my own selfishness.

Angelus was a soddin monster with a capital M, and he taught me well.

I loved my brother, I really did. He was a kind and selfless guy who wouldn't hurt a fly and wished nothing but to see me happy. I got a head- full of memories to proof that. But I had to tell him about Angelus. Perhaps he already knew. Like I told you, I was having nightmares confronting him about his nasty evil twin. Perhaps he didn't know or he just pretended he didn't so he could live with it. It wouldn't matter. I just wanted to get it over with and had this burden off me before Angelus came back to finish his job on me.

Swallowing hard, I gathered the last bit of courage that I had left and told him what was on my mind.

"You - You hurt me. You let him hurt me."

Liam's face paled, his mouth dropped open as if I had just shoved an icicle through his heart.

"I never - What do you mean? I don't understand. I would never, never hurt you - "

"Not you. Him. Angelus. It was Angelus. Every time you came for a visit. He appeared and - and - "

"Angelus? Who is Angelus? " There was a spark of terrified recognition in his eyes. "Him. You don't mean - No, Will. No! That's not possible!"

"It was him. You lost control over yourself a couple of months ago and when you did, you became him. He tortured me, Liam! I couldn't fight him off. Believe me, I tried but he was stronger then me. I couldn't stop him."

"No! No! No! That couldn't have happened. I haven't had a blackout in years. You must have dreamed it! You must have been delusional! There's something seriously wrong with you, Will." He stood up again, looking down at me, a sane man who had observed his brother's madness in its full ludicrous glory and was absolutely horrified and disgusted by it.

"Why are you doing this to me, Will? I only want you to become better again, for things to go back to normal between us. But you keep making up all these terrible things about me."

"I'm not lying!" I yelled through my tears. "You have to believe me, Liam! He was really here, and - and he raped me! He bloody raped me!"

Liam shook his head in dismay. "Lies William. All lies. You're very sick, my little brother. I had hoped that these three long months under Dr Summers' care would have helped you to recover from your madness. But it only gets worse." He sagged over, leaning with his knuckles on the table, his expression grim. "Perhaps I should have listened to Dr Walsh after all. She told me that your condition was far too severe to expect any improvement when I continued to allow Dr Summers to put you in social therapy."

A wave of panic hit me when he dropped the name. Walsh, I knew her. Skinny dried up old hag with a heavy scent of antiseptics lingering around her permanently. I only met her once as she brushed by in the corridors while I was on my way to group therapy, and she had eyed at me with a sort of unsettling predatory covetousness. And Buffy had mentioned her once or twice, used her as a boogieman to scare me off when I misbehaved myself, although everything coming from her pretty little mouth was as much threatening to me as a basket filled with fluffy kittens.

The thought of being subjected to Dr Walsh on the other hand, did easily scare the crap out of me.

"What do you mean?" I muttered, lips trembling.

Liam loomed over me, tall and massive, as self-assured and unyielding as the real Angelus would have been, addressing this ungrateful, lunatic childe. His hands slipped into the pockets of his dark coat where they formed bulges under the leather, as he bald his fists. His nostrils flared with every breath he took and a paralysing cold sunk into my stomach when the last sane part of my mind reminded me of how painful it was to have his knuckles bruising my skin and creaking my bones. How much brute strength could surface in this man when he was in rage and how weak and defenceless I myself was at this very moment.

I didn't dare to look into his eyes. Afraid to see that his soul had fled the place and the monster had already taken over control.

"Christ Will. I don't know how to say this, but -" He sighed, his voice dangerously calm. "It's time for you to face the facts here. You just can't keep blaming me for everything what had happened to you. I am not the one who's mad, William! I'm a sane, healthy man. You're the one who's suffering from delusions, from the ridiculous idea that you're a century old vampire called "Spike". " He spat the name out as if he was tasting something vile. "You made up this entire world where people are constantly bugging you, misunderstanding you, and casting you out like a fucking pariah. And still, you can't help yourself from fleeing back into this hell you've created and turn your back on the people who truly loves and cares about you. Why Will? Why do you want to torment yourself like that?"

I couldn't speak, my tongue useless, my mind gone. All I could do was weep with hollow eyes and shake my head feverishly. Staring at him from down on the floor like a sinner begging to his God almighty for forgiveness. His hands slipped out of his pockets and smoothened his hair. A pained grin appeared on his face.

"And then you invent this vampire character called Angelus. A ruthless, evil man that you hate and loathe and spends every breath cursing him till you almost choke in it. He looks like me, sounds like me. Tell me Will, do you really hate me so much that you have to make him up to hurt me? Because if you did, congratulation on a job well done." His voice sounded sarcastic, angry, hurt. It added guilt to my growing collection of maddening emotions that were ripping me apart. I continued to shake my head, terrified that he wouldn't listen, that he didn't understand that I was only trying to warn him. I wasn't mad at him. I didn't hate him. He was the only family I got left.

And Angelus was taking him away from me, wiping him out before my very eyes. There was nothing I could do about it.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I blurted out with a voice so weak that it was barely audible. The cold inside of my stomach gushed through my body and I hugged myself, trying to find some warmth and comfort. "I didn't mean to - Please - Please, you have to believe me! I'm not lying to you! I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy!"

My body started rocking back and forth as I hugged myself even tighter. My heartbeats drummed in my ears and the noise was soon accompanied by a dull pounding when I hit the back of my head against the wooden table-leg repeatedly. My glossy eyes pleaded with him to understand. "I'm not crazy, Liam. I'm not crazy - I'm not crazy - I'm not crazy -"

I had to admit that I must have looked rather unconvincing.

Liam crouched down beside me again. His features gentle, composed. He raised his arm and placed his hand on my damp face, wiping some of the tears and sweat off my cheeks and stroking back wet strings of hair from before my eyes. I breathed in deeply trying to calm myself, as even these little gestures of kindness was threatening to bring me to tears.

"Poor William. My poor little childe. So very confused."

I froze, the words hitting me like a cold gush of wind on the first proper winter-day. Panic caught me by the throat, choking the air out of my lungs. Inside my head I could hear the last bit of reason slam the door behind him and lock up the place so that the terrible nightmares lurking in the dark couldn't get out to wreck havoc. The problem was that the wanker had kind of forgotten to let me out first.

"Angelus?" I whispered, my eyes set in an expression of pure horror and disbelief.

A demonic half smile crept up his face that looked downright horrendous with the caring look he gave me, as if some part of Liam was still in there somewhere, trapped inside with that monster. His grabbed me by my hair and yanked my chin up, making me stare right into his eyes. They were blacker then night, his pupils lost in pools of darkness.

"So you figured it out at last. What took you so long? Too busy with brawling your eyes out, Will?"

"Liam - Where is Liam?" I stumbled, feeling smaller and more helpless by the minute.

"He ran with his tail between his yellow legs as soon as you told him about our weekly rendezvous. Nice guy, that Liam, never much of an open-minded fellow though. I guess you've scared him off with your little confession." He gave me a huge grin, exposing his teeth like a shark would, right before he took a bite out of your soddin legs. "May not be back for a seriously long time. Heck, who knows, perhaps this time you really blew it and he's moving out permanently, leaving me in charge." He raised his other hand and pinched my nose in an almost affectionate kind of way as if he was trying to charm a child. "That means that I'm gonna be in charge of you too, my dear little brother."

He tugged me up, pulling me by my nose, pinching hard enough to give me a nose bleed. He tossed me over the table. I hit it with a wheeze and my hips struck painfully on the sharp edge. I struggled to get back up, but the crushing weight of Angelus' body pushed down on my spine and the back of my neck as he forced me down with his knee and hands. The pressure on my chest pushed the air out of my lungs, and the flat wooden surface stung in my ribs.

I was trapped, unable to move or defend myself like a wriggling rain-worm strapped under a giant microscope for him to toy, probe or cut open. My heart quivered. Fear blinded my every thought and paralysed me as it had done so many (too many) times before when I was left at the mercy of this ruthless man. He leaned forward, his mouth brushing my neck, breathing on my skin with his hot breath.

"And so it ends." He whispered in my ears. He unbuckled his belt and zipped open his pants, crushing me with his weight. "Just like how it had once begun. Me, on top. You, at the bottom, helpless, weak, a rotten pile of misery. Face it, Will. You're mine. I broke you centuries ago. You don't think a little mind trip into whatever alternative reality you've created can stop me from claiming you?" He hissed, baring his teeth in a furious snarl. "Nightmares don't just stop haunting the weak because you've decided to pretend to be someone-else, someone stronger. Someone you're not. You cannot outsmart them or fight your way out. Sooner or later, they will get to you eventually. And when they do -"

He yanked down my pants and knickers, and a sudden cold struck my flesh as my arse became exposed.

"They gonna make sure that your life turns into a living hell."

I trembled out of shame and fear, the knowledge of what he was going to do to me wiping out every thread of resistance that I could have offered. I bit on my lower lip and pushed out ragged breaths between my sobs, praying that it would be all over soon.

You would think that after so long, it wouldn't hurt that much anymore, but it bloody well did.

He slammed his cock inside of me. I could feel it, hot and hard, tearing my innards as it pushed through with the vindictiveness of a punch in the stomach. Pain seared my body, dry as a bone as I was when he forced himself on me. My stomach banged on the table with every violent thrust that provided him pleasure and caused me agony, while shame crept up my tears stained cheeks.

I had lost everything. My brother. My will to fight. Perhaps even my ability to reason. No sense of self-worth was left in me. Everything was so fucked up, and there was no way out of this hell because it was real. It was reality. Angelus was right, I could pretend to more then I was, hide myself behind a brave façade, a different name perhaps, but eventually, the monsters would smell my fear and find me. Rip me apart. Tear me to pieces.

I was beaten, lost in darkness. My will to live gone. Nothing Angelus could do or say could ever affect me anymore. I just didn't seem to care what would happen to me after all this. I had hit rock bottom.

He used me as it pleased him. His cock growing harder with every demeaning act he forced me to perform on him, with every pain that visibly struck me as he tortured my flesh. It didn't matter anymore. I took everything he bestowed on me, letting him rape my body and poison my mind. I was no longer there. The lights were still on and the kettle was boiling over, but the owner had left the building, witnessing his own predicament though a window of blurry tears.

If it wasn't for what he had said just after he had pulled his cock out of my gob, I might had stayed in that cocoon state forever. Letting him do these horrible things to me, while I was condemned to spend the rest of my life behind padded walls.

"You know, Will. I look at you right now, and I'm amazed. I never would have thought that you would be given up so easily. This whole alternative reality thing has really driven you around the bend." He swapped away a pale string of cum dripping down the corner of my shivering lips while I kept staring up at him, meekly. "I'm not complaining here of course. That must be your best blowjob ever, especially if you include all the times you tried to bite off my nuts as some kind of revengeful foreplay. Although it might be that I kinda miss the old fangs scraping part." He traced his fingers over my face, and then pushed his thumb into my mouth, I closed my lips around it and suckled on it, my body reacting on impulse in a way that had been beaten into me a long, long time ago.

The monster smiled, Sylvester grinning on his Tweety-bird. "Such a good lad you are. So very obedient. Just like a fucking dog. And this the result of what? Three-four months of psycho-therapy under Dr Buffy's maternal care? Christ, I would love to see what a whole year under Dr Bitch's Spartan treatment would do to you." He giggled gleefully." There would be absolutely nothing left."

My eyes grew wide in frenzied horror, and Angelus stared back at me, cocking his head to one side and showing me that predatory grin again.

"You don't think Liam is going to leave you to Dr Summers are you? Don't be so naïve, Will! Not a chance after what had happened today! The poor guy thinks you've snapped out completely. Lost every bit of trust that he had in seeing you getting better under her care, although it wasn't much to begin with. It's just taking too long for him. Didn't he tell you that he came here a day earlier to speak to Dr Walsh? He's arranging to get you transferred into her ward. She's gonna get to you, little brother, like a hungry shark closing in on a piece of wriggling bait. I'm afraid it's bye- bye Dr Buffy and say hello to a bit of old fashioned treatment, something to flash the madness out of your mind, so to speak."

The message hit me like a bomb. Gone was the sense of numbness, of deadness that had allowed him to use me like a helpless, worthless being. Buffy, he was going to take her away from me. He was going to hand me over to that cold-hearted bitch-doctor who was going to lock me up into solitary confinement for the rest of my life. No chance of seeing Buffy again. No one left to give me comfort, no kindness or love to chase away the darkness that was threatening to engulf me.

No hope that everything would eventually turn out to be all right.

Angelus kept looking at me as if he was studying an amusing new species of bug, something vulnerable and revolting like a worm or a maggot, something easily squashed.

"Ah, don't look like that, Will. You know it's not my fault that it has to end like this. You only got yourself to blame here. If you've acted a bit saner around Liam, perhaps have acknowledge him as your brother, he wouldn't have ended up asking me to help him out. Honest Will, that tongue of yours isn't really connected to your brains, is it?"

A bitter anger rose inside of me and filled my mouth with the taste of copper. What right did he have to tear her away from me? Buffy's presence was the only thing that I had in my miserable existence that made me wanne live. Without her constant support and care, I would have slit my wrists months ago. He could not take her. I wouldn't let him. I forced myself to take control again, stop my wracking sobs and to draw in slow steady breaths, swallowing my fears.

"You can't do this." I said, voice trembling. "I need her. I need her more then anything else. She's the only one who keeps me sane around here."

"Well, looks like she's not doing a very good job. You know, I think I kinda agree with Liam. You've become beyond pathetic, Will. You used to be a predator, a killer, now look at you. You dropped all the way down the food-chain. Even grass can kick your ass now."

"I don't know - I don't understand why you can get here. You don't belong here. You're not real!" I said, louder now. "There was no Angelus. There had never been an Angelus. There are no such things as vampires."

"Oh no, you're right. And Steward and company aren't really demons, they're just special in a very freaky sort of way." He chuckled maliciously. "Tell you what, if Liam decides he rather doesn't come back from his vacation to the far boundaries of insanity, I'll help you out. Tell Giles that I'd rather have you transferred to Dr Walsh's care immediately. That pretty blond thing isn't good for you at all."

I let out a ragged roar, a primitive, maddened scream as white hot anger hit and blinded me from my fears and anxiety. I jumped up, faced my tormentor and drove my fist at him. I hit him hard, crunching my knuckles on his jaw and sent him reeling over, crashing down on the table. He snarled at me, his features twisting in pain, a rich trickle of blood down ran his chin. Although I was a bit amazed that I had pulled it off to hurt him, I didn't give him much time to recover from my lucky shot.

Snarling like a furious dog, I drove my elbow on the back of his neck, just before he could struggle back up. He screamed in pain, and slammed back on the wooden surface, cursing me for all that it was worth.

"You treacherous, poisonous childe!" he roared. "I'm gonna make you pay for this. I'm gonna make you pay for this dearly. You're never gonna see that little bitch of yours ever again!"

I swallowed hard. Wicked evil vampire or not, he really shouldn't have said that.

"You are not taking her away from me!" I hissed, as fury drove me to violence, a fury so scarlet and bright that I could hardly believe that it had been inside me for all these months. My hands grabbed something nearby, one of the chairs made out of massive heavy wood, and raised it above me head, ready to smash in his soddin skull. Pounding in on this monster's ribs, creaking his limps and pulverizing his flesh till he was no more then a bag of skin covering ruptured organs and broken bones. Images flashed through my mind, dark, violent and wicked. I've done this before. I had tortured and maimed and killed without remorse. Taken revenge on others for less then what I had to endure today. I could do it again.

I could kill him.

I could kill him before he murdered the last bit of humanity that I had left.

The chair came down before my eyes. There was a noise coming from my back, and then a scream. Hands wrapped around my wrists, strong hands that pulled me over and drove me off balance. The chair came down, smashing on the table and sending bits of wood flying through the air. The back of the chair broke off, and left a deep pale dent in the polished surface, barely an inch away from Angelus' head.

"NO!" I screamed, thrashing my legs and arms around like a professional nut when strong arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me away from him. "NO! You've got to let me kill him! He won't let me live! He won't let Liam live!"

"William!" Mike shouted. "Calm down!"

"He's a bloody monster! God! Can't you see that? A monster! A ruthless, murderous monster!"

"He's your brother, Will! Look at him! He's badly hurt! You have to calm down!"

I screamed as I went down. My arms were forced on my back, held sturdily in the hands of the broad orderly. I struggled, fought him with a strength that came from a mad mind, my eyes bulging and white rimmed. Although he had more then a good twenty pounds of muscle weight over my skinny form, my crazy strength tipped the scale and I managed to roll over to one side, slamming Mike against a corner. He hit it with his back, painfully.

"Dammit! Greg! Barry! Someone! I need help! He's losing it!"

Frantic footsteps followed, after which more hands reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders, pushing me down to the ground. My right cheek slammed on the tiled surface, muffling my screams. Someone straddled me from behind and sat on my legs. A knee was pushed in my back and a hand forced my head down. From the corners of my eyes, I could see one of the orderlies stick a syringe with a thin needle into a small bottle of clear liquid and fill it up, and my mind went completely crackers.

"NO!!! Don't stick that thing in me!! No!! Please! I'm telling you, I'm not crazy! I don't wanne get jabbed with that!! Stay away from me!!"

My pleading didn't help of course, why would it? Mike had my arms locked in his sturdy grip and my left sleeve was tucked up. I felt a cold hand on my upper arm before the needle went in. Warmth spread under my skin, numbing warmth that was almost comforting. I wheezed and sobbed, the strength fed by the rage and panic that had soared through me leaking out of every cramped and aching muscle, leaving me weak.

I didn't had the energy left to blink or close my eyes, so I just stared out, exhausted from emotional and physical abuse, Mike and another guy I didn't know by name squatting down bside to keep an eye on me while the others helped out Angelus. He wasn't much hurt, this monster wearing my brother's face, only a superficial cut ran from under his right eye to the hollow of his cheek. He looked as if he had just awakened from a bad dream, brushing off his face with trembling hands, his tan as pale as a sheet of paper. When he saw me there, curled up on the floor like a wounded rodent, his eyes grew wide in disbelief.

By the time he staggered over to me, his shoes dragging over the tiles, my vision had already blacked out and I had drifted off to someplace else.

 

SCENE 8

I welcomed the darkness that had come to me like a dear old pale. My aching body ached no more. My troubled mind finally found some peace. There was no pain, no distress, no memories. It was only William on standby mode, period.

But of course that happy moment wasn't meant to last.

When I woke up, I smelled something sour, something rancid enough to make me wanne puke my guts out, again that was. I was lying down on a soft surface, but my limps were not restrained as I had expected them to be. I moved them, frantically, struggling against invisible hands, which seemed to be everywhere, grabbing me by my wrists, my ankles, pushing me back on my chest. Unlike Mikester and company, they weren't quite that strong and I easily fought them off, pushing them aside, while yelling out in a loud, hectic voice coming from deep down my throat. Voices came, female and male, screaming and yelling at me, almost sounding as hectic as I did.

"Stop this Spike! You crazy vamp! Stop trashing around!"

"Xander! You've to hold him down, he has to finish this antidote to fully recover!"

"Yeah, as if I can hold him back! Look what he has done to Dawn! Why did that freaking chip of him didn't give his brains a good fry? Is it busted or anything?"

"He didn't mean to hurt her! The chip won't go off when he has no intention to harm anyone."

Although I dreaded it, I opened my eyes to see in what kind of hell I once again had ended up.

Alexander Harris and Willow Rosenberg were hovering around me like angry hornets. Harris had me pinned down by my wrists and sat on my legs, securing me on the bed. Red was balancing a plain mug with the hardly amusing print "An apple a day keeps the doctor away" in front of my face. It was half-filled with a gooey black fluid that smelled like the London sewers after an outbreak of stomach-flu. Red held me by my chin.

Just my luck. I get abused by a gay version of count Drac the Horny and my crazy feeble mind responded with a free trip to this self-created hellhole.

"Get off me!!" I yelled to the imaginary witch and whelp. I knew better then to acknowledge that they were really there. Took me bloody well three months of therapy to get this sorted out and I wasn't gonna make all that hard work go wasted just this easily. "Sod off! I don't wanne have anything to do with you! You're not real!!"

Harris looked at me as if I had just grown an extra head. "Will, what is he rambling about?"

"It's the poison talking. Keep him steady. I'm gonna try again."

Red grabbed my cheeks between her fingers and thumb and forced my mouth open. She brought the mug to my lips and the foul liquid was close enough to send stench waves up my nostrils. I shook my head and whimpered rather pathetically.

"Don't worry Spike. You'll get better as soon as you drink this all up. I'm sorry that it smells so yucky, but I really didn't have to time to add a strawberry flavour to it. Just - try to swallow it up in one good gulp."

She poured it into me, pinching my nose shut so I wouldn't mind the horrible taste too much. It didn't help though, a couple of mouthful of whatever had drowned in that brew and I started retching. I must had done it before, because my black T- shirt was all covered by it, so were the plain white sheets on the bed. Which explained the sour stench that my nose picked up. I gagged some more, my stomach objecting to the idea that I had been lying in my own filth. I struggled free from Harris' grip, and slapped the fancy novelty mug out of the witch's hands. It landed on the sheets and rolled off the bed, spreading a black stain over the cloth and ruining the carpet.

"Spike! You crazy idiot!" Harris snapped. "That's the antidote you've just wasted! Any idea how long it took to get this for you?"

"I don't wanne have your soddin stinkin antidote!" I yelled, rolling my eyes at this very annoying delusion. "You're trying to keep me here, aren't you? You're trying to keep me here so you could all continue to point and laugh at the useless vampire with the government chip in his head. The sad excuse of a demon that hops along with the Slayer like a love sick horny toad."

"Glad you can admit that you're useless and a toad, but we are not doing any of those things. We were trying to save you from demon poisoning."

"You're not real, Harris. And Red here is not real either. This is all in my mind. I'm sick. I need - I need Buffy. She will make me better. She - She always does."

"Buffy is downstairs, taking care of Dawn." Willow said. The witch was trying to mob up whatever was left of the potion with a Kleenex tissue, but was failing miserably since most of it was already soaked into the cloth. "It's probably better for you not to see her right now. She's kinda upset, because - " The witch hesitated for a moment.

"You hurt Dawn, Spike." Harris explained. "You shoved her away when she saw you stirring in your sleep and tried to help. She landed rather badly." He paused for a moment, eying at me with a tinge of anger showing on his face. "You might have broken her wrist with your wicked demony strength here. So yeah, Buff was really upset and might break some bones of yours if you happened to ask for her right now. So I wouldn't advise you to call her."

I blinked my eyes at the two of them, feeling a pang of guilt welt up as the words sunk in. Little Bit. I've hurt Little Bit. The one person in this world that I had sworn to protect with my own life. How could I have done this to her? She had only tried to help me. Probably wanted to wake me up from that horrible nightmare I was having. The institution, Liam and Buffy, they were keeping me there, away from her.

Keeping me grounded in reality.

My mind straightened up, and I sucked in a deep breath of air. Although there was a comfy warm blanket draped around my shoulders, I was horribly cold and suddenly I shivered at the thought of actually being inside this clinically dead body. Spike the vampire was nothing more but a walking - wise creaking corpse.

This wasn't right. This wasn't real. I was losing it again. Fleeing into this imaginary world of mine, the one with all the monsters from which one had escaped and had turned my real life and that of my brother's into a soddin nightmare. I had once believed in all of this, my self- created fantasy where I could hide and pretend to be more then William ever was, but I could no longer afford to keep that up.

I can't keep running back into this place, or it will swallow me whole. Angelus was the perfect example of one of these imaginary playmates gone dangerous. Dawn, whatever compassion I felt for that little girl, she wasn't a real person. I could hurt her, even kill her and no-one would have really died. It was just all in my head.

And I wanted to get it out.

"It's alright Spike." Red tried, being the most adorable little witch my sickly mind had ever created. "Dawn is not angry at you. She knew you didn't do it on purpose. Don't blame yourself."

I looked at her, blankly, trying to allow her words to sink in without letting it affect me on any emotional level. To my own amazement, I succeeded. I didn't feel bad about hurting Little Bit. I didn't really feel anything at all.

Lifting my chin, I stared up at Harris with probably a very mad grin plastered on my face.

"I don't care what happened to her. She isn't a real person anyway. I made her all up, I did."

Harris frowned and looked down at me.

"I - I don't want to be crazy anymore. And I don't want to keep talking to you both. Soon I will wake up and find myself having a crackers conversation with a padded wall." I giggled hoarsely, giddy little insects tickling up and down my throat. "Bloody hell, I have no soddin idea why I torment myself like this. Harris, you must be one of the most aggravating delusions ever made up by a nut to keep himself busy. I must have been bored out of my brains while I was off to keep you wandering around to annoy the hell out of me."

The anger that had been showing previously melted off his face, and for some funny reason, the whelp looked quite concerned.

You're delusional, Spike." He stated, turning towards the witch. "He's delusional. He's as high as a kite. Will, I don't think he got enough of the antidote inside to work off the poison."

"He didn't even finished half of it." Red said, eying at me worryingly. I returned her gaze with another gleeful little giggle and started bopping my head up and down the cushions. "And from the part that we did got into him, isn't much left either." She cleaned some of the black stuff dribbling down my chin. I gave her a huge, wide-eyed grin, and she shivered. "That toxin, it's nibbling away his mind. Look at him. You can hardly call that normal behaviour, even for Spike."

I burst into laughter, loud and hollow, with no real glee to make it sound less scary. I was hurting inside, I was breaking to pieces, but I couldn't tell them what was going on, why I didn't wanne play this little game I've started anymore. What use would it be to explain things to a bunch of made- up people anyway?

Red's facial expression went from concerned to plain terror.

"I have a look in the kettle. See if I can scrape out some last burnt bits from the bottom. Otherwise, it's back to the kashma'nik in the cellar and try to get some more juice out of it to remake the potion. Could take a while though, and I don't think Spike is going to just lie there and wait."

"I kind off expect him to go bunching off the walls as soon as I let go." Harris opted, his voice sounded ridiculously serious, making me all giddy again. "We better strap him down with something till he gets his mind straight."

Red was hesitating; I bet she felt sorry for me. She always did. Even that time when I couldn't bite her after the government soldier boys had me chipped, she felt sorry for me that I was all down about it, just ignore the fact that I had really wanted to eat her. Now, so much sympathy and selflessness coming from one person. That is just surreal.

"Do we have to? It seems kind off cruel. Maybe you can hold him down for a while and - "

"Will! Look at him. Then go down-stairs and take a look at Dawn's arm. You want this potential dangerous vampire go rampant on any of us again?"

"He can't really hurt us, unless he doesn't really mean to." Willow frowned, visibly confused.

"Which is the only fact that keeps me from staking him right now." Harris said, voice dripping of sarcasm. "Look, I can't hold him for much longer, Will. I may look like a handsome young stud in the prime of his life with an impressive amount of muscle built up by hard labour, but I'm still human. Spike is not. If he accidentally wants to snap off my arm to get free with no real intention in doing so, I can do zippo about it but perhaps only scream in great agony. We have to tie him down."

I decided I had enough of the whelp's japing already, and proved his point by launching myself at him. Although my wrists were still pinned down above my head, my arms weren't stretched enough to restrain too much of my movements with my upper body. Harris backed up, fear lightening up in his eyes. Somehow he still managed to keep his grip on my wrists. I buckled my legs and hips, trying to toss him off, but he was a bit overweight and I wasn't really trying too hard. I bounced my hips up and down the bed a couple of times, making it squeak like a whole nest of soddin mice.

"Get something to tie him down!" He yelled. "Get something now!"

I giggled and screamed when Red came back together with Tara, and both witches started to tie me down to the iron-framed bed. They used sets of heavy chains, the type to chain up expensive motorcycles to streetlights, and Tara did something to it, added some kind of binding spell. I felt raw energy soaring though the rattling chains, a tension in the air that wrapped itself around my wrists and ankles. If it had been hard for me to get myself Houdinied out of these restrains before, the addition of her magic made it almost impossible.

That was when I really started to panic.

I had kept myself relatively quite with Harris, but that was because I wasn't expecting them to be able to keep me here for long. I figured I would wake up pretty soon, as long as I refused to drink that crazy juice that Red's offering me, I wouldn't get lost in here. But now, with something as physical and as present as steel and magic holding me down, I wasn't sure about that anymore.

"You can't do this to me!" I pleaded, trying to sound as sane as possible. "You can't keep me here! I don't want to be here. This was supposed to be all in my head. Created by my wonky brains to make me feel all better, but I feel awful." I gazed back at both witches, and I saw pity in their cute but troubled faces. "Please, let me go. I won't trouble anyone. I just wanne go back to my world and see Buffy. I need her. She's the only one who can make me sane again. You can keep this soddin reality that I've made. It's all yours."

Red shook her head and pulled the blankets over my shoulders, tugging me in like I was somekind of wounded fury animal that needed maternal care. Tara looked at me with very sad eyes. Tara was a kind girl and had gone through a lot. I remembered that she had some trouble with her family. They didn't really like her and she had spent most of her life worrying about how wicked she must be to have her own family treat her like that.

I knew how much that must have tormented her.

"Xander, can you please keep an eye on him?" She asked. "It's just that I've never done this spell before. I don't want him to get hurt or anything."

"Right." Harris said, inspecting the restrains. "Got it. One hourly checks on Spike, consider it done."

Tara turned away and left the room with Willow, going down-stairs to the kitchen to scrape out the kettle, leaving me alone with the whelp. I was close to brawling my eyes out, but I swallowed hard to keep the tears from falling, because I just didn't want to give the bloody twat the satisfaction of seeing me cry, ever. He looked at me without saying a word, a strange expression on his face that I couldn't quite place. Then he walked up to the door, ready to leave.

"Spike." He said unexpectedly, and turned around. "I'm sorry. I 'm sorry that I had to do this. But you really shouldn't go back to where ever you were. That place wasn't real." He sighed. "Look, just get better, okay? Things are bad enough already without us having to worry about you."

He switched off the lights. With the heavy brown curtains drawn closed, the room was left in a dim hazy. I stared at the ceiling for a while, listening to the sounds rising up from downstairs, my eyes leaking tears.

---

ACT 8: Back from hell and here again, hell wasn't such a bad place after all.

 

SCENE 1

I must have dozed off for a while, because the bedroom was dark when I opened my eyes again, and the murmurs coming from downstairs had quieted down. I blinked a couple of times, clearing the stickiness out of my eyes. I would have given them a good rubbing if it wasn't for the inconvenient set of chains holding my wrists. I bald my hands into fists and tugged on them. The chains rattled, but didn't give. Gathering more strength, I gave another tug, hard and violent enough to make bits of my skin that got caught between the links cut open. I ignored the pain. After all, I was used to hell of a lot worse, but the fact that I couldn't free myself out of my restrains worried me. If I wasn't trippin already, I would have sworn that they grew tighter every time I tried to break them. And then the notion slipped back into my mind.

Tara had done a spell on them. A binding spell. No wonder they could keep me down.

Whimpering in distress, I rocked back and forth, jerking on the steel restrains relentlessly, ignoring the pressure that built up around my wrists and ankles as I continued to trigger the spell. The bed shook and squeaked under my efforts. Panic was compelling me to do the lesser smart thing. The links started to cut into my flesh, and the pain increased till it was agonizing enough to bring tears into my eyes.

I heard footsteps. Someone came up the hallway and a small strip of light appeared underneath the door.

"Spike? Are you still awake?" A female voice asked. The door swung open and Tara stood in the doorway, her curved frame blocking the harsh light flooding in from down the corridor, but the remaining beams that came in still made me squint. She moved into the darkened bedroom and sought to switch on the lights, but I whimpered softly in protest, while I continued to rock the bed, making it sound as if a horny motel couple were making out in it. Tara gave me worried scowl, then closed the door and drew a chair to sit beside me.

"What's the matter? Are -Are you hurt?" She asked. I noticed that she wasn't quite at ease, sitting here in the dark with a madman re-acting a scene from "The Exorcist" in front of her eyes. Perhaps I should have let her switch on the lights, didn't want to give the easily frightened witch the wiggens. She was nice enough.

"Uhuh." I managed to say, and God help me, there was that scary little giggly thing again, ripping through my throat like an itchy mouse crawling its way out.

The witch gave me a long glance, it was an amusing mix of fear and pity and concern. Her lazy eyelids darted over to my hands, but her sight in the dark was of course very poor with her being human and all. She couldn't see that they were bleeding, and as she reached out and dabbed her slender fingers in sticky blood, she pulled back faster then when she would have when dealing with a snarling dog.

"S-Spike! Y-You a-are b-bleeding." She stuttered, a weakness she only showed when she was very upset and it wouldn't have normally bothered me at all, but at this particular moment, for some idiot reason, it sounded really funny and my soft giggling became a crazy and mean laughter, the kind you hear coming from bullies after they have beaten the crap out of you and have gotten away with your lunch money. I grinned a toothy smile at her, mocking cheer all plastered on my face, while I buckled my pelvis in a very obscene way. Tara looked at me with plain horror in her eyes.

Good work Will, scare the crap out of the cuddly lady warlock, why don't ye? Why don't you go outside and mug a couple of old grannies as well? Toss a baby-buggy on the road while you're on it.

"I-I am s-sorry." She whispered softly. "I s-should have checked the spell before I put it on you. H-here let me help." She reached out her hands and planted them on my wrists. I flinched away from her touch (Yep, that's the kind of bad-ass hardy vampire I was) but there wasn't much vacant space to move as the short chains won't allow me to. Tara closed her eyes and muttered something below her breath, her bosom rising and falling, straining the silk fabric of her emerald green dress. A pentacle dangling around her neck, a polished piece of alabaster crystal, framed in a pentagram made out of silver, suddenly lightened up and illuminated her face in a pale shade of blue. I whimpered, the daft coward that I was, as I felt the power that she had gathered with her spell flow out of her fingertips and damp palms, and into the steel restrains that had wrapped into my flesh like a python mangling its prey. The energy felt warm, clashing with the cold stinging sensation that had been there before the witch had offered me some relief from her magic. There was the sound of links moving over one another, and the agonizing pressure on my wrists declined, ebbing away till there was only a dull throbbing pain left. I swallowed and tried to move my hands and wriggle my fingers. They still worked, which was a relief because I had expected that they had gone black and stale by now. Tara walked over to the end of the bed and did the same to the chains that held my ankles. At the end of her private magic session, I felt a much happier patient.

"I broke the binding spells on the chains." She explained, her long, bailey coloured hair dangling in front of her shy eyes. "They won't hurt you anymore. Try to get some rest without slipping into unconsciousness."

All the crazy giddiness that had roamed inside of me like a jolly merry-go- round had gone away and was replaced by a feeling of utter misery and loneliness. I wished that she would stay and talk to me, so I won't feel so very lost. So I tried to form words with my mouth and tongue for a change rather then to continue my communication with her in one-syllable animal sounds.

"Don't go." I pleaded, my mouth dry and tasting vile, probably from that rancid stuff Red had tried to shove down my throat. "I don't want to be alone."

Tara had been standing up looking down at me, but as my words sank into her, she gave me a sweet reassuring smile and sat back into the chair next to the bed. "You're not alone, Spike. We're here for you. Willow is remaking the serum for the demon poison in your blood as we speak. You'll be all right."

"Not all right." I muttered, and awful feeling sunk into my stomach. "She doesn't know that this isn't real. I'm not supposed to be here."

Tara looked at me with concern and puzzlement written on her face. "Relax Spike. It's not how you think it is. Dawn told us about your um - experiences when you were away, and I know that they must seem very real to you, but they aren't. This -" She made a gesture with her hand. "Is real. And we are real."

"Yeah." I said, my throat constricting as I spoke. "Right. I'm a century old vampire with a government chip in my head, you're a young lesbian wicca, and Buffy is the Slayer of evil nasties. Sounds real realistic. More so even then me being a very severe mental head case drooling my life away in an institution while en-passant spinning you whole lot up out of my badly wired neurons."

"I know it sounds strange." Tara tried. "I wouldn't have believed it myself if I wasn't who I was. But I'm very certain about who I am, Spike. I am a witch. A real one with real powers. And -And I've seen things together with you guys, faced up to monsters and have been through enough to belief in myself. I know you can do that too."

Something sharp and icy stabbed me there in my dead heart. "I don't know who I am any more." I whispered hoarsely. "You don't know how it was, luv. I've been there, back in the real world for three longs months. I was in a place where the people continuously told me that I was sick and that I was delusional, but that they would be there to help me to recover. I didn't like to be locked up like a bloody animal in a fancy white cage, the hell I did. But, God, I was almost normal there! I had a name and I still had family. I was cared for. And- and even though I was wasting away behind the padded walls, I knew it would get better. I knew that there was a chance that I would eventually get out. I had hope that one day, the docs would let me go home and I would walk out of there with the sun on my face." I paused and swallowed, gazing at the witch with hazy eyes. "But here, I don't have such a chance. I don't have any hope. If I stay here, I will be stuck in the darkness forever. Alone."

I looked away from her with once again the sting of tears behind my eyes. A gentle, warm hand wrapped around my own, and gave me a comforting squeeze.

"You're not alone, Spike. You're one of the Scoobies. A friend. After all that we have been through together, we won't let you down."

"A friend?" I asked, fluttering my eyes in disbelief. "Is that what I am to you Scoobs? Funny thing." I snorted. "I thought you all hated my guts. Evil wicked thing without a soul aren't even considered a person in Buffy's or Harris' point of view."

"Oh, no! We don't hate you." She clarified rather hastily. "And-And Buffy certainly doesn't hate you. Xander might sometimes be upset about some weird stuff you say or do, but generally, we do consider you one of us now."

"Speaking of whom, where is she?"

Tara furrowed her brows a little, and said. "You mean Buffy? Um- she is still downstairs with Dawn. And she was helping Willow out to get some more serum out of the demon. She's really trying to help you -"

"Why didn't she come up to see me?"

Tara averted her eyes and even in the dark I could see the colour on her cheeks change. The shy wicca was never much of a liar. "She-She didn't want to -um leave the demon -um unguarded?"

Even in my distress, I managed to get a bit annoyed with her. "Seriously luv, if you're trying to make up an excuse, try not to raise your voice at the end of the sentence, it kinda gives away that you're lying."

"Spike, I didn't want to lie to you. But with Buffy, things are complicated."

"Now that's not much of an newsflash here."

"She didn't want to see you." She puffed out the words in one long sigh, and flinched her gaze away from my eyes so she won't be able to see my heart breaking into pieces. Clever girl.

"Have - have I done something to upset her?" I managed to ask rather moronically naive. My voice trembled while inwardly, I tried to pick up to shards and glue it back together into something that came close to the original to at least provide me with some courage. "Was it Dawn? I-I didn't mean to hurt her. I really didn't."

"Oh no! It isn't that. It's - She doesn't want anybody to know about you and her."

My heart was struck by a soddin earthquake and all the pieces fell apart again even before the glue had time to settle. She didn't want her friends to know about us. That's why she kept herself away from me. She was afraid that I would spill the beans to the Scoobs once I set my crazy eyes on her. My love for her flooding over my lunatic tongue before she could do anything to stop me from jabbering it out to her friends. She didn't want them to be disgusted with her. Perhaps, they won't even be able to forgive her, after all, sleeping with an evil soulless thing had to be one of the most horrific crimes a Do-Goodie Goodie Slayer could indulge into, even when it happened to be that the wicked nasty had real feelings for her and tried to do good.

I eyed at Tara, a tinge of anger rising up from the vastness of misery that threatened to sink my mind. "You already know about us. She told you, didn't she? That's why you're the only one checking out on me, while the others have to stay downstairs."

The witch nodded uncomfortably, a pang of guilt warping her face.

"Oh that's rich!" I blurted out in a loud voice, startling the wicca like a frail deer. "That's just rich! So now what? Did she ask you to perform another spell on me? One to get my tongue stuck to my nose so I won't be able to talk while I'm hallucinating? Why doesn't she just show up herself with a large frying pan and whack me on the head with it? A bit of kiddie comical relief on my behalf wouldn't even break me into a sweat, considering all the crap I've been through the last couple of months."

"Don't be so angry at her. She does care about you. I mean, she went to see me and asked if I could summon the gaskoelkastmaniaks -"

"It's glarghk guhl kashma'nik" I corrected. Bloody hell, even the witches were this badly educated. How were they supposed to fight these things if they didn't even get the pronunciation of their names right? "And you actually got it summoned?" I added sarcastically. "Hell, that's like calling out for your cat unfortunately named SteelRod and not getting a heavy biker bloke with a beard and a "I love mother" tattoo to knock at the door. Seriously, you're lucky, luv. You could have summoned any other, much nastier creature from the Never Never."

"I read its name right out of the books." Tara defended herself. "I know I'm bad with names. I didn't want to make any horrible mistakes. The kind that gets people killed."

We talked somewhat longer, with the wicca trying to persuade me that Buffy wasn't heartless and had done everything to get me fixed up after the demon poisoning. Everything, except for coming to see me and looking me straight into the eyes that was. It made me feel bitter, and it made me realize that she never would accept me for what I was. I was a vampire here, and she was the slayer. It was a relationship doomed to fail miserably, at least if I could dare to call whatever thing we had a real bond, rather then a series of mindless and lustful shagging appointments. They could had made a bloody sitcom out of the concept and I would have watched and laughed about it if it wasn't for the fact that it bloody well was happening to me.

After a long and exhausting talk, Tara left to check on Red again, helping her to stir the cauldron so to speak. She told me for the last time not to worry and not to hold a grudge against the Slayer for not turning up at my sickbed, which I snorted away with some colourful commentary. Joking my way around it as I was used to do. But inside, I felt like hell.

Tara did manage though to put my mind back on the straight path, no more pathetic lunatic acts for William here, although there was still enough distress lingering at the back of my mind to swallow me whole. When the wicca opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, a sickening smell, a stench that you would get when something crawled inside the oven and died there, rose up from the kitchen downstairs and turned my stomach. The second serving of crazy juice, I presumed, was on the menu.

I was left alone in the dark after Tara was gone. Alone with my train of thoughts that had much difficulty to stay rational. I can't let them do this. I can't stay here. I argued, although the bed felt really soft and comfortably warm, and the darkness was kind of comforting too, shielding me from everything that could do me any harm. What difference does it make, the less hardy part of me quarrelled, if you're strapped down to a bed here, in this soddin William-verse where you're so-called "friends" treat you like a loon, or that you're tied down in a bed in the loony-bin?

Either way, you're not really going anywhere anytime soon.

I closed my eyes for a sec, feeling another giggle rising up, but this time, it wasn't madness that drove me to it, rather the realization of the total absurdity of it all. Although the thought of giving up was very tempting, there was a part of me, the sane William part of me I supposed, that didn't quite want to agree with the lazy-me.

I couldn't stay here. There was a difference between this and the other world, which had nothing to do with how much pain or bliss either one of them had to offer. There was something far more important that tipped the scale. A little thing called reality.

I had lost five years of my life already. Five years spent in a world that wasn't real, building up relationships that weren't there, hating people in conflicts that were all just made up. Killing, fighting, scheming. Laughing, loving and crying about nothing, emotions spun out of thin air. Caring about a girl who wasn't who I thought she was, letting her hurt and torment me, while in the reality I had left behind, she had been there all the time, waiting for me to return out of La La land.

I was sick and tired of wasting my life away. I wanted to live again. Really live. I wanted to feel the sun beating down on my face till my nose started to peel, and I wanted to see her smile at me. That enchanting toothy smile that told me that she was glad to see me instead of being repulsed. Back in reality, Dr Buffy Summers was waiting for this poor lost patient, and I was willing to fight my way out of this to get back to her.

The chains rattled as I pulled on them, twisting the links while I was testing for weaknesses. With a hardy tug, the restrains around my left wrist snapped, followed briefly by the ones wrapped around my right wrist. The shackles dropped on the carpet with a heavy clunk, and I checked the damage I had done to myself in my less lucid state; there were pretty imprints in my skin and the parts that had been just underneath the steel links were red and raw, with a couple of scratched drawing a bit of blood, but the wounds were already starting to close.

I guessed that there were also upsides in being a vampire.

The shackles around my ankles were even easier to break, since I had much more strength in my legs then in my arms. Getting up proved to be a bigger challenge. One step out of the bed and everything in the soddin room started to sway. I grabbed a bedpost and tried to steady myself before I tripped and caused enough racket to get the Scoobs scuttling up the stairs to check things out. My legs felt as if they were made out of rubber, and although I didn't though it was possible for a vampire to run a fever, I felt flushed.

It must be the poison, I reasoned for as far my swirling brains allowed me to. It's triggering some kind of immune reaction in my body. Must be wickedy strong to even be able to get a dead one like mine up and running this determinedly.

Or, a small voice in the back of my head explained, this could be a crystal clear clue given to you from who ever is up there and running this puppet show that you're really trippin on your own sick brain juices here. Seriously, a dead person suffering from flu, could it even be more ridiculous?

I shook my head feverishly (punning unintended here) to get rid of all the inner voices driving me crackers, and headed for the vanity in the corner of the room (This was Joyce's bedroom, I recalled. I saw pictures of little Buffy with happy mom and happy dad smiling in the camera.) and snatched my trench coat off the surface, dragging a variety of tiny knickknacks down with it as though I had tried to perform a very clumsy magic trick.

Thank God for sound isolating carpets.

I stooped down to pick them up, containers with day - night and afternoon crèmes, a handful of lipsticks in rainbow colours and a couple of mouldy combs. I didn't want to leave Joyce's bedroom in a bloody mess. Buffy would be upset. But the minute my head bobbed down, a massive headache, solid and hard as a brick wall, hit me and my temples started pounding in a nauseating rhythm. I took a deep unnecessary breath and flung my head over my shoulders.

This was going to be hard.

I cleaned up as much as I could without having to steam clean the carpet from my stomach juices. There was a bottle of blood red nail polish that had lost most of it contents on the wax-polished tabletop, but I had it tidied up with a Kleenex tissue and a bit of spit (Don't look so disgusted, you know I have done worse). It left a bit of a pink haze there, but I figured you wouldn't see it that much against the dark oak. Hell, even I had trouble finding the stain, let alone Buffy with her humanly impaired googly eyes. I was sure she wouldn't notice a thing.

Still, I shoved her mom's photo over the spot, just in case the sun tend to highlight the furniture in an odd angle, you never know.

I headed for the window, opened it and climbed out of the room and onto the roof. I knew a tree just outside of Buffy's room that was tall enough for me to reach from up here. I also happened to know that it was just sturdy enough to support my skinny vampire ass. Not that I'm some sort of pathological stalker of course. Hell no. Just happened to be very familiar with the Summers family resident. Besides, Angel was worse.

I came by Buffy's bedroom-window as I scuttled over the roof, and noticed that the curtains were drawn and a light was burning inside. Stooping over and crawling on my hands and knees, I managed to pass her window unnoticed without plummeting off the roof and breaking my neck. I reached out and grabbed an old branch, twisted and ravaged by too frequent use. I wrapped my hands around it, pushed myself off using the drainpipe and flung my legs over to the base of the thick branch, swinging them over it. I had almost managed to get myself into a comfy sitting position when I heard voices coming from the Slayer's bedroom.

"It isn't fair!" A door slammed shut and I didn't even have to hear more to know that it was Dawn. "Why can't I go to mom's room to see him? You know he didn't mean to hurt me. Otherwise the chip would have gone off."

"Dawn! Spike can be dangerous right now. I don't care how much you think of him as a cuddly demon-friend, but he is and stays a vampire! You heard Willow. We don't know what that poison is doing with his mind. What if he snaps and the chip cannot stop him any longer? Do I have to offer my little sister to him to see if he recognizes you and starts sobbing for forgiveness? It doesn't work that way with demons."

I closed my eyes and breathed out an annoyed sigh as I overheard her lecturing on Little Bit. Great, cruel words coming from the mouth of the Bitchy Slayer, another world of hurt had just opened up to me.

"How can you say such things about Spike? He saved you from that kuleriak demon! If it wasn't for him, it would have been you lying there!"

"It's glarghk guhl kashma'nik Bit." I whispered below my breath, agitated. Bloody hell. Could at least one of them get it right for a change?

"I didn't ask him to get in the way." Buffy said, rather coldheartedly. "I could have killed that thing and strolled back home before midnight. But oh no, the big Bad had to show up and play the chivalry knight again. Demons of the world beware, it's Spike in a trench coat. It would have been cool if it wasn't for the fact that he was so incredibly clumsy in saving the lady in distress and ended up needing to be saved himself."

Ough, that was really below the belt. Although I knew she sometimes didn't much appreciate my help, I had thought that at least most of the times I had done some good for her. But now, she was saying that I was more of a burden to her then anything else! I clenched my hands around the tree trunk, splitting bark as I drove my fingers into it. My ears picked up a grinding noise and I realized that it was me, grating my teeth.

"I can't believe that you're saying this." Dawn uttered, her voice shaky. "That is just mean. You wouldn't react like this if it was Willow or Xander who got hurt. Or me."

"That's because Spike is a demon." She said, as if that notion alone could explain everything. "Believe me Dawn, he can take care of himself. He has a whole century of practice to pass the test. As soon as we give him the antidote, he will be better in no time. Meanwhile, don't get near him!"

I had heard enough. Crazy hallucinated crush on an imaginary girl or not, her words still made me angry. And it bloody hurt. I tightened my jaw, and started climbing down the soddin tree, making as little fuss as possible, not to draw attention from the Scoobs inside. I jumped down the last few feet and landed with my boots on the lawn, swaying a little on my feet as the headache rewarded my efforts with a pang of nausea.

Buffy's bedroom faced the back garden, once a luscious place of greenery with all sorts of fancy flowers and scrubs, now a severely overgrown wilderness with grass that reached up to knees and an a collection of exotic looking weed flourishing in the patches where once the rosebushes had grown. Buffy wasn't much of a gardener, and ever since Joyce died, no- one had the time nor the patience to keep it from turning into a rainforest. I wouldn't be surprised to trip over a Bengal tiger in here. The lawn was sure thick enough to hide one.

I gazed back into the house. There was a porch made out of white woodwork that led into the kitchen, since the entire ground floor of Buffy's house was raised a few feet above the ground. The large, murky windows (They really needed a good cleaning. Buffy was sloppy again.) provided a view inside, and I saw both witches standing in front of the kitchen counter; Tara looking into a spell book and muttering something inaudible while Red was crushing a bunch of unidentifiable objects in a bowl using a stone pestle. Somewhere at the back, a pot was boiling over with some black bubbly stuff, probably the antidote in making. It hissed clouds of steam once it dripped on the hot cooker.

I turned my back on all that, and waded down the lawn. Tall grass brushed my legs and dew collected on my boots as I fled out of the garden, determined to leave the Scoobs and the Slayer for what they were and find my way out of this soddin hallucination.

---

 

ACT 8  Part 2: No more mind-games. No more mind.

 

 

SCENE 2

 

“Look Dawn, this isn’t a discussion!” Buffy shouted. “You’re staying away from him till he’s no longer crazy. Or less crazy.” She hesitated. “And I want you to go to bed now. It’s four in the morning on a Wednesday, you have classes tomorrow!”

 

She stood there in her bedroom facing an angry Dawn, her arms folded across her chest, dark half moon rims under her eyes. God, she thought, it’s really four o’clock in the morning already. She had a shift at the Double Meat starting at eight, Dawn had to get up at seven and get a decent breakfast before she went off to school, the laundry needed to be done, and the windows would certainly benefit from a good cleaning. Buffy let go of a deep, tired sigh and wished she could catch up with a couple hours of sleep before the entire night was over and the glamorous tasks of keeping the Summers household running would be pressuring on her shoulders once again when the morning came, but there was no such luck of course.

 

“Why are you always yelling at me like that!” Dawn lamented. “I’m a teenager! I’m not a kid anymore!” She swallowed hard before getting out the heavy artillery. “You can’t boss me around like you’re mom or anything! Mom was always there for me and she listened to me. You never listen and you’re never here when I need you!”

 

Before Buffy could say anything to counter her little sister’s emotional nuclear bombing, Dawn fled out of the room, crying as she went, slamming the door shut with so much anger that it made the porcelain ballerina that Buffy got for her eight birthday, tipple off the book shelf. Buffy caught the small ornament, Slayer speed kicking in on reflex, and she put it back on its place, her mind distracted.

 

Things had been hard for her ever since she came back from the dead. Her mother wasn’t there anymore for her to turn to when things got out of hand and the troubles in her life had sometimes become too much for her to bear; not so much the vampires and the monsters had created most of her problems, but everyday stuff like paying the electricity bills, getting the leak in the roof fixed before winter and making sure to put out the garbage on Thursday mornings before she had to stock up the trash and smell it rot for the rest of the week. Buffy knew that it was puny, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself right now. Dawn had her incredibly unreasonable big sister to go to when she needed someone to yell at, but to whom could the big sister go with all of her truckloads of cropped up frustrations?

 

Buffy let out an irritated groan and sat down on her bed, her hands entangled in her locks as she brushed them away from her forehead. Why was everyone expecting her to be strong enough to face up against everything what this world had to throw at her? Sure, she was the Slayer, and if trouble came in the shape of an evil demon nasty, she knew how to do her slaying duties rather well, but when it came to dealing with things like keeping up a mindless job in order to pay the bills, bringing up a difficult teenage sister and dealing with the troubles of her friends like magic addictions and relationships in ruins, she was pretty sure that she wasn’t made to be able to absorb and counteract all of this misery of grownup life. If this was what she had to look out to for the next couple of forty, fifty years, she would rather go down fighting against an army of nightmare creatures. Trying to get the second mortgage on the house paid off must be worse.

 

She had just burrowed her face in the comforting darkness of her hands when a persistent knock on her bedroom door startled her.

 

“Buffy?” Xander asked, hesitatingly.

 

“Come on in. It’s not locked.”

 

The door swung open and Xander walked in, his expression grim.

 

“Buff, Spike went missing. Tara found out he isn’t in your mom’s bedroom anymore.”

 

“Oh.” She shook her head as if she wasn’t sure that she had heard this right. “But – How – I thought Tara –”

 

“She lifted the spell on his restrains. I guess afterwards, the chains were as effective as bundles of lose lint in keeping him strapped down. She was quite upset about it after she found out he was gone, but it was of course none of her fault. It would have surprised me if Spike didn’t try to trick her to scheme his way out.”

 

There was this feeling of a rusty anvil sinking into her stomach as the message came clear to her. He – He walked out? In that state of mind? By his own? What did he want to do, get himself dusted!? Buffy’s tired mind spun vivid pictures of a whole range of possibilities how Spike could get himself killed while he was halfway off to LaLa land. She had been there the first few minutes after he woke up; he was trashing around with his arms and legs trembling like an epileptic patient, screaming his lungs out. A little demonstration of any of that, and all the friendly demons in the neighbourhood would know that the blond vampire who had been a very effective ally to the Slayer had lost it completely and he would become an easy target.

 

“We have to find him.” She gazed up at her friend, a determined look in her eyes and a tinge of anxiety in her voice as she spoke. “He’s too weak to defend himself right now. If he walks into some old demony pals of his holding a grudge, he’ll be dust before you can even say the word - vendetta -.”

 

Xander nodded. “He took his duster with him. I guess that means he still had some bits of his brain functioning and isn’t completely gone into the alternative reality thing yet. We have the best chance in finding him when we go look in the cemetery and his crypt.”

 

“Good suggestion.” Buffy opted. She suddenly didn’t feel that sleepy anymore, her heart was pounding and a wave of panic was compelling her to do something about the grim situation, make her react fast and effectively. “You guys didn’t tell Dawn about this?”

 

“Definitely not. She doesn’t know. After that quite and peaceful conversation that you two had, she went to her room and locked herself in.”

 

“Well, at least she did what I asked her to do.” Buffy sighed. She got up from her bed and started heading for the door. Xander followed her in hasty steps. “Don’t tell her. I don’t want her trying to sneak out of the house to go look for him. How far is Will with the potion?”

 

“She told me it was almost done. She already got to the eyeballs of rat grinding part of the recipe. After that it’s just a couple of hours more of simmering.”

 

“Good. So the antidote is almost ready, all we need now is the patient.” She remarked in a dry matter-of-fact voice. And, she thought, as soon as we find him, I’m gonna personally make sure that mister Big Bad isn’t leaving us before he has at least a king-sized serving of anti-crazy juice poured down his gullet. Whatever guilt she suffered for getting him injured on her behalf, it wasn’t enough to diminish her feeling of utter anxiety after having observed him in his delusional state. A lot of things suited the attractive blond vampire rather well, but bed-humping crazy was definitely not one of them. Right now, the priority was to get Spike back to normal again, even if it meant she had to club him unconscious and drag him home by his bleached hair. Lighter matters like guilt could be dealt later on, when she was half dozing off above the cash register at work for example.

 

 

 

SCENE 3

 

I had a plan. Well at least, it sounded like one. Didn’t know if it was gonna be any good, but one had to try.

 

The moon shone like a sickly pale piece of goat-cheese in the sky as I strolled through Sunny D’s West cemetery. The Hellmouth had made any business that had anything to do with getting rid of dead relatives as lucrative as selling central heating to nudists in Alaska, and although the relatively small town had only a population of 10450 inhabitants (hell Gods, pixies, and demons like yours truly here not included), it had two large and four smaller graveyards, all of them expanding on rapid pace. If my loopy mind was not playing tricks on me, it was here on the West Cemetery where I had my dig. It was a large crypt owned by some uptight blue-veined aristocratic family, all smooth marble and fancy pillars, that I had fixed up rather nicely, nicking bits and pieces from the Slayer and her friends. Things they didn’t really need of course. I wouldn’t get my hands on any of Buffy’s furniture now that she had to work herself numb to afford any, but I had to admit that Harris old radio, standing-lamp, refrigerator, coffee-table and comfy chair were all rather handy. So were Red’s carpet, coffeemaker, dog-eared paperbacks (She might be clever, but her appetite for badly written ten dollar crime pockets were as huge as mine), fluffy cushions and colourful tapestries. Oh, and I borrowed stuff from the Magic Shop as well, boxes of candles to lit up the place to create a nice cosy atmosphere, hexenweed, orgebush and crinkleroot, to make my next meal of château du piggy a bit more interesting. Hell, I even drink my meals from the Watcher’s fancy novelty mug with the clever “Kiss the Librarian” pun.

 

Hey, what did you expect then? Of course I’m a thief.  I’m evil.

 

I sniggered, giddy as I was. Yep. Evil. That’s me. The Big Evil Dead, coming out to get you while you’re sleeping in your comfy bed. Looming behind the curtains when you’re careless enough to leave the windows open, with a tongue thirsting for fresh blood, baring fangs with the view of the veins pulsing underneath your tight skin. And then of course the terrible scream of agony cutting through the silence when the soddin chip kicks in and turns the Big bad into the Big Sad. 

 

My cheery mood disappeared like a steamy box of pepperoni pizza in the hands of the Scoobs.

 

Who was I kiddin?

 

I’m beyond pathetic.

 

I shook my head, and with the surging sickness, the confusing thoughts of vampiredom spilled from my mind like overripe peaches from a tree. Mustn’t think of being Spike or anything related to Spike. Must focus on getting back to Buffy. The real Buffy. The one with the soft and caring nature instead of the bitchy sadist that was currently carving lash marks on this whipping boy’s back. Lifting my head, I looked around and orientated my way on specific landmarks that made wandering around in a cemetery at night a bit easier. I had already passed the Hilton tomb and the Applebee’s family grave, the one with the funny little gargoyles, and I just had to turn another left when I reached the six feet high statue of Gabriel before I was back at my crib. From there, I figured, I could access the sewers and keep myself in hiding from the Scoobs till Dr Buffy found a way to wake me up again, perhaps take a couple bottles of Bourbon with me to pass the time. I couldn’t do anything to make the transition back into the real world happen pronto presto, but at least I could stay away from all the hallucinated wankers who tried to keep me here. 

 

I was already close enough to see the raised sword of the archangel cast a shadow over the graves when a sudden cold stung my body that made me suck in my cheeks, inhale deep and let out quivering breathes. A pale mist rolled by, a vortex of frail patches of light and darkness, settling down into vague shapes. I shivered as an image emerged, the translucent fog revealing a ghostly world before my eyes.

 

There were chains, again, but this time I was hanging from them, my naked form suspended from rusty steel cuffs that cut into my wrists. I was somewhere dark and cold, and the smell of damp hay and animal manure filled my nostrils. I was too dizzy to keep my head upright, so I just let it sag to one side, trying to let it rest on my chest. As I did, a gush of blood spilled out of a crusted wound on the other side of my neck. The tepid fluid, stolen from the living, but still bearing the unfading scent of my creator, glided down my battered body and fell into a half filled pail set out underneath me. The steady drip rippled the dark surface as it touched.

 

Angelus came to me, his eyes fixed in that trademark gloom that might be as eternal as his soddin existence, but there was that spark of malicious enjoyment in them that made me well aware of the less dangerous mood he was in. Still, I was chained like a dog and pretty much in agony, so there wasn’t much to celebrate. He was dressed very properly; dark blue velvet trousers, and an immaculate white shirt, except for the tiny blood splatters that kinda spoiled the whole fancy theme. Silver cuff-rings held up his sleeves and his well-groomed hair was kept in a ponytail. You could have wrapped a merry bow around the bloody poofter and given him away to Buffy for Christmas, and Joyce wouldn’t even have minded to let her daughter keep him. He looked like the perfect son in law, a real gent.

 

“William.” He whispered with his fingers wrapped tightly around my chin. “Tell me that ye want it and I let ye out of here. Let ye see Dru again.” He let go of me and stalked around, drawing small circles, a cat toying with his wounded prey. “Let ye hunt again. Feed again. Why, I would even be generous and allow ye to sleep in a proper bed instead of on the dirty floor in the stables. What do ye think, Will? Is this enough for ye?”

 

I let go of a ragged moan as a sudden flash of pain cut through my right side; a savage burning that left a trail of agony through my lower innards. My head sank down and I saw that there was a long, rusty metal pin sticking out of my body, impaling me from my back to the front, and I cringed as Angelus twisted the end around. Blood oozed out of the fresh gash, turning the drip into a gushing stream that filling up the pail at my feet pretty fast.

 

I didn’t understand why I didn’t scream. I wanted to. The pain was unbearable, maddening. But as I opened my mouth and strained my lungs, nothing came out except for some sort of bizarre primitive roar. The sound of a wounded animal, not of a tormented man. I tried to swallow and noticed that I didn’t have a tongue to aid me doing so. Nothing was left of it but a fleshy stump, raw and thick, unable to bear words.

 

I dropped on my hands and knees, damp grass between my fingers that I grabbed onto in desperation. This wasn’t real. I wasn’t there. I was at the cemetery, trying to find my way back to reality. I was not in some dark and dank horse-stable back in a nancyboy dress-code era, getting tortured by that nightmare monster. It was a delusion. A delusion inside of another delusion. Yeah, that must be it! Dr Giles did once explain to me that my illness was multi-layered.

 

“Will, look at me lad.”

 

“No, please leave me alone.” I muttered. But I did what he demanded, quit gazing down at the lawn, raised my head and stared at him, blinking blood and sweat out of my eyes as I did.

 

His lips curled into a cruel smile. “Now is yer chance. Let me know that this is enough. I know ye can’t really speak to me right now and that you’re angry for what I’ve done to ye. But let me assure ye lad, everything is going to be fine. Trust me. Considering I let ye live that long to let it grow back that is.”

 

I whimpered as he grabbed me by my hair and yanked my head to one side, exposing the horrible wound on my neck. He stuck two fingers in the gash, burrowing them into my torn flesh and I roared again as they dug deep into the damaged tissue, his fingers wriggling like two flesh-eating maggots.

 

I grabbed my neck and covered the wound with a shaking hand, expecting to find his fingers creepy-crawling inside of me but clutching nothing but my own undamaged skin. A red haze came over my vision, and the whole cemetery became obscured by a veil of blood. Shapes of tombstones that had been standing right in front of me in neat rows of four started to blur, while the nightmare visions of my torment increased alarmingly in intensity.    

 

“Painful. Isn’t it?” Angelus cheered. “Do ye want me to stop this, William? End all this pain and suffering that I bestow on ye? Tell me so, and I’ll stop. Tell me what I need to hear.”

 

I didn’t have to ponder about it. There wasn’t enough mind left in me to fill a doggy bag, let alone argue with him, so I gave in.

 

“Please stop this! It’s enough! It hurts! It hurts! I’ll do whatever you ask!”

 

But there wasn’t a single understandable word coming from me as I lamented. Only a string of animalistic sounds that couldn’t be deciphered even with the best of intentions, and Angelus wasn’t exactly trying very hard to listen. His smile widened as he heard my painstaking efforts to plead for my life, his teeth showing.

 

“Do ye expect me to understand anything out of that mad barking of yers?” He hissed and somewhere beneath the muscles of my neck, his talons cut through my flesh and ripped me open from the inside out as easy as a set of kitchen knives going through soft butter. I gagged. Blood welled up from somewhere down my throat, a rupture of arteries that were supposed to supply blood to my brains but were now heaved up by me and dripped in lazy spills down my chin.

 

It dripped on the lean leaves of grass below be. Dazed, I raised a hand to catch a drop and toughed my nose to find a sticky string hanging on to it like a funny coloured booger. I snorted, clearing my nose. My mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood.

 

Oh hell. This was bloody insane.

 

I swabbed off the muck with the sleeve of my coat, hands trembling feverishly. I had to stay focussed. Keep myself grounded in this “reality” while my nightmares ragged and slammed against the confines of my sanity, trying to tear down the brittle barrier and get their hands on me. If I didn’t succeed in even staying here, I was as good as dead. Angelus would kill me in that other, even lesser pleasant reality. He was already bleeding me dry for fun, wouldn’t take much more for him to put a sharp wooden object through my heart while he was still on the whole torturing thing. Definitely, not eager to go there. 

 

I tried to struggle back up, concentrating my vision on the cemetery surroundings, rather then the dark stable where I was almost tortured to death. It shadowed through into this reality like a thick red veil, as if two separated semi-translucent worlds were put on top of one another. I had difficulty using my hands and legs, for a part of me had already started to believe that they were restrained in metal cuffs and chains. I managed to get moderately back on my feet with only my right hand still supporting my trembling frame, when a scaly, red knuckled fist wearing big ugly rings, collided with my chin and sent me reeling over the soggy cemetery grounds.

 

Struggling up from the muddy earth, I flashed my eyes as I became aware that I was no longer alone in the graveyard. Five or six figures stood in front of me, dressed in black t-shirts with heavy metal prints and leather biker pants. Their faces were warped, inhuman, with bony structures growing out of anatomically incorrect places. Their skins a cooked lobster red.

 

With difficulty, I closed my mouth again and tightened my jaw, while being slightly aware of the sharp pain shooting up to my brains when I grated my teeth.

 

This was so very wrong in so many ways.

 

“Spike!” The unpleasantly familiar Inferno demon yelled. “Didn’t expect you back anytime soon. The word got out that you finally got wasted.”

 

“Steward.” I muttered, than shook my head in absolute denial. “What – What are you doing here?”   

 

“So you can still recognise me then!?” He moved toward me, his demon mates following a few steps behind, popping knuckles in cheer anticipation as they came closer. Something odd happened to Steward’s face; there were large patches of black scar tissue spreading all over his skin, he was missing half an eyebrow and his right eye looked rather funny, too glossy and too dead to be real.

 

And then the notion hit me. “That bleeding I had, you’ve done that! You’ve whacked me in the face and – and have given me that nosebleed!”  Hell, I thought I was going completely crackers here, but it was just something that was linked to this world that had done the damage and caused me to bleed. It wasn’t Angelus. It wasn’t him. I giggled, happily relieved. The bloody poofter didn’t got me yet. I survived and was still standing, figurative speaking.

 

The Inferno demon gazed down at me with his one good eye, perhaps a bit confused about my unanticipated reaction, pupil narrowing to a narrow slit. “And what if I did? Do you think I still care about the demon rules of conduct when dealing with scum like you?  After all that crap you’ve done to my face!? After you burnt out my fucking eye!? You treacherous bloodsucking weasel!”

 

I furrowed my brows in confusion. For all I could remember, I had been a very good boy for the last couple of months, considering the countless times I had ignored my cravings to do exactly what he accused me to have done to his bloody ugly mug. Still, the circumstances didn’t look that good with Steward out on retaliation while I was trippin like a Flowerperson on communal tree-hugging and whale-saving classes. Better stay polite and try to explain to the wanker that he wasn’t suppose to be here and that he should sod off, or else I’ll let Buffy take in his turn for the remote. See if the bloody git could still zap that fast after I pick all the buttons out of the soddin telly. 

 

“I – I haven’t done anything – ”

 

Before I could finish my incoherent jabbering, my vision shifted back to the other world, where Angelus approached me with a branding iron that he had taken off the fire just seconds before. The hot steel burst from orange-red into bright radiant white as he puffed on it, and the glow illuminated his features demonically. Weak and useless, withering in agony with no other thought occupying my mind but to escape the very pain that was ripping me apart, I watched how the brand was forced against the wound in my neck and, with a sick sizzling sound, burnt it close.

 

The Inferno demon’s fist came down hard and fast with the momentum of the impact knocking me over. Both worlds blurred in front of my eyes, dancing around and all over each other as though I was looking through a crazy kaleidoscope. I gasped out of pain when a steel-capped boot hit me in the stomach, and suddenly, I was surrounded by a forest of leather clad legs and army boots, angry red lizard faces hovering above me, with Steward’s ruined mug gawking down at me like some sort of craterous moon.

 

“Anything to say before I let the boys have your face exactly redone like mine, blood-leech!?” He smashed his foot over my right hand. I heard my finger-bones snap like dry twigs under his weight and I had to bite on my tongue to prevent myself from screaming.

 

Only I had no tongue to bite on any more, of course.

 

A sad whimpering sound, like that of a dying animal, gurgled up my throat, together with sticky bits of coagulated blood that obstructed my throat. I gagged and retched it out. Angelus’ eyes were close to mine, studying me. The sickly sweet scent of burnt flesh lingered in the cold air, while the searing agony caused by the hot iron on my neck still spread through my body like decay on a corpse.  

 

“Tell me what I want to hear, Will. Tell me and I’ll help ye out. Let all that terrible pain go away.”

 

My mind raced, I didn’t got a soddin clue what he wanted from me. Or maybe it had elapsed me, and I had known it once. I cursed myself for being this slow, for being this daft. The end to all of my torment was only one or two words away and I had forgotten them. I would never get out of here alive. Angelus was going to turn me into ashes and use my remains to fertilize his precious rosebushes, and Dru would think that I had given up on her, that I had fled from the satanic Aurelius family like a complete sissy.        

 

“See it as a bit of justice that has to be done.” Steward was there again, squatting on his heels beside me, fiddling his silver rings with his disgusting scaly fingers. “Face it Spike, for all the bullshit you’ve pulled on your own kind, working together with the Slayer against us and all, you’re lucky that we are only going to kill you once.”

 

Somewhere from the corner of my vision, I saw a lead pipe come down on me. I buckled as it exploded on my spine. A second blow landed on the back of my neck and I tried to curl up into a tight ball to protect myself, pain blocking out any other emotion but deadening fear. One of Stewards lizard boys pulled out a Swish army knife and stabbed me in my arm, just as I tried to raise it above my head to shield myself from their kicks and blows. I started to scream and sob and finally gag in my own blood in pathetic agony, while fists and boots and whatever more the monstrous gang had to throw at me, beat down on my wretched body.

 

“Ye don’t want any of this, lad. And it is not necessary. Just give in, for once. Tell me what I want to hear. Save yerself from all this suffering.”

 

Angelus let go of me, and my abused body sagged down like a boneless bag of skin till it was withheld from plummeting to the ground by rattling chains. I was shaking, cold, and dying. The monster, he had drained me dry, not a drop of blood was left in me to keep me warm, to keep me going. I was no more but an empty vessel with the weakened demon inside, going crackers out of hunger for substance.

 

He had spilled all of my blood. Life bearing fluid. Given to me by my Sire. My beautiful Dru.

 

He had done this with a purpose.

 

He wanted to control me.        

 

And then I finally realized what he asked of me.

 

The stab-wound in my arm throbbed and spread out a warm numbing sensation. I blinked as bright flashes of light appeared and immediately disappeared again, elusive and powerful like lightening. I could hear voices coming at me from far; sounding hollow, unclear, but also comforting familiar.

 

“Spike!”

 

Startled, listening to her yelling out my name, I noticed how the angry woods of legs parted. The assaults on my battered body ceased. I was only slightly aware of the panic that had struck the group of demonic fiends, when a couple of them were sent reeling over the ground, both set afire by blazing bolts.

 

“Slayer!” Hissed the Inferno demon, nostrils breathing out rings of black smoke.

 

“Buffy!” I shouted, or for as far my damaged lungs allowed me to. “Duck!”

 

He sucked in a deep breath of air, spread his mouth wide and a flame shot out the size you expect coming out of a flamethrower.

 

I couldn’t see her, lying there pathetically in bits and pieces on the ground, dark shadows of demons obscuring me from what was happing behind them. I could only hope that she could handle the Inferno demons on her own. Steward and company were nothing fancy but six pyromaniacs against one Slayer still seemed a bit unfair.

 

“Buff, watch your back! He’s trying again!”

 

The dark night’s sky lit up like a soddin Christmas tree and I heard Harris roar a couple of Kamikaze yells before charging at the demons. It was followed by much grunting and groaning from the demon party. Guess the glorified bricklayer was having a good night.   

 

“William.”

 

I blinked as blood dripped in my eyes and started to also paint this reality red. There was her voice again. Buffy’s voice.

 

“William, can you hear me? Please, wake up!”

 

No, not her voice .Not this Buffy. The real Buffy. The one with the PHD in psychology and the pleasant smile. The one who smelled like summer-strawberries. The Buffy who cared about me and was able to love me in all of my sad and pitiable glory.

 

Crawling on my elbows, I wriggled away from the demons who had turned their backs on me, straining every muscle in my body that wasn’t bruised yet, however painful. I didn’t see anything that could give me a soddin clue to where I should go. No guiding light, mystical portal or tear in the fabric of reality thing with a flickering sign reading “This way, you stupid git!” to help me out. But I could drag myself towards where her voice came from. Bring myself closer to her presence. Even if I didn’t succeed in going back, I rather died within perhaps an arms length out of her reach with her warm and lovely voice ringing in my ears then to perish alone without even such consolation.

 

The dimensions shifted again, tombstones and diamond night sky disappearing into the background, while the freezing cold came back to me, and a sense of longing rose in my body so intense that the horrific injuries it sustained were just nothing compared to it. It was a craving, a hunger so deep and violent that it could drive a demon mad, or madder.

 

Angelus raised his left wrist to his mouth, and broke his skin with his fangs. With thirsting eyes, I saw how shiny droplets of crimson appeared at the surface. Wonderful, warm substance, the pleasant coppery smell of it lured my stomach into loud grumbling. My Grand Sire smiled at me, wicked and shrewd, then he ripped his flesh open, tearing a gaping wound the size of a sterling, out of which his blood ran freely. It trickled down his arm, spreading out like thin red branches over his pale skin.

 

I shivered pitiably. Eyes white rimmed and fixed on all that blood that spilled so wastefully on the floor. My own cold body yearning for it, begging for it, to have that wonderful taste fill my mouth and the warmth it carried inside of me, driving out the horrible cold.          

 

“Ye’re becoming one of mine, Will. Not a drop of yer Sire’s blood is left in yer pitiable form. I’ve ended yer old existence and I shall give ye a new. A fresh start, so to speak, and all that ye have wronged me in the past shall be forgiven.”

 

He lifted his bleeding wrist to up to my lips. I let out a ragged sigh of anticipation, and then sank my fangs into the wound, closing my crusted lips eagerly around it.

 

“This blood is life. A gift from this Sire to his Childe. An everlasting bond. Ye’re mine now, Childe. Mine for eternity.”

 

I swallowed the warm liquid. Letting it roll over the raw painful stump and let it glide down, fill up the hungry emptiness. I pushed back all the poisonous memories of the last couple of months, of all the humiliation, all the torture that this wicked man had let me gone through. This Monster that had tricked me in becoming his Childe. I closed my eyes and fixed my thoughts on my survival, on feeding solely, but my heart revolted with every sip I took from this malevolent creature.

 

I no longer belonged to my beloved Dru. Her privilege had vanished with the last beads of her blood leaving my body. Angelus had claimed me now. He had become my one and only true Sire, and as long as his blood flowed through my veins, he would possess me for eternity.

 

I collapsed on the lawn, my face buried in the muddy grounds, my fingers digging in my eyes till the pain it caused was visible in patches of rainbow colours. I didn’t want to see all of this! Angelus, Slayer, and Harris. They all belonged here! What I had seen and had discarded, as a descent of my mind into another level of crazy Psycho Land was no other then a fragment of my past. Spike’s past. A terrifying memory that should have been forgotten long ago if life was that merciful. In this reality, Angelus was real. He had existed here, and still did, lurking in dark recollections, eager to come out as soon as I was left alone.     

  

I could hear myself scream, loud and shrill, madness resounding in my voice, while I rubbed my face in the mud, trying to burrow myself into the ground, perhaps even begging it to swallow me whole.

 

“Will! Please snap out of this!”

 

“Spike! What the hell are you doing?”

 

I clenched the sleeves of my trench coat between my fingers and tugged the whole thing over my head, huddling in the safe darkness underneath. My mad screaming gradually turning into a crazy laughter, while tears rolled down my cheeks.

 

“Please, wake up! Wake up, Will!”

 

“Oh God, please! Buffy! Don’t leave me here! Help me! Don’t leave me alone in the dark with him! I don’t want to be crazy anymore! I’ll be good! I’ll behave myself! I’ll be a good boy! Don’t let him get me! Don’t let him, don’t wanne be here, don’t wanne don’t wanne don’t - ”

 

“Spike?”

 

“Will?”

 

“Don’t! Don’t tough me!” 

 

I moved away from the hand that had tried to grab me, pulling up my legs against my belly and wrapping my arms across my chest. The darkness in which I was hiding was comfortable, soothing, numbing. It was like the burrow of a hibernating rodent, the air stagnant and thick with sleepy, deadly carbon dioxide.

 

I heard her voice again. This time no longer from far away, but close enough to hear her emotions sounding right through the words.

 

“Fight this, Will. You have to come back. You’re strong enough to do this.”

 

No I wasn’t. I wasn’t strong enough to do anything. I was alone, and lost and in the dark. This hole was my tomb. I could hide here forever without her ever finding me.

 

“Buffy. Help me.”

 

My voice was small and without hope, an empty plead for forgiveness that wasn’t anticipated. I didn’t deserve her help. The things I had done, horrible, destructive things, all in the name of vicious, useless hate. Dreams of murder and death, all for blood. Dreams of vengeance and rage and resentment. How could I’ve made up all these dreams, if there wasn’t real evil somewhere deep inside of me?

 

I curled up tighter in the dark, dreams of that fabricated world haunting me. Angelus was haunting me. What had I done to Liam? I hurt him, almost killed him. How could I do such wicked things? He was my brother, flesh and blood. We shared everything. That chair – I wanted to break in his skull with that chair. I wanted to destroy him. All because I believed I could just do such things, that I could allow myself to kill because I had killed before, being a heartless, evil vampire and all.

 

Oh God.

 

Liam was right.

 

I was mad.     

 

My final resolve broke down, crumbling like a brittle wall, letting in the horrible beasties. Whimpering, I buried myself deeper into the darkness, into my grave. It would be better for her if she didn’t see me. I didn’t deserve her. I would hurt her. I was afraid of what I could do to the people I cared for once my mind was completely gone and the monster took over the wheels.

 

The darkness was all around me, claustrophobically close on my skin, deadening to the senses. But there were noises coming out of the dark. Angry voices, angry shadows, calling out to me. Telling me how useless I was, how wicked and bad and how I deserved to be left here to rot alone. Crawling on bleeding hands had knees, begging them to stop, I moved into a corner and huddled against it, fear gripping my throat. This was it then. The end of the whole soddin puppet show. This was where I belonged. Where I should be for the rest of eternity. Away from everything and everyone, away from her. Monsters were supposed to be kept out of the light. Timmy had been bad, wandering around in the dark after sunset, now he fell down the bloody well and no one would ever bother to rescue him out of there. They were all very happy to be rid of him, even sealed the soddin lid. Poor, stupid little twat.

 

The voices became louder and more known to me, and each one of them had the bloody right to shout those ugly things that made me feel worthless, lower then dirt. I started to sob, and softly, I rocked my body as my mother would have if she had been there to provide me comfort. But there wasn’t real comfort, there wasn’t anything. It was just me, and them, and the darkness. 

 

And then a hand, warm and soft, took hold of mine and pulled me out of there.

 

 

 

SCENE 4

 

She watched him struggle against his invisible demons, body curled up in a protective foetal position on a white sheet canvas, his arms and hands shielding his anxious face. His fear and agony pained her, moved her more then it should, considering that she was an experienced doctor, and had witnessed more human suffering than one could imagine. She winced when she saw him claw at his own face, scraping his blood rimmed nails along his cheeks till they wept crimson beads. Her hands lashed out, grabbing his and forcing them down, using all her strength to overpower her patient’s mad vigour. Mike came to her with the wet sheets and the restrains, heavy leather belts to be fastened to the metal rings under the bed, but she shook her head.

 

“Not now. He’s fighting it. Leave him alone.”

 

The orderly gave her a questioning gaze, then put the restrains aside on the small nightstand next to the bed and helped her to force William’s arms down while the young man wailed and screamed in broken words, the drugs they had injected into his bloodstream tearing down his delusional prison. He panted, chest rising and falling in a hyperventilating pace, his eyes white rimmed in horror, his mouth uttering frightened whinges. It was then that she heard him call out to her.

 

“Buffy. Help me.”

 

Her heart felt heavy, pained. Somehow, his words had deepened the forbidden, secret feelings that she had for this patient. His plead sounded so piteous, perhaps even apologetic, as if he wasn’t expecting her to offer him any help and he was sorry for bothering her.

 

She grabbed his hand and held on to it. It may be that he wasn’t conscious enough to know that she was there, but at least she could try to offer him as much comfort and support as she possibly could. There was relief when she finally saw the madness fading out of him, his tensed body unwinding till his knees were no longer pressing against his ribcage. Slowly, his respiration became more tranquil, and the fear that had been showing on his face ebbed away as she stroke a damp lock of hear from his forehead. When she thought that there was no longer danger of him wounding himself, she told Mike to let go of his arms, and she watched how he tossed and turned like a child, awakening from a terrible nightmare. 

 

And then the light that had been lost behind the insanity returned into his eyes, a spark of recognition came back to them as he was looking into this world rather then staring right through it to hide into his own.  

 

He gazed at her through an opening from under the shelter of arms that he had draped over his head and neck, a frightened and confused animal that had been hunted down cruelly.

 

“It all right William.” Buffy said, her voice light and gentle. “It’s all right. You’re back with us now. No one will hurt you here.”

 

He muttered something under his breath, then pressed his back against the wall, backing away from her.

 

“Let me help.”

 

He whimpered and curled away when she tried to touch him. It puzzled her since he had accepted her holding his hand, even clung on to it as though he was a desperate man drowning at sea. Why would he be afraid of her?

 

“Will.” Buffy had to swallow something cold and uncomfortable that would have otherwise made her voice quiver. “Please, I won’t hurt you.”

 

His body shivered as if he was struck by cold. Anxiously, he shook his head.

 

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” He muttered. “Not you. You won’t. But the other- thing.”

 

“What other thing, William?”

 

Buffy had to repress a sigh of relief when she heard her patient finally talking back to her, however elusive the conversation may be, it was something to keep him here, to ground him in reality. 

 

“Dark things.” He explained, furrowing his brows in dismay. “Things that will hurt you if you’re bad.” Blue eyes pierced around, suddenly terrified, then he asked in a broken, small voice. “Have I been bad?”

 

“No, you’re not bad, William.” Buffy answered, her growing sense of dread started to overshadow the joy of recovering him from his delusional world. “Don’t be afraid. The dark things won’t get you. Just let me-”

 

She reached out to him, her hand barely touching his shoulder. William screamed, panic spurring his impulses, moving his limps as though he was controlled by a spasmodic puppeteer. His legs lashed out and struck her in the side, just under her ribs.

 

Buffy let out a cry and buckled over in pain.

 

Mike grabbed the thrashing patient by his wrists, forcing them to be stretched above his head. The bright light of the room finally beat down on his bewildered face and William squinted his eyes, astounded that he was by so much light. It was harsh enough to make him terrified.

 

“Don’t!” He cried out. “Don’t belong here! Too much light! Burn. They’ll make me burn.”

 

Mike straddled him, sitting on his legs till William was no longer trying to strike out with them to fight off his invisible monsters. Finally, his cries died down, his mind shocked by the notion that the light didn’t make him burst into flames. Then his eyes caught her standing there in the corner of the white room, nursing her side with a trembling hand, a terrified expression on her face, and softly, he started to sob.

 

“Told you!” He shouted through his tears, angry with her that she didn’t understand. She never did. Never listened. “Dark things. They make it hurt. Make you hurt. Should stay away from dark things. Leave them alone.”

 

He started hyperventilating again, eyes shifting from one empty space in midair at the end of his bed to the other, as if he was looking at a crowd of people that had gathered around him.

 

“No!!” He cried out, mightily pissed off by their apparent maliciousness against the girl. “She doesn’t deserve it! She’s not like me. And bloody hell! Stay out of my bloody business!!!”

 

The angry shout died down into another sob, the craziness inside making him crave to crawl back into that hole again where he could deal with the hostile voices in isolation. But instead he turned his head to his side and gazed at her, weeping with wide-open eyes. 

 

“Buffy?” He asked in concern, almost like a chivalry knight finding the damsel in distress. He had already forgotten what he had done. “Buffy, are you alright?” 

 

Buffy let out a tattered sigh. This was too much for her to bear. Both physically and emotionally, she was drained and horrified. William’s cryptic tongue frightened her, as did the murderous rage inside of him that she had seen through the cracks of the icy surface of his paralysing fear. But most of all, it ached her heart to see him like this, so confused, so very lost in madness. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to control herself. Somewhere buried deep underneath all that torturous insanity, William was crying out to her, begging for help. She would not let him down.

 

“Yes, I’m alright. Nothing wrong with me.” She said to put him at ease, although she knew that there would be a purple bruise the size and the shape of a foot on her skin tomorrow morning. “Calm down, William. Don’t listen to those voices.”

 

“Can’t.” He whispered, afraid that they would hear. “They are always there. Laughing. Talking. Ticking me off. They –” He struggled against Mike’s firm grip on his wrists. “No, it’s all my fault. Not hers. Or his. I should - I should have known better then to take the whole special package deal without reading the microscopic small prints first.”

 

Buffy walked over to him, a grave mood choking the air out of her throat as she spoke.

 

“What are they trying to tell you, Will?”

 

“They –” He paused, listening to their arguments, then whimpered in distress. “Can’t do that. Please, don’t make me.” He hid his face in the pillows, trying to ignore their unpleasant shouting. “Besides, it won’t help.” He tried. “He’s here and it’s here. They won’t leave. Won’t let me rest.”

 

She knelt down beside him, gazing into his bewildered eyes, her anxious face reflecting inside his dark pupils.

 

“They tell me that I’m bad, Buffy.” His voice broke down into a quiet sob. “ Poisoned and dead inside. A dark evil thing. I make it hurt.” He blinked with his eyes, awareness suddenly rushing back into him. “Oh God.” He muttered, staring at her hand shielding her side. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s - It’s okay. Don’t blame yourself. You diddn’t mean to.”

 

“No it’s not. Not okay.” He shook his head, ashamed. “I’ve been – I wasn’t - that “thing” ” He spat the word out in disgust and self-loathing. “I let it get you.”

 

“Will, don’t do this to yourself. I’m fine.”

 

“No! Not fine! It’s not the girl! Not the girl! Don’t hurt the girl!” He struggled free from Mike’s grip and lashed out, balding his right hand into a fist and starting hitting his own face with it. “Get out!! All of you!!” talking as if he was trying to chase those voices out of his head. “I don’t – I need –” He arched a brow, then stated in an offended voice; “Honestly, your advice is totally out of place here.”

 

“Mike,” Buffy’s voice trembled. “Put him into the cold sheet pack before he hurts himself.”

 

“You’re going to strap down again?” He asked sadly, but with a calm and lucidity in his voice that alarmed her. “You’re absolutely right. You should.” To her relief, he stopped hitting himself, and stretched his free hand out to her, offering to be held down. “Please, do it. I’m sure I will be grateful.”

 

She helped the orderly to undress him and wrap the blank sheets around his bare body. He shivered piteously when the icy wet fabric touched his skin, but didn’t fight to get them off. He just stared up at her, his lips trembling, his eyes begging. She worked fast, pulling the sheets tight and adding new layers while rolling him back and forth over the mattress. Her hands were trained to do this, so was her mind academically instructed to accept this treatment that she put him through as an efficient remedy to calm down his insanity, but inside, she had difficulty accepting this as not yet another terrible ordeal that she had made him to suffer so futilely.

 

When it was time to secure the leather restrains, she could not longer handle the situation and she had to let Mike finish it while she rushed outside, her stomach heaving. She leaned back, the cold of the hygienically tiled walls slipping through her white doctor’s coat, making her tremble. Inside the room, she heard him make a small pleading noise, anxiety expressed in a whimper, no longer in words, when Mike tightened the restrains and fastened them, leaving him in an ice-cold cocoon, bound to the bed.

 

Her face was as white as the walls in this ghostly place when the orderly came out of the isolation room, gently shutting the door behind him.

 

“I’m sorry. I – I couldn’t –” She stuttered, trying to apologize for her professional error.

 

“It’s okay Dr Summers.” Mike said. “He has calmed down now. We should leave him for a while.”

 

“I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get in the way of my judgement.”

 

“It’s those emotions that you show that makes me believe that you’re a good doctor in the first place.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “It proves that you truly have heart for your patients. Sometimes, in a place like this, a heart is all that’s lacking to get them well.”

 

Buffy looked up at the tall orderly. “You shouldn’t say that!” She uttered. “I’ve done nothing right. I’m a total screw-up! I mean, look at him! He’s even worse now than he had been when I first started treating him.”

 

“What are you talking about? You were the one who brought him back! You pretty much saved him from himself. There was nothing more that you could have done to help him out, Dr Summers. What happened in there was not your fault.”

 

“It is my fault.” She stated bitterly. “Because he’s my responsibility. He had problems. He was in pain. But I didn’t notice them. Dismissed his complains as nothing serious, nothing to worry about. My patient’s mind was falling apart and all I had to offer him was a light-hearted “Everything is gonna be all right” speech and my endless strings of fine-fine-fines!” She looked down at her shoes, wiping a stubborn tear from her cheek.

 

“I ruined him. He’s like this all because of me.”

 

She bit on her lower lip. The tears of guilt could no longer be held back. Mike wrapped his arms around her, and she accepted his kindness gratefully. Huddling against the white overall of the orderly, she finally let them roll freely down her face.

 

---

 

 

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