Fic: Palimpsest - Part Two
Prompt: I don't believe in this stuff anyway... (Sept 2014).
Title: Palimpsest (Part Two)
Rating: R
Setting: Post-series AU (could be mid-S9)
Warnings: Grab your tissues. At least - I hope you need them! :)
A/N: I wrote this a year ago in preparation for the next round of Seasonal Spuffy... but Seasonal Spuffy has gone on hiatus. Meanwhile, S10 keeps getting more and more Scooby-friendship friendly, unlike S9. This is much closer to S9's mood.
A/N2: Written to go off-canon sometime mid-S9, but also written so that comic knowledge is mostly unnecessary (except for a few small jokes).
A/N3: Thanks to foxstarreh and margueritedaisy for beta work, and foxstarreh for being my S9 encyclopedia so that I didn't have to actually buy or read the comics. :)
PART ONE HERE
Palimpsest: 1) A parchment or the like from which the writing has been partially or completely erased and replaced with new writing. 2) Something that has been changed over time and shows evidence of that change. (Merriam-Webster Online)
PART TWO
I dropped my board in the water and the chalk all ran. Sure to be caned.
- Spike (Lessons)
.
.
William's evil doppelganger might have stopped haunting her dreams, supplanted as he was by Willow, but that didn't mean she was free from Spike.
Buffy had once watched a movie where the main character, driven half-insane by insomnia, had been able to see the secret, sinister world normally hidden by the mundane, human one. She was pretty sure there was no secret world full of things that went bump in the night, but she figured she had the half-insane part down, no problem. Sometimes, when she glanced over at William, she'd be shocked to see his hair light brown and loosely curled about his head rather than in the shape of a peroxided blond helmet. More than once, she caught herself mentally planning a trip to the butcher to pick him up some blood. Worst of all was the time she'd seen - seen - smoke curling up off of his skin as he weeded beside her under the morning sun. Heart hammering, she'd shoved him into the shadows with the strength of a woman possessed. William had complained about the minor case of deafness her screams had given him only slightly less than he'd whined over the gravel she'd had to dig out of his hands and knees after.
"I can see why this Spike fellow calls you Slayer," he'd said, but she hadn't been able to laugh, not even a bare chuckle. Her sense of humor had reached an all-time low.
It was the day after that when she'd called Dr. Crane and asked him to tell her more about vampires and demons. Maybe the old coot wasn't so crazy after all - or maybe she was just crazy enough to want to believe him.
His response had left Buffy even less sure of her sanity. "Vampires? No matter how vivid your nightmares, how realistic, I can assure you there's no such thing. No, they're merely a symbolic representation of your trauma."
"But..." But you're the one who brought it up, Buffy wanted to scream. You're the one who suggested we'd had an encounter with vampires.
"Yes, yes, I know vampires have been all the rage lately. They quite took over popular culture, so much so even I gave them credence for a short while. That Harmony Kendall was quite convincing, wasn't she? She's been discredited, though. They all have." He chuckled. "As if a vampire would compete on Dancing with the Stars."
Buffy wasn't sure if she was relieved, or more frightened for her sanity than ever.
"So what do I do? How do I make this stop, Doc? Cause to be honest, I can't take much more. Either these dreams have to end, or the memories have to come out. Now."
She could hear him rifling through his books. "Perhaps we could try regression hypnotherapy again. Say, two weeks from Monday?" Buffy gave her agreement, not even bothering to check her calendar. "Very good. In the meantime, I suggest meditation. Remove all distractions, clear your mind. See what happens."
Meditation wasn't really her style - give her ten minutes with a punching bag instead - but she was willing to give it a shot.
Anything, at this point.
.
*******
.
Meditation really wasn't her style.
Buffy flopped onto her back, exhausted after only a few minutes of soothing breaths and peaceful thoughts. Maybe she could try regressing her memories herself?
Still on her back, she closed her eyes. Yesterday. What happened yesterday?
She winced. Yesterday was so not a good place to start. Yesterday, she'd woken from her usual nightmares, but this time Angel had joined the fray. Like William, the nightmare version of her high school boyfriend had sported the telltale forehead ridges and yellow eyes of a vampire. Only it hadn't been Buffy he'd been after, it had been her friends. Her family. Her - Giles.
Giles with a broken neck, staring sightlessly, and -
Nope. Not starting there.
Better to start closer to the accident. Not like there was anything wrong with her short-term memory, after all. No, she'd start with...
.
*******
.
"He's free to go? Really?"
"Really," said the doctor, her smile a mixture of irritation and indulgence. "William has a clean bill of health. So long as he keeps up his physical therapy, I expect a full recovery."
"And his..." Buffy waggled her fingers at her head.
"Is your memory loss affecting your ability to function?"
Buffy was quick to deny it. She didn't want to give the nice doctor any reason to stick her back in the hospital. "Fit as a fiddle. No problems here!" Thanking the doctor for her time, she turned and made a hasty retreat.
She found William in his hospital room, staring at the bright walls. "Ready?"
"Yeah." He looked around the room. "It's almost come to feel like home. I'm a little bit nervous about what's outside these walls, truth be told."
Pointing at the wheelchair he was to ride in one last time, she said, "Get in. And I don't blame you. You've been here almost two months. Longer, if you count the time you spent playing Sleeping Beauty."
The nurse on duty wished him a fond farewell, but otherwise they made their escape quickly. Buffy left William by the front door and brought his car around. He took one look at her in the driver's seat and, with a show of strength that belied his limp, stalked over to the driver's side and yanked the door open. "I'm not fixing to come back here anytime soon. Out."
"But..."
"Out! I'm driving."
He gave in soon after they'd left San Francisco behind, once the traffic had thinned out and he couldn't hide his exhaustion any longer. Buffy slid into the driver's seat, suppressing the urge to pull out her shiny new learner's permit and show it to him just one more time. But as she neared the turnoff for the crater formerly known as Sunnydale, she found herself flagging, unused to driving long distances. William didn't look much better. Though his eyes were shut, his knuckles were white on his knees. "Maybe we should spend the night somewhere," Buffy said. "Drive the rest tomorrow. It's not like we're in any great rush, right?"
"Thank Christ," William muttered under his breath. He opened his eyes and took in their surroundings, squinting at the road signs as they flashed past. "Sunnyhell's out of the question."
"Eh, we're getting close to Los Angeles. I'm sure there'll be something soon."
Buffy took the first exit promising lodging and found a decent looking motel. Pulling into the parking lot, she felt pretty damn proud of herself, but the feeling dissipated when it came time to check in and the clerk asked whether they wanted a room with one bed or two. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see William studiously avoiding her gaze.
Once upon a time, he would've answered without a moment's hesitation, not even giving Buffy the chance to protest. These days, he was more circumspect. While she appreciated his restraint, it put her in the awkward position of having to be the one to make the first move - and making the first move meant taking a big, scary chance.
She'd managed to speak her heart before the accident, and that had gone all right. Maybe being bold could be a new trend.
"One," Buffy said at the same time as William said, "Two." Startled, he turned to her.
"You sure?" When she nodded, he grinned. "One it is, mate," he said to the clerk, eyes still glued to Buffy.
The clerk rolled his eyes, but neither of them paid him any attention.
By unspoken agreement, they did no more than cuddle up together in their room with a single bed. Buffy laid her head on his shoulder, her hand stroking William's chest. "This is nice. Much more roomy than your hospital bed. Tell me you have a king size waiting for us at home?"
She cringed inwardly, mortified by her inadvertent wording, but relaxed when his only answer was a light snore. While he might have mentioned hoping she'd move to Temecula, he hadn't actually asked her to move in with him. Maybe he wasn't ready for that yet. Maybe she wasn't ready for that, yet. For once, William was the one with a life, a purpose, and she was the hanger-on.
It wasn't a very comfortable feeling.
Sitting next to William as he navigated the sunny streets of his new hometown the following morning, her sense of displacement only grew stronger. He pulled up in front of his store-slash-apartment with a confidence and surety that magnified her own disquiet. "Here we are, love. My very own home sweet home."
Buffy examined the storefront, and was surprised to find William doing the same, a small crease between his brows. "Something wrong?"
"Huh?" He shook his head. "Been so long since I've been here, almost feels like a dream, you know? Bit surreal." William climbed out slowly, favoring his left leg. "Come on, I'll show you around."
The door of the shop burst open and a young man came rushing out. "William! You're back! Does this mean I can finally take that vacation you promised me?" He winked and flashed Buffy a smile.
"All right, mate, don't get ahead of yourself." William paused a moment, an intense look of concentration on his face. "Trevor."
Trevor smiled again. "So glad to have you back, man. Everybody's missed you."
"Been slacking off, you mean." William wrapped his arm around Buffy's shoulder and ushered her inside the busy store. After a perfunctory tour, Trevor shooed them back outside, around to the stairs in back, claiming his boss looked like death warmed over and would scare off the customers.
William smiled gratefully and climbed the steps, Buffy's hand in his. He paused a moment before the bright blue door up top, keychain in hand and that same look of concentration on his face, and then he chose a key and unlocked the door.
The moment she stepped over the threshold, Buffy's secret fear that there was no longer room for her in William's life, that he'd moved on for good, disappeared. Unlike the store, his living quarters were stark, almost barren. The pure white walls and near-empty rooms were completely devoid of personality, vacant of all but the barest necessities. The only sign William lived there was the pile of romance books with steamy covers that lay spilled across an end-table. Even when he'd lived in that seedy little apartment in Sunnydale, he'd made it a home. A comfortable home.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess I didn't get around to much decorating before the accident." William peered at the living room in dismay. "S'pose I had a lot to worry about, what with the getting the business up and running."
Buffy took a deep breath. "Maybe..." She reached for his hand, heart hammering in her chest. "Maybe, you know. We could decorate it together."
.
*******
.
"That's it? Everything checks out, have a nice life?"
"Miss Summers, at this point you are both physically and mentally capable of carrying on a normal life. There is nothing more we can do for you here at St. Mark's Hospital." When Buffy made to protest, the doctor's voice lost its edge of sympathy. "There is also the small matter of insurance to discuss..."
"Right. I'll just... see myself out."
"A nurse will see you to the front door, like any other patient," the doctor said brusquely. "Now, as I was saying. You should be pleased with your progress. You've awoken from a weeks-long coma with no after-effects other than some missing memories. If those memories don't return on their own, I'm sure Doctor Crane will be able to help you. Give him a call and set up an appointment as soon as you can." Buffy smiled faintly. "And be sure to stop by accounts payable on your way out. The sooner you take care of these things, the easier it will be."
"Thanks..." The doctor turned and strode purposefully away. "... for nothing." With a sigh, she dodged out of sight of the nurses and made her way to William's room.
She peeked her head in and saw him sitting in his bed, staring morosely at the lunch tray on his lap. When he saw her, he broke out in a smile. "Hey there. You free of this place?"
Buffy thought of the bill waiting to be settled. "I don't think I'll ever be free. But what's going on with you? You get a walking cast today, right?"
William speared a green bean and watched it droop down his fork. "There's something to look forward to." He wriggled his toes, just barely visible in the plaster cast suspended above the bed. When Buffy remained in the doorway, he patted the space beside his other thigh and said, "Sit with me a bit? It does me good to see you up and about."
"Missed me, huh?"
"Always." He gave her a wicked grin. "But I'm going to miss bullying the nurses into wheeling me to your bedside so I could see for myself whether you'd woken up yet. That was good for a bit of excitement in an otherwise dull day."
"You're just going to have to get your kicks some other way."
William leaned back into his upraised bed, hands laced behind his head, and slowly stretched first one shoulder and then the other. "Think I can talk the nurses into a game of strip poker?"
"Not if you don't want me to break your other leg!"
He pouted in mock-disappointment. "At least there's my daily sponge bath."
Buffy shifted uneasily beside him. William loved her, she knew that. She was also certain he knew she loved him in return. But was he still in love with her? Times like this, she couldn't be sure. Asking him where they stood - well, it wasn't going to happen today.
"Willow's coming to pick me up. She'll probably be here any minute. I don't want to keep her waiting."
His face fell. "Oh. Right." He stabbed another green bean, and she hauled herself to her feet. "Buffy - pet?"
"Yeah?"
Eyes trained on his plate, William said, "Don't know what your plans are now that - well, now that everything's different. But Temecula's a nice enough town. Could be a good fit for you." He poked at the jello with his fork. "I've got a sweet little setup, only I can't say as it's perfect. Not yet."
"Oh?"
"Something's missing."
"What..." Buffy swallowed. "What's that?"
He raised his eyes. "You."
.
*******
.
Monitors beeped. Machines hisses. Slowly, the sounds of a hospital going about its business intruded on the fog of her consciousness. Buffy came to with a choked gasp, grappling frantically with the tubes blocking her airway. Ignoring the unpleasant slithering sensation in her chest, she yanked the foreign material from her mouth and hurled it away. Around her, machines beeped spastically. She flung an arm out and connected with something hard, silencing the noise.
Exhausted, she lay panting in the darkened room.
Name: Buffy. Check.
Location: hospital. Check.
Reason I'm here:
Gotta... gotta get...
A wave of panic washed over her, dragging her back down into the fog. She fought it, breath coming in short, painful gasps.
Gotta... gotta see...
With a monumental effort, she sat upright. Her limbs felt sluggish, heavy, and her mouth seemed stuffed with cotton. With movements like melted taffy, she pulled the remaining tubes and monitors from her body, then pushed herself to her feet.
Gotta... Dawn. Dawn. Xander. William.
Willow?
Buffy staggered to the doorway. Somewhere around the corner to her left, she heard a voice she'd known once, a long time ago. "Did you do this to Blondiebear, Willow?" it screeched. "He's all human and yeesh! Yeesh!" There was a quiet murmur, and then, "Shanshu? Guess that explains why he screamed like a little girl when I offered to fix his problem. My poor, platinum baby. Oooh, I bet Angel's pissed, huh?"
She turned towards the familiar voice, hoping it would have answers for her despite the earsplitting decibel level and the fact that she couldn't make heads or tails of what was being said. But then she heard, "Bloody hell! Watch where you're putting that thing!" from the other direction, and her feet automatically swiveled towards the sound.
Holding the wall for support, she lurched down the hall, following the siren song of a loud and belligerent Englishman.
"The psychotic bint startled me, that's all. I don't need a bleedin' sedative, I need you to screen my visitors a little better. Keep the lunatics out. It's not like I can defend myself here, done up as I am!"
"William," she whispered, and staggered through the doorway.
In slow-motion, William froze mid-gesticulation. His head pivoted towards her, expression incredulous. "Buffy?"
"Buffy!" he repeated, and began a wild effort to untangle himself from the rigging holding his leg aloft. "Buffy!" he said again. "God, Buffy, you're okay - No! Get off me, you witch, let me go - I was so worried about you, sweetheart -"
Buffy managed to dodge her away around the increasingly irate nurse and made it to William's bedside. "What happened to you - are you okay - why are we here?"
"Shh, love, come here - I need to -" He reached for her with both hands, elbowing the nurse in the process, and pulled her onto the bed with him. Buffy's head swam sickeningly, and her pulse raced in her ears. "Shh," he said again, pulling her closer. "God, I -" William held her face in his hands, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. His eyes filled with tears. "Buffy," he said, and kissed her.
It was a gentle kiss, no more than a soft brush of his lips on hers, but it felt like coming home. Buffy collapsed onto William's chest, and his arms clamped around her, making her breath whoosh out of her lungs.
Another nurse burst into the room, a look of steely determination on her face. "Now, William, you need to calm down. Miss Summers needs the doctor, and -"
William grabbed the tray from his bedside table, sending half-empty plates crashing around the room, and wielded it like a weapon. "Back off! She's not going anywhere." Buffy clung more tightly to him, focusing on the sound of his heartbeat. "Watch it, love. They like to jab you when you're not looking. Oi! I see that needle, you fiendish old hag! Stay -"
When Buffy came to this time, her head felt worse than ever, but at least there were only minimal wires keeping her in place. She eased herself up, and spotted a blurry shape topped by copper in the corner of the room. "Willow?"
"Buffy! That was some scene you caused earlier. Doctors and nurses running everywhere!"
She sank back into the bed. "What happened? What am I doing here?"
"What do you remember?"
Buffy struggled against endless shrouds of nothing. There was something - a flash? - and then it was gone. Her head pounded, and she rolled to the side, certain she was about to vomit. When the feeling passed, she managed a dry whisper. "Nothing. I don't remember a thing."
"At all?" Willow's panicked voice sounded by her ear. "Not your name, or who you are? You're not feeling the urge to call yourself 'Joan', are you?"
"Huh?" Buffy shook her head, then froze when it made the pounding worse. "No. Got the name part down. Drawing a great big zero on what landed me here."
"Oh. Whew! 'Cause otherwise, not good, and..." Willow drifted off. "You... were in a fight. Someone attacked you guys. Ring any bells?"
She thought back, but one overriding image stood out in painful clarity, obscuring every other memory. "Dawn..." Buffy's throat constricted. She swallowed, hot tears dripping off the end of her nose, and felt a cool hand brush her hair back. "Dawn's really..."
Willow withdrew. "I'm sorry." Her voice took on a frantic edge. "I tried to save her, you know that right? I really did, Buffy."
Tried to save her? Buffy squinted, confused. "How could you have? The cancer - there was no - no saving her."
For a brief moment, Buffy felt something pushing at the edge of her mind, almost like an alien presence, and then it was gone. Willow took her hand. "I'm so, so sorry, Buffy. First your mom, then Dawn..."
"And - oh, god. Xander too? Please, no, tell me I'm remembering wrong..."
Willow let out a choked sob and clutched a pendant around her neck, her face a mask of distress.
Buffy closed her eyes. It was too much. Too much.
I'd like my coma back, please.
She listened to Willow crying quietly, but her own tears had fled, insufficient for expressing the agony she felt. Instead, a blessed numbness descended. Numb was good. Numb let her poke at the shape of her past without actually feeling it. Dawn - then Xander - then... nothing.
Still nothing.
"What happened after... that?" she asked when Willow had quieted into a silent stare, one hand still at her chest.
"You really don't remember?" Buffy shook her head, slowly and carefully. To move too much might rupture the blankness cocooning her. "Last I saw you, William was driving you home. After we left the hospital. You guys walked me inside, and then you left. They think you were mugged outside your apartment," Willow said. "But nobody really knows. Except you two."
"Does William -"
"No. He can't remember either."
Buffy closed her eyes. It didn't help. "I need to see him."
"I know," Willow said, her words low and soothing. "But not just yet. Okay? Try to rest a bit more first."
She'd been resting. For days, maybe longer. She needed to do something. "I..." But the numbness, the lassitude was too tempting. "Okay... just for a bit," she said, and willingly drifted off into the grey.
Later, when she insisted she was well enough to travel the short distance to William's room, it was a stony-faced nurse who wheeled her there at the doctor's order. The one William had clocked with his elbow. "I'm really sorry?" Buffy offered, feeling like a naughty two-year old.
The nurse didn't answer. She parked Buffy at William's bedside and marched back out of the room, the mottled bruising on her right cheekbone livid under the fluorescent lights. William winced. "Don't think she's going to forgive me any time soon. And she's the one what does all the jabbing with needles." He looked mournful. "Have a feeling the next time they order blood work, it won't be half so pleasant."
Buffy sat in her chair, twisting her hands and watching William from beneath her lashes. Despite their earlier reunion, she felt unsure of herself. The antiseptic smell and bright, cheerful walls made everything more than a little surreal, and set against their surroundings and the false calm she'd carefully nurtured, William seemed almost a stranger to her.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, pointing at his leg.
"Only a little." She raised an eyebrow. "Fine, it hurts like a bitch, but..." He lowered his voice. "Willow's been sneaking me some kind of herbal concoction. Dunno what all she's got in it, she was babbling on about comfrey and bone break and who knows what, but it does the trick. Makes the pain bearable enough I don't need the morphine. And the docs are mighty impressed with how fast I'm healing. I put it down to being a superior specimen, myself." He winked at her. "Good breeding."
Buffy rolled her eyes, but she smiled. "And what about the rest of you? Willow said you don't remember what happened."
William rubbed absently at the bandaging around his chest. "Didn't remember much of anything when I first woke up. It was all kind of foggy. Distant." She nodded in commiseration. "But Willow stopped by soon after, and it was like a deluge, everything coming at me. My past, you. There were still some holes. Bits that were unclear. More of them resolved when Skip showed the next day."
"Skip?"
"My assistant manager. Thank god for him, or my store would be belly-up now, eh?"
She frowned. William... with a store? Did she remember this? It seemed like it. Sort of.
"When he stopped by, I remembered my new place, all that. A few things are still hazy, but the only real blank I'm drawing is what happened to put us in here. Doc says that's normal, so..." He shrugged. "I'm not complaining. Well, I am. But that's just 'cause it's more fun than lying here all meek and proper."
This time, Buffy laughed out loud. "And what else have you been doing to pass the time besides being a royal pain in the ass?"
He held up a remote. "Passions is on in five."
.
*******
.
Buffy drew a deep, shuddering breath. No matter how she tried, she couldn't go any earlier than the day she'd woken up in the hospital. Not without skipping back too far - and those weren't memories she was keen to revisit. She'd rather have the dreams than relive that awful night.
Dawn, exhaling quietly one last time, victim of the same cancer that had stolen their mother. Xander turning away, his one good eye vacant and hopeless. Finding him face-up on the bedroom floor of their apartment later that night, an empty bottle of Dawn's pain pills still in one hand. Sirens. An ambulance careening wildly. The hospital, sympathetic but rushed medical personnel, more paperwork.
So much paperwork.
Willow, her own eyes empty, almost black.
William taking her by the hand.
William led her out the front doors. Into the darkness.
The shadows moved. Danced. Attacked.
"William!" she screamed. Clad in black from head to foot, leather coat swirling as he danced, he was a shadow himself.
"Don't blame me. It's the witch you want."
"What?"
He drove her away from the light. Vicious blows stained his knuckles crimson. "She stole the chalk."
"I don't understand." Her shoulders slammed into something hard and cold.
"You must free me," a voice rasped behind her.
Buffy whirled. On the other side of the bars crouched a feral woman wrapped in rags, desert-black skin slashed with white clay. "Death is my gift. Free me."
"I don't understand," she said again.
"The witch has the key. Long live the witch."
All around her, the monsters took up the chant of Long live the witch.
Eyes glowing red, she snarled and rattled her cage.
.
PART THREE
.
Title: Palimpsest (Part Two)
Rating: R
Setting: Post-series AU (could be mid-S9)
Warnings: Grab your tissues. At least - I hope you need them! :)
A/N: I wrote this a year ago in preparation for the next round of Seasonal Spuffy... but Seasonal Spuffy has gone on hiatus. Meanwhile, S10 keeps getting more and more Scooby-friendship friendly, unlike S9. This is much closer to S9's mood.
A/N2: Written to go off-canon sometime mid-S9, but also written so that comic knowledge is mostly unnecessary (except for a few small jokes).
A/N3: Thanks to foxstarreh and margueritedaisy for beta work, and foxstarreh for being my S9 encyclopedia so that I didn't have to actually buy or read the comics. :)
PART ONE HERE
Palimpsest: 1) A parchment or the like from which the writing has been partially or completely erased and replaced with new writing. 2) Something that has been changed over time and shows evidence of that change. (Merriam-Webster Online)
PART TWO
I dropped my board in the water and the chalk all ran. Sure to be caned.
- Spike (Lessons)
.
.
William's evil doppelganger might have stopped haunting her dreams, supplanted as he was by Willow, but that didn't mean she was free from Spike.
Buffy had once watched a movie where the main character, driven half-insane by insomnia, had been able to see the secret, sinister world normally hidden by the mundane, human one. She was pretty sure there was no secret world full of things that went bump in the night, but she figured she had the half-insane part down, no problem. Sometimes, when she glanced over at William, she'd be shocked to see his hair light brown and loosely curled about his head rather than in the shape of a peroxided blond helmet. More than once, she caught herself mentally planning a trip to the butcher to pick him up some blood. Worst of all was the time she'd seen - seen - smoke curling up off of his skin as he weeded beside her under the morning sun. Heart hammering, she'd shoved him into the shadows with the strength of a woman possessed. William had complained about the minor case of deafness her screams had given him only slightly less than he'd whined over the gravel she'd had to dig out of his hands and knees after.
"I can see why this Spike fellow calls you Slayer," he'd said, but she hadn't been able to laugh, not even a bare chuckle. Her sense of humor had reached an all-time low.
It was the day after that when she'd called Dr. Crane and asked him to tell her more about vampires and demons. Maybe the old coot wasn't so crazy after all - or maybe she was just crazy enough to want to believe him.
His response had left Buffy even less sure of her sanity. "Vampires? No matter how vivid your nightmares, how realistic, I can assure you there's no such thing. No, they're merely a symbolic representation of your trauma."
"But..." But you're the one who brought it up, Buffy wanted to scream. You're the one who suggested we'd had an encounter with vampires.
"Yes, yes, I know vampires have been all the rage lately. They quite took over popular culture, so much so even I gave them credence for a short while. That Harmony Kendall was quite convincing, wasn't she? She's been discredited, though. They all have." He chuckled. "As if a vampire would compete on Dancing with the Stars."
Buffy wasn't sure if she was relieved, or more frightened for her sanity than ever.
"So what do I do? How do I make this stop, Doc? Cause to be honest, I can't take much more. Either these dreams have to end, or the memories have to come out. Now."
She could hear him rifling through his books. "Perhaps we could try regression hypnotherapy again. Say, two weeks from Monday?" Buffy gave her agreement, not even bothering to check her calendar. "Very good. In the meantime, I suggest meditation. Remove all distractions, clear your mind. See what happens."
Meditation wasn't really her style - give her ten minutes with a punching bag instead - but she was willing to give it a shot.
Anything, at this point.
.
*******
.
Meditation really wasn't her style.
Buffy flopped onto her back, exhausted after only a few minutes of soothing breaths and peaceful thoughts. Maybe she could try regressing her memories herself?
Still on her back, she closed her eyes. Yesterday. What happened yesterday?
She winced. Yesterday was so not a good place to start. Yesterday, she'd woken from her usual nightmares, but this time Angel had joined the fray. Like William, the nightmare version of her high school boyfriend had sported the telltale forehead ridges and yellow eyes of a vampire. Only it hadn't been Buffy he'd been after, it had been her friends. Her family. Her - Giles.
Giles with a broken neck, staring sightlessly, and -
Nope. Not starting there.
Better to start closer to the accident. Not like there was anything wrong with her short-term memory, after all. No, she'd start with...
.
*******
.
"He's free to go? Really?"
"Really," said the doctor, her smile a mixture of irritation and indulgence. "William has a clean bill of health. So long as he keeps up his physical therapy, I expect a full recovery."
"And his..." Buffy waggled her fingers at her head.
"Is your memory loss affecting your ability to function?"
Buffy was quick to deny it. She didn't want to give the nice doctor any reason to stick her back in the hospital. "Fit as a fiddle. No problems here!" Thanking the doctor for her time, she turned and made a hasty retreat.
She found William in his hospital room, staring at the bright walls. "Ready?"
"Yeah." He looked around the room. "It's almost come to feel like home. I'm a little bit nervous about what's outside these walls, truth be told."
Pointing at the wheelchair he was to ride in one last time, she said, "Get in. And I don't blame you. You've been here almost two months. Longer, if you count the time you spent playing Sleeping Beauty."
The nurse on duty wished him a fond farewell, but otherwise they made their escape quickly. Buffy left William by the front door and brought his car around. He took one look at her in the driver's seat and, with a show of strength that belied his limp, stalked over to the driver's side and yanked the door open. "I'm not fixing to come back here anytime soon. Out."
"But..."
"Out! I'm driving."
He gave in soon after they'd left San Francisco behind, once the traffic had thinned out and he couldn't hide his exhaustion any longer. Buffy slid into the driver's seat, suppressing the urge to pull out her shiny new learner's permit and show it to him just one more time. But as she neared the turnoff for the crater formerly known as Sunnydale, she found herself flagging, unused to driving long distances. William didn't look much better. Though his eyes were shut, his knuckles were white on his knees. "Maybe we should spend the night somewhere," Buffy said. "Drive the rest tomorrow. It's not like we're in any great rush, right?"
"Thank Christ," William muttered under his breath. He opened his eyes and took in their surroundings, squinting at the road signs as they flashed past. "Sunnyhell's out of the question."
"Eh, we're getting close to Los Angeles. I'm sure there'll be something soon."
Buffy took the first exit promising lodging and found a decent looking motel. Pulling into the parking lot, she felt pretty damn proud of herself, but the feeling dissipated when it came time to check in and the clerk asked whether they wanted a room with one bed or two. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see William studiously avoiding her gaze.
Once upon a time, he would've answered without a moment's hesitation, not even giving Buffy the chance to protest. These days, he was more circumspect. While she appreciated his restraint, it put her in the awkward position of having to be the one to make the first move - and making the first move meant taking a big, scary chance.
She'd managed to speak her heart before the accident, and that had gone all right. Maybe being bold could be a new trend.
"One," Buffy said at the same time as William said, "Two." Startled, he turned to her.
"You sure?" When she nodded, he grinned. "One it is, mate," he said to the clerk, eyes still glued to Buffy.
The clerk rolled his eyes, but neither of them paid him any attention.
By unspoken agreement, they did no more than cuddle up together in their room with a single bed. Buffy laid her head on his shoulder, her hand stroking William's chest. "This is nice. Much more roomy than your hospital bed. Tell me you have a king size waiting for us at home?"
She cringed inwardly, mortified by her inadvertent wording, but relaxed when his only answer was a light snore. While he might have mentioned hoping she'd move to Temecula, he hadn't actually asked her to move in with him. Maybe he wasn't ready for that yet. Maybe she wasn't ready for that, yet. For once, William was the one with a life, a purpose, and she was the hanger-on.
It wasn't a very comfortable feeling.
Sitting next to William as he navigated the sunny streets of his new hometown the following morning, her sense of displacement only grew stronger. He pulled up in front of his store-slash-apartment with a confidence and surety that magnified her own disquiet. "Here we are, love. My very own home sweet home."
Buffy examined the storefront, and was surprised to find William doing the same, a small crease between his brows. "Something wrong?"
"Huh?" He shook his head. "Been so long since I've been here, almost feels like a dream, you know? Bit surreal." William climbed out slowly, favoring his left leg. "Come on, I'll show you around."
The door of the shop burst open and a young man came rushing out. "William! You're back! Does this mean I can finally take that vacation you promised me?" He winked and flashed Buffy a smile.
"All right, mate, don't get ahead of yourself." William paused a moment, an intense look of concentration on his face. "Trevor."
Trevor smiled again. "So glad to have you back, man. Everybody's missed you."
"Been slacking off, you mean." William wrapped his arm around Buffy's shoulder and ushered her inside the busy store. After a perfunctory tour, Trevor shooed them back outside, around to the stairs in back, claiming his boss looked like death warmed over and would scare off the customers.
William smiled gratefully and climbed the steps, Buffy's hand in his. He paused a moment before the bright blue door up top, keychain in hand and that same look of concentration on his face, and then he chose a key and unlocked the door.
The moment she stepped over the threshold, Buffy's secret fear that there was no longer room for her in William's life, that he'd moved on for good, disappeared. Unlike the store, his living quarters were stark, almost barren. The pure white walls and near-empty rooms were completely devoid of personality, vacant of all but the barest necessities. The only sign William lived there was the pile of romance books with steamy covers that lay spilled across an end-table. Even when he'd lived in that seedy little apartment in Sunnydale, he'd made it a home. A comfortable home.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess I didn't get around to much decorating before the accident." William peered at the living room in dismay. "S'pose I had a lot to worry about, what with the getting the business up and running."
Buffy took a deep breath. "Maybe..." She reached for his hand, heart hammering in her chest. "Maybe, you know. We could decorate it together."
.
*******
.
"That's it? Everything checks out, have a nice life?"
"Miss Summers, at this point you are both physically and mentally capable of carrying on a normal life. There is nothing more we can do for you here at St. Mark's Hospital." When Buffy made to protest, the doctor's voice lost its edge of sympathy. "There is also the small matter of insurance to discuss..."
"Right. I'll just... see myself out."
"A nurse will see you to the front door, like any other patient," the doctor said brusquely. "Now, as I was saying. You should be pleased with your progress. You've awoken from a weeks-long coma with no after-effects other than some missing memories. If those memories don't return on their own, I'm sure Doctor Crane will be able to help you. Give him a call and set up an appointment as soon as you can." Buffy smiled faintly. "And be sure to stop by accounts payable on your way out. The sooner you take care of these things, the easier it will be."
"Thanks..." The doctor turned and strode purposefully away. "... for nothing." With a sigh, she dodged out of sight of the nurses and made her way to William's room.
She peeked her head in and saw him sitting in his bed, staring morosely at the lunch tray on his lap. When he saw her, he broke out in a smile. "Hey there. You free of this place?"
Buffy thought of the bill waiting to be settled. "I don't think I'll ever be free. But what's going on with you? You get a walking cast today, right?"
William speared a green bean and watched it droop down his fork. "There's something to look forward to." He wriggled his toes, just barely visible in the plaster cast suspended above the bed. When Buffy remained in the doorway, he patted the space beside his other thigh and said, "Sit with me a bit? It does me good to see you up and about."
"Missed me, huh?"
"Always." He gave her a wicked grin. "But I'm going to miss bullying the nurses into wheeling me to your bedside so I could see for myself whether you'd woken up yet. That was good for a bit of excitement in an otherwise dull day."
"You're just going to have to get your kicks some other way."
William leaned back into his upraised bed, hands laced behind his head, and slowly stretched first one shoulder and then the other. "Think I can talk the nurses into a game of strip poker?"
"Not if you don't want me to break your other leg!"
He pouted in mock-disappointment. "At least there's my daily sponge bath."
Buffy shifted uneasily beside him. William loved her, she knew that. She was also certain he knew she loved him in return. But was he still in love with her? Times like this, she couldn't be sure. Asking him where they stood - well, it wasn't going to happen today.
"Willow's coming to pick me up. She'll probably be here any minute. I don't want to keep her waiting."
His face fell. "Oh. Right." He stabbed another green bean, and she hauled herself to her feet. "Buffy - pet?"
"Yeah?"
Eyes trained on his plate, William said, "Don't know what your plans are now that - well, now that everything's different. But Temecula's a nice enough town. Could be a good fit for you." He poked at the jello with his fork. "I've got a sweet little setup, only I can't say as it's perfect. Not yet."
"Oh?"
"Something's missing."
"What..." Buffy swallowed. "What's that?"
He raised his eyes. "You."
.
*******
.
Monitors beeped. Machines hisses. Slowly, the sounds of a hospital going about its business intruded on the fog of her consciousness. Buffy came to with a choked gasp, grappling frantically with the tubes blocking her airway. Ignoring the unpleasant slithering sensation in her chest, she yanked the foreign material from her mouth and hurled it away. Around her, machines beeped spastically. She flung an arm out and connected with something hard, silencing the noise.
Exhausted, she lay panting in the darkened room.
Name: Buffy. Check.
Location: hospital. Check.
Reason I'm here:
Gotta... gotta get...
A wave of panic washed over her, dragging her back down into the fog. She fought it, breath coming in short, painful gasps.
Gotta... gotta see...
With a monumental effort, she sat upright. Her limbs felt sluggish, heavy, and her mouth seemed stuffed with cotton. With movements like melted taffy, she pulled the remaining tubes and monitors from her body, then pushed herself to her feet.
Gotta... Dawn. Dawn. Xander. William.
Willow?
Buffy staggered to the doorway. Somewhere around the corner to her left, she heard a voice she'd known once, a long time ago. "Did you do this to Blondiebear, Willow?" it screeched. "He's all human and yeesh! Yeesh!" There was a quiet murmur, and then, "Shanshu? Guess that explains why he screamed like a little girl when I offered to fix his problem. My poor, platinum baby. Oooh, I bet Angel's pissed, huh?"
She turned towards the familiar voice, hoping it would have answers for her despite the earsplitting decibel level and the fact that she couldn't make heads or tails of what was being said. But then she heard, "Bloody hell! Watch where you're putting that thing!" from the other direction, and her feet automatically swiveled towards the sound.
Holding the wall for support, she lurched down the hall, following the siren song of a loud and belligerent Englishman.
"The psychotic bint startled me, that's all. I don't need a bleedin' sedative, I need you to screen my visitors a little better. Keep the lunatics out. It's not like I can defend myself here, done up as I am!"
"William," she whispered, and staggered through the doorway.
In slow-motion, William froze mid-gesticulation. His head pivoted towards her, expression incredulous. "Buffy?"
"Buffy!" he repeated, and began a wild effort to untangle himself from the rigging holding his leg aloft. "Buffy!" he said again. "God, Buffy, you're okay - No! Get off me, you witch, let me go - I was so worried about you, sweetheart -"
Buffy managed to dodge her away around the increasingly irate nurse and made it to William's bedside. "What happened to you - are you okay - why are we here?"
"Shh, love, come here - I need to -" He reached for her with both hands, elbowing the nurse in the process, and pulled her onto the bed with him. Buffy's head swam sickeningly, and her pulse raced in her ears. "Shh," he said again, pulling her closer. "God, I -" William held her face in his hands, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. His eyes filled with tears. "Buffy," he said, and kissed her.
It was a gentle kiss, no more than a soft brush of his lips on hers, but it felt like coming home. Buffy collapsed onto William's chest, and his arms clamped around her, making her breath whoosh out of her lungs.
Another nurse burst into the room, a look of steely determination on her face. "Now, William, you need to calm down. Miss Summers needs the doctor, and -"
William grabbed the tray from his bedside table, sending half-empty plates crashing around the room, and wielded it like a weapon. "Back off! She's not going anywhere." Buffy clung more tightly to him, focusing on the sound of his heartbeat. "Watch it, love. They like to jab you when you're not looking. Oi! I see that needle, you fiendish old hag! Stay -"
When Buffy came to this time, her head felt worse than ever, but at least there were only minimal wires keeping her in place. She eased herself up, and spotted a blurry shape topped by copper in the corner of the room. "Willow?"
"Buffy! That was some scene you caused earlier. Doctors and nurses running everywhere!"
She sank back into the bed. "What happened? What am I doing here?"
"What do you remember?"
Buffy struggled against endless shrouds of nothing. There was something - a flash? - and then it was gone. Her head pounded, and she rolled to the side, certain she was about to vomit. When the feeling passed, she managed a dry whisper. "Nothing. I don't remember a thing."
"At all?" Willow's panicked voice sounded by her ear. "Not your name, or who you are? You're not feeling the urge to call yourself 'Joan', are you?"
"Huh?" Buffy shook her head, then froze when it made the pounding worse. "No. Got the name part down. Drawing a great big zero on what landed me here."
"Oh. Whew! 'Cause otherwise, not good, and..." Willow drifted off. "You... were in a fight. Someone attacked you guys. Ring any bells?"
She thought back, but one overriding image stood out in painful clarity, obscuring every other memory. "Dawn..." Buffy's throat constricted. She swallowed, hot tears dripping off the end of her nose, and felt a cool hand brush her hair back. "Dawn's really..."
Willow withdrew. "I'm sorry." Her voice took on a frantic edge. "I tried to save her, you know that right? I really did, Buffy."
Tried to save her? Buffy squinted, confused. "How could you have? The cancer - there was no - no saving her."
For a brief moment, Buffy felt something pushing at the edge of her mind, almost like an alien presence, and then it was gone. Willow took her hand. "I'm so, so sorry, Buffy. First your mom, then Dawn..."
"And - oh, god. Xander too? Please, no, tell me I'm remembering wrong..."
Willow let out a choked sob and clutched a pendant around her neck, her face a mask of distress.
Buffy closed her eyes. It was too much. Too much.
I'd like my coma back, please.
She listened to Willow crying quietly, but her own tears had fled, insufficient for expressing the agony she felt. Instead, a blessed numbness descended. Numb was good. Numb let her poke at the shape of her past without actually feeling it. Dawn - then Xander - then... nothing.
Still nothing.
"What happened after... that?" she asked when Willow had quieted into a silent stare, one hand still at her chest.
"You really don't remember?" Buffy shook her head, slowly and carefully. To move too much might rupture the blankness cocooning her. "Last I saw you, William was driving you home. After we left the hospital. You guys walked me inside, and then you left. They think you were mugged outside your apartment," Willow said. "But nobody really knows. Except you two."
"Does William -"
"No. He can't remember either."
Buffy closed her eyes. It didn't help. "I need to see him."
"I know," Willow said, her words low and soothing. "But not just yet. Okay? Try to rest a bit more first."
She'd been resting. For days, maybe longer. She needed to do something. "I..." But the numbness, the lassitude was too tempting. "Okay... just for a bit," she said, and willingly drifted off into the grey.
Later, when she insisted she was well enough to travel the short distance to William's room, it was a stony-faced nurse who wheeled her there at the doctor's order. The one William had clocked with his elbow. "I'm really sorry?" Buffy offered, feeling like a naughty two-year old.
The nurse didn't answer. She parked Buffy at William's bedside and marched back out of the room, the mottled bruising on her right cheekbone livid under the fluorescent lights. William winced. "Don't think she's going to forgive me any time soon. And she's the one what does all the jabbing with needles." He looked mournful. "Have a feeling the next time they order blood work, it won't be half so pleasant."
Buffy sat in her chair, twisting her hands and watching William from beneath her lashes. Despite their earlier reunion, she felt unsure of herself. The antiseptic smell and bright, cheerful walls made everything more than a little surreal, and set against their surroundings and the false calm she'd carefully nurtured, William seemed almost a stranger to her.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, pointing at his leg.
"Only a little." She raised an eyebrow. "Fine, it hurts like a bitch, but..." He lowered his voice. "Willow's been sneaking me some kind of herbal concoction. Dunno what all she's got in it, she was babbling on about comfrey and bone break and who knows what, but it does the trick. Makes the pain bearable enough I don't need the morphine. And the docs are mighty impressed with how fast I'm healing. I put it down to being a superior specimen, myself." He winked at her. "Good breeding."
Buffy rolled her eyes, but she smiled. "And what about the rest of you? Willow said you don't remember what happened."
William rubbed absently at the bandaging around his chest. "Didn't remember much of anything when I first woke up. It was all kind of foggy. Distant." She nodded in commiseration. "But Willow stopped by soon after, and it was like a deluge, everything coming at me. My past, you. There were still some holes. Bits that were unclear. More of them resolved when Skip showed the next day."
"Skip?"
"My assistant manager. Thank god for him, or my store would be belly-up now, eh?"
She frowned. William... with a store? Did she remember this? It seemed like it. Sort of.
"When he stopped by, I remembered my new place, all that. A few things are still hazy, but the only real blank I'm drawing is what happened to put us in here. Doc says that's normal, so..." He shrugged. "I'm not complaining. Well, I am. But that's just 'cause it's more fun than lying here all meek and proper."
This time, Buffy laughed out loud. "And what else have you been doing to pass the time besides being a royal pain in the ass?"
He held up a remote. "Passions is on in five."
.
*******
.
Buffy drew a deep, shuddering breath. No matter how she tried, she couldn't go any earlier than the day she'd woken up in the hospital. Not without skipping back too far - and those weren't memories she was keen to revisit. She'd rather have the dreams than relive that awful night.
Dawn, exhaling quietly one last time, victim of the same cancer that had stolen their mother. Xander turning away, his one good eye vacant and hopeless. Finding him face-up on the bedroom floor of their apartment later that night, an empty bottle of Dawn's pain pills still in one hand. Sirens. An ambulance careening wildly. The hospital, sympathetic but rushed medical personnel, more paperwork.
So much paperwork.
Willow, her own eyes empty, almost black.
William taking her by the hand.
William led her out the front doors. Into the darkness.
The shadows moved. Danced. Attacked.
"William!" she screamed. Clad in black from head to foot, leather coat swirling as he danced, he was a shadow himself.
"Don't blame me. It's the witch you want."
"What?"
He drove her away from the light. Vicious blows stained his knuckles crimson. "She stole the chalk."
"I don't understand." Her shoulders slammed into something hard and cold.
"You must free me," a voice rasped behind her.
Buffy whirled. On the other side of the bars crouched a feral woman wrapped in rags, desert-black skin slashed with white clay. "Death is my gift. Free me."
"I don't understand," she said again.
"The witch has the key. Long live the witch."
All around her, the monsters took up the chant of Long live the witch.
Eyes glowing red, she snarled and rattled her cage.
.
PART THREE
.