Title: More
Author: Elizabeth Wilde (star_)
Genre: vignette
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Summary: Semi-prequel to my fic "Different Roads." A very different Buffy talks to a very different Xander. Inspired by the episode "Normal Again."
Distribution: Anyone who already archives my fic, anyone who asks me, .net/wilde [my site]
Completed: March 22, 2009
"You can be more." He can tell that she means the words. She seems upset, so he tries harder than usual to focus on the meaning of the phrases as she speaks to him. "You don't have to be like this."
He wants to tell her that she's wrong, that he doesn't remember anything but the walls of his room and the orderlies. There's no point, and he stays silent. It's easier that way. When he used to try and speak, it always disappointed someone or made someone angry. Now he's quiet all the time. It's easier for him and everyone else. Only one orderly ever really seems to want him to talk anyway.
His gaze sweeps back to the girl, though his head remains stationary. She's pretty. She comes to his room sometimes. He thinks she doesn't have many friends. Or any at all. He doesn't either. That's alright too. They'd just want him to talk.
Today she seems more upset than usual, more skittish. He watches her eyes dart around as if someone might be listening in. And they might be. Everyone watches. The doctors watch, the orderlies watch, the nurses watch. Even the other patients watch. She bites her full lower lip and shakes her head. "It shouldn't be like this. We're more than this."
He wonders if she missed her medication that day. It happens. They fall through the cracks. He always gets his because William always brings it. William takes care of him. Maybe Buffy doesn't take care of herself. Maybe no one looks out for her. He wonders about that but says nothing. She'll leave when she gets frustrated. She does it at least twice a week. Sometimes she seems sad, sometimes angry. Today she seems nervous. Cornered. She wants to get out. He wonders if she's smart enough to fool them, smart enough to get away. He isn't.
He supposes that some people really do get cured, but he doesn't expect to be one of them. No one tries to cure him. William tries to get him to talk. William watches him, but it's different from the way the girl watches him. Either way, he knows that the asylum is home or the closest thing he's likely to have to one. He thinks about telling the girl that it isn't so bad. But it is.
She paces some more, mumbles, "I'm sorry," and then she's gone. She can't take the silence anymore.
Some days neither can he.