(Notes- Someone asked me to post the old chapters of this fic, please note I wrote all this about 5 years ago and these 5 chapters are all I wrote so please don't ask for any more)

…..

"There are only two mistakes one can make on the road to truth, not going all the way and not starting." - Buddha

BPOV

"Oh Mom, isn't that enough?", I pretended to whine as I revelled in every single second of the attention.

"Just one more honey, it's not every day you go to your prom", she said as she took yet more photos of me. The joy of digital cameras.

I had spent hours getting ready as tonight I really wanted to wow my date. To show her how much effort I had taken to look as pretty as I could for her but at the same time I wanted to fulfil my dream of being the belle of the ball.

I wore my hair in an up-do which I had to bribe Nicki at the salon to stay open longer for just so she could do it. I kept my make-up subtle as I didn't want to draw attention away from my allowance sapping tear drop pendant on a thin silver chain with matching earrings. They both caught in the light and I knew that I looked perfect.

My skin positively tingled as I paced up and down in my white floor length Chanel gown set off with my white open toed heels and elbow length satin evening gloves. I shivered with glee as I knew I was ready.

"Buffy, you look beautiful", said Giles with so much pride beaming from his loving smile.

I felt so alive, so pretty.

I stood in the living room buzzing with joy running through the night's plans. The limo, the corsage, the dance, being voted prom queen and finally, the tender goodnight kiss.

The doorbell rang stripping me of my fantasy.

Here she was!

My date, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, someone who loved Buffy. And only Buffy.

Mom and Giles stood next to each other at the bottom of the stairs.

"Buffy, it's time to go", Mom said with an unusual strain to her voice.

I frowned a little at her words but still I eagerly opened the door but when I went out I saw nothing.

Nothing but darkness.

I nervously took a step forward into the black to meet the one I loved but still I saw only the night.

As the front door slammed behind me a thousand camera flashes went off in my face blinding me to the crowd who had gathered outside my house. When my eyes had returned to normal I saw everyone from the entire school, from the cheerleaders to the Principal to the janitors. All pointing and laughing at me. They spat on me and called me a freak, a faggot, a mistake. They came closer and closer as they chanted their words of hate directed at me, and only me.

I backed up to the door and banged on it, begging to be allowed back in. Away from the taunts and the misery.

"Please Mom, let me in!" I screamed through my tears as the first of the jagged rocks carried by this mob slammed into the door above my head.

In the window by the side of the door I saw the disgusted looks of both Mom and Giles.

"Please, let me back in. I'm Buffy. I'm your daughter"

They stared at me as their lips cruelly twisted.

"Sorry, you must be mistaken. We have no daughter", they stated flatly and closed the drapes.

Leaving me alone.

Against the world.

NPOV

Buffy awoke gasping for air as her hospital gown, now soaked with sweat, clung to her body. The nightmare had shaken her to the core as her lungs battled for relief and her pounding heartbeat reverberated through her ears. Her sheets ensnaring her lithe kicking legs only made her feel even more trapped as consciousness bore it's stained teeth and bit into her dream state wrenching her free of her slumbering distress.

Looking around her she fought to find her senses that had been in full revolution against her but as she regained control of her mind she was thankful that she had only had a dream and dreams were meaningless, right?

That's when she noticed her isolation in the obviously expensive private hospital room. The TV lay quiet with its latent mischief yet to be unveiled, and the view from the window just showed the hideous structural deformity that was now commonplace in modern building developments. The gentle hum of the fluorescent lighting was to be her only companion for now.

She sat in a daze as a chill ran over her skin and war drums tuned up in her head. Reality was still on a commercial break but within moments 'The Buffy Show' had restarted but this time in HD as a little bile caressed the back of her throat to accompany her dread as the previous night's scenes returned with startling clarity.

She slipped a delicate hand across her sore eyes as a thousand unintentionally rhetorical questions ricocheted through her mind.

BPOV

Did that really happen yesterday? Did Mom and Giles really see me as her? Would they now accept Buffy as their new family? What if they didn't and were only saying it just because it's what I needed to hear? God, how much are they going to hate me for what I did?

But I did it didn't I.

I admitted to Mom that I wanted to be a girl. What should have been the most joyous, freeing moment of my life was tarnished by the guilt at how much anguish I had heaped upon her. And Giles.

As Brian, his all-consuming misery had picked and torn at my bones until I was nothing but hollow. But as Buffy my guilt and shame for hurting and lying to Mom for so long left me with a deep down churning sickness. And not just through having my stomach pumped.

I was scared that my balloon of self-loathing would now mutate from a frustrated loneliness to an all-consuming guilt. That same emptiness that had plagued me since birth had begun to ebb away but I was scared at what it would be replaced by.

Why couldn't I just wave my magic wand and make everything ok again? To be able to take away Mom's pain would make my own regret ease enough to give me time to clear my mind.

Was that the first stage? Finding the forgiveness of the ones you hurt so you could forgive yourself and start this life anew? What the hell was I going to do? How do I even start?

But will they ever really accept me for who I am, they say they can, that they will, but I know deep down they will hold such a disappointment that will eventually turn into hate. I know I can never be happy within myself, never be free to be me and love myself for all that I am. I am alone no matter what they say.

I'm sure people will try to sympathise but it'll just drive me further into myself, their empathy nothing more than voyeurism, its human nature to look at the freakshow. They can say they're open minded and liberal but once faced with the ugliness that I am, their interest will pass. The next cause celebre will come along in five minutes, all they have to do is wait and soon I would be forgotten and in the past

Out there, in the world, they would never understand or accept, just pity me so my death wouldn't be on their conscience. A small unmarked grave where they would no doubt bury me in a boy's suit, not the denim skirt and lacy vest top I saw in the window of Osmosis. Even in death I wouldn't be able to wear what I couldn't in life.

But I was alive. What did that say about me? Was it because I had a strength deep inside that was yet untapped or was it because even God didn't want me? Even He is disgusted by who and what I am, but I was His screw up. Trapped forever in this body, behind a name in a masculine territory I despised.

My body wracked with the first sobs of the day, which was nothing unusual but this time it was for different reasons. I had at last woken as Buffy but it wasn't the feeling I had fantasised about for so, so long. I understood that the teenage mind had its fair share of angst but that just added to my inner turmoil.

As my hands made their way to my reddening eyes I noticed I still had the deep red varnish on my fingernails from last night. It was still perfect. The only reminder I had to anyone knowing my secret identity. But I had no Batcave to go and hide in.

I got scared. I was out in the real world as a girl... but alone.

I wanted to take it all back. Undo everything. Take back the untold pain I had caused Mom and Giles. That a few simple words could cause such sorrow. And what would Dad do if he was still here? Probably have me on lockdown in a psyche ward on a thorazine drip. Would they send me to live with him? It would be a fate as sickening and hurtful as I deserved, my punishment for all the deceit and pain I had given. If I stabbed myself through the heart with pinking shears would I even bleed? Or would just dust and the remnants of failed dreams spill out, remnants of a life I never would be able to lead.

I was miserable as Brian and hated my life but I am a girl. I can't change that. But did Mom and Giles really deserve finding out like this? No, they didn't. I'm such an idiot.

As the first tears brimmed my eyes I felt the bile rise to the back of my throat followed by the chunky swallows that burn. I was...am...a monster.

But what was that dream all about, though I guess it made change from the usual ones I had. Do you ever have those dreams where you try to run but you can't? Like your legs are weighed down by lead and despite how fast you know you can run, how desperate you are to flee, you just can't? I have. All the time, but now my legs, though satin smooth and sheathed in top-of-the-range pantyhose, didn't work at all. I was a sitting duck, little more than a target. Waiting for the truth to burn me.

This body. This fucking body I never wanted and couldn't stand to see. God, was I perverse? Should I be sectioned? I was too scared to ask the right questions but who really had the answers? Who could really help me?

All the hope from last night had faded quickly, the words of Mom and Giles seemed even more false like they were merely giving lip service to soothe their own fears. Now they had slept on it I knew what was to come. The yelling, the accusations, the looks of disgust and hatred they would throw at this freak that lived under their roof. Once the dust settled they would try and bring back HIM, my captor, the keeper of my heart, they would try and convince me that this was just a phase. But this wasn't a cry for help made by a boy in a dress, it was a sob because I couldn't live in denial anymore, I couldn't breathe as HIM.

But the real question was, could Mom love me, ever really love me for who I am despite what I did? I knew she loved Brian all moody and secretive as he was, but essentially I am the girl who killed him and could she ever forgive that, would she want to? She had known Buffy for less than a day and she had caused so much pain and disgust, first impressions and all that. My wet smile was empty, devoid of real feeling, and I deserve it. I am Buffy. I am hatred. I am pain. I am alone. forevermore.

What was the answer? An exorcism? The silver edged glide of a razor across my thin wrists? What else could there be? Love and understanding? Not likely, this wasn't a fairy tale where everything turns out for the good and I would wake from my sleep as the Princess I always wanted to be. No Sirree, this was a new level of hell. For them as well as me.

Who was I kidding, I'm not Lana Wacholski. I wasn't rich enough to get away with being able to seek my true life.

Whereas I wanted to embrace this side of myself, but in this body, my femininity was a burden which filled me with shame as I had been told so many times that these feelings were wrong for a boy to have. I didn't want to feel like this but I did and I couldn't deny it any longer, I couldn't change what my heart and mind told me but this weight around my soul was too much to bear anymore.

As I held the mirror my eyes darted all over the cleansed face that stared back. Where was she, where was I? Usually I would find her within the smile that no-one ever saw, but as my lips curled it all seemed so false. It wasn't my smile...it was his. The smile that used to make me feel alive, or anything worth a damn, but I know now that I am nothing a monster who hurt everyone I loved. In this vision of regret it mocked me.

The mirror used to hold all my dreams, in its glassy surface lay the image of a beautiful girl who was happy. In its immaculate reflection was the perfect face of a broken hearted girl shattering with each breath its male host would steal. But now?

I had to wait a week until that smile would reappear, my real smile on my real face of the real me. But now? What the hell was I? Who was I? A creation of flesh and torment, designed to suffer from being the way I was born.

No make-up, the mask that I used, the mask that is Buffy has gone and now all I can see is the reflection of a tormentor who holds my soul in this goddamn body. All that was left was him, the name of the deformed cell I would be trapped inside forever. I hated him, I hated him. The scared boy in the reflection who had stolen my innocence.

The tears ran freely down my face for what I had done. The pain created for those I loved, how could I hurt them like that, for what had they done to deserve it? Nothing. How could they possibly forgive me? This cry for help from someone so helpless. They could never love me anymore.

The tears waiting behind my love, like a dam that was near bursting but as much as I tried to plug that first leak I knew it was pointless as I am. Fuck it, fuck it all, it's not worth the struggle as who am I? A heroine for some daytime made for TV biopic? No I'm not strong enough to be Buffy, not valiant enough to go out in the world as the girl I should always have been. With photos of me in pretty dresses wearing my first make up stuck in the frame of the large mirror on my vanity, it was all too much and at the same time, not enough to keep me going.

The blessing of Giles and the love of Mom would lead me to the person that I really am, I knew they would take me there but in reality I was even more alone than ever. Now the girl had been outed, where could she turn?

I knew I was at battle with who I am and who I need to be, I can wear the clothes, I can walk the walk as they say, but disgust is all I would ever feel. It would never leave me alone as the girl I am was trying to step forward into the light, as the clock ticked away I knew that I all I would ever be was alone.

Where was she? I knew she was in there somewhere, she had been the only comfort and motivation for each misery tinged day, but now as I look into the reflection, naked of make-up, just a hideous creature who had done nothing but hurt everyone around her, or was this the real me?

But after all HE had done to try and let her die for the sake of familial harmony, SHE would always be in me. She IS me. but I had hurt the only ones who loved me. But they loved me for who I was, not for who I am. I was a monster, I am a monster, and not just the sickening shell I was in, but my deeds had just proven the ugliness of my soul.

My actions had sentenced me to the emptiness that stretched like a rope bridge with fraying knots. Between the two people who inhabited this frame, the two that fought for my soul. Would I get scared and go back, or would I be brave enough to set foot upon the terrifying path that would lead to self-discovery, or would I just tumble into the abyss, a lost soul, another statistic of the forgotten gender. No laws to protect me, no empathetic figures to rally around my cause for as I was neither black nor white, and any shade of grey is ignored. If had died then what? No flags to fly at half mast, no lip service prayers of sorrow, just a number for a never seen documentary made by a well-meaning student. I lost myself again just when I had hoped to finally grasp the answer to who I am.

I admit it, I was scared, too scared, I couldn't do this, I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't do this, I couldn't be this. They would all laugh, they would all stare on with hatred and disgust, it was safer to live in the shadows of misery than in the full glare of a world of intolerance and hatred.

The once crisp sheets with the neatly tucked in corners crumpled as my hands tightened into fists as I dropped the mirror smeared with the soft pitter-patter of my corrosive tears and threw my gaze into the sun. The window showed only sky. An infinite space, an emptiness that could not be measured, and that was me. A void free of purpose or quantifying.

If I came out as being gay and walked down the street who would even blink an eye? But a boy walking down the street in heels and a pencil skirt? Well I might as well just tattoo the words "Please kick the living shit out of me" across my face.

My arteries were barbed and wound round my heart, wrenching and twisting until I bled all my pain and let it flow until it poisoned me whole. I deserved no less. I may be Buffy...but I am nothing.

For what was my future as a t-girl? A Jerry Springer appearance and a lifetime of exploitation and hatred? The trail of molten salty droplets scoured down my skin and I felt my chest tighten even more as an unknown sickness rose in me coupled with a rage I needed to vent. Just who the hell was I? And what was I going to do now?

It's a MacCarthyist witch hunt for those who dare to dream. For those who were unrepresented in the common consciousness. There are laws to protect you from discrimination based on your sexuality and gender but, in essence, I am a white heterosexual male so everything in the world is my fault. The fact that I wear a dress and am desperate to be thought of as a girl is neither here nor there.

For what if I did find the courage to go out in the real world as Buffy? All the blue state heroes would say they were behind me but I know the truth behind the words and so called sympathy. They wouldn't think it's bullying but it is, every smirk as I passed in a sky blue skirt and pale top, every giggle hidden behind a paper cup as I smoothed out my skirt when I sat, every thought that will stay with them mocking me for wanting to be myself, it's still bullying and it all hurts like you wouldn't believe, so fuck them all. They are just as bad as the right wing assholes who run the world, at least they admit they are assholes, but you lot hide behind your liberal banners but still laugh and just want to exploit me in some tawdry low rent porno. Fuck...you...all!

A genetic abhorration who longs to have a vagina like all the other girls who take their freedom for granted. And now I was just another one. Another creature who would have to suffer for the way I was born. The laws that are meant to protect and help someone like me might as well be written on crepe paper as any employer or teacher would just see me as an abhorration to be disposed of. There were no real laws to protect me, no Congress acts to help me live, nothing. Nothing but loneliness and pain because of the rules we were all forced to live by, with gender being the one to slip through due to peoples discomfort at facing the truth. I sobbed and stared at my shaking hands through eyes that were blurred with self-loathing, the tears that slid down my rougeless cheeks burnt like sulphur.

What was going to become of me? I needed help, someone to take me by the hand and lead me into the light, but I am a realist. I know the only lights that someone like me would ever see are the lights of the Welfare Office or the Emergency room.

I looked up to see an old lady with an half full IV drip on a rusting metal stand wander into my room and watched as I cried. Her face was pale and drawn with her head covered by a camouflage bandanna. She looked in so much pain, as if each tiny step was a massive effort, but I could tell right then that this was a formidable woman who wouldn't back down from a fight. She reminded me of Mom.

If only I was that strong. Strong enough to be the t-girl version of Rosa Parks and sit in the girls section at school wearing Vera Wang. But I knew both sides would reject me for not being one or the other, there is no middle ground, no grey area, but I would end up face down in no man's land. A shroud of barbed wire, every cruel metal hook made from an offhand comment or snide look, all twisted up and piercing my heart.

My father fashioned many of these.

She shuffled along in her slippers shaped like pandas faces until she had perched her creaking bones on the side of my damp sheeted bed. She looked like the grandma you always pictured in your head while you listened to fairy tales as a child so when I looked up and saw her kind wide grin I instinctively flopped into her arms and cried heavily hoping that our matching IV tubes didn't get tangled. I could hear my sobs rattle through her frail body as she just held me.

I didn't want to need help from this woman who was obviously fighting her own battles but I just desperately needed to be held. To feel a connection with someone. To let me know that despite the method I took the outcome was still the right one. It was all I wanted. To be held, to be loved without judgment, to be treated as a person and not the sickening bitch who had destroyed and entire family. I'm so damn confused, have I made a mistake that nothing could repair?

"Shhh-shhh. That's it sweetie let it all out", that's when I noticed her accent that I couldn't quite place.

"It's gonna be ok, it's all gonna be ok", she sang in sweet lavender tones as we rocked back and forth, her ribs poking into mine.

"I...I...I'm s-so lost", I bawled out honestly worried that it would get lost in translation behind my high pitched whine.

"Honey, a girl as pretty as you shouldn't be so sad" she said as we slid apart and her bony fingers held my juddering chin giving me the kind of warm smile that could melt the heart of any hardened criminal.

She called me a girl. She called ME a girl!

My lips stretched as I offered her a toothy smile as by that one sentence she had not only calmed me but reaffirmed my true status in this world. Well, the status I had always wanted but between the drugs in my system and the nightmare that had scoured my soul, I had no idea what was truth and what was pity.

But it was real.

This was all real.

It had to be.

"So why are you in here? Your old man been laying the smackdown on your candy ass?", she said raising a wispish eyebrow as she played with her hearing aid trying to stop the annoying feedback.

I couldn't help but laugh at her deliberately ridiculous phrase and thanked her as I wiped my nose on the tissues she handed me. Though I maybe a guilt ridden sack of misery I still remembered my manners.

"What's your name sweetie?", she quizzed

"Bri...er, Buffy. Buffy Summers"

"What's wrong? You forget your name or something?"

"Or something", I muttered back dropping my head a little. Why should she care? If she only knew what I was, and what I had done.

"I'm Christina but you can call me Chris, so tell me Buffy Summers, what brings you here?"

"I...I...I can't...". My face flushed crimson at having to admit to my actions but she saw how hard it was for me so she pityingly jumped in.

"I'm in here 'cos I gots the cancer."

"I'm sorry", I whispered shocked at her frankness.

"Not your fault honey. It's my own, it's the smokes you see. Just couldn't let go of 'em, now I guess I'll have to", she said in that horribly jokey manner people do when they tell you something terrible but do it in a self-deprecating way to try to soften the blow as her smile faltered and her eyes frosted over a little.

I blushed even harder at my own idiocy. Here I was by my own hand while she was battling a death sentence which admittedly was also by her own nicotine yellow hand.

"Y'know when you get this stage you tend to look back over your life. What you've done, what you've seen. Sure I've got a lot of regrets but they're pretty much outweighed by all the good stuff so ...well, y'know. I got a great family that I'm damn proud of. My daughter in law and my two grandchildren, don't see them as much these days but I know they love me just as much as I love them. They've all been to see me, and I know it's tough preparing yourself to say goodbye, but...you can't stop fate can ya?"

Is this was this was? Fate? Dealing out tainted hands to gamble on without knowing which way the odds were stacked.

"My girl hasn't had it easy raising two kids on her own and she's got her own... 'health'... problems to worry about, but she's a tough one, family trait an' all that, so I guess I'm glad that I'm going before her. No mother ever wants to see her child in pain, so that's a comfort".

My guilt thundered through me and my gaze dropped once more as I roughly wiped my tears with my shaking fingers.

"I can see you're in pain, that you've done something you think is really bad, but you know there is no sin unforgivable for those who seek redemption. So what is it that makes you feel so lost Buffy?" she asked.

I took a deep scratchy breath and stared into her eyes, detached retinas and all.

And I told her.

Everything.

I've no idea how long I spilled my guts to her, nor how much Kleenex I got through, but I was jolted from my spiel as Chris wrapped her brittle fingers around my shoulders and gave me a shake.

"Stop that right now! This self-pity train ends right here, right now. Understand?", she snapped.

"B-but…..", I said startled at this woman's sudden change of manner.

"No buts Buffy, you were born a boy…..so what? Girl, boy, it doesn't matter these days, or at least it shouldn't. You're so young and so pretty and you have your whole life ahead of you. Me? I'm dying and I accept that 'cos what other choice do I have? But you? You still have all your choices ahead of you and whatever you may think of some old woman with no real teeth and a faded Celtics tattoo. I'm a great judge of character, my court appointed therapist told me so. I can tell you're scared shitless by all this, of yourself, of your future, I don't know. All I do know is, unless you embrace whatever it is your searching for, it'll eat away at you until you're in some hospital regretting your whole damn life as each second that passes brings you a little closer to St Peter checkin' his list and slamming those pearly gates in your face...I...hang on", she wheezed as her outburst had stolen what little breath she had and tried to steady her blackened lungs.

No matter how painful is was for her to breathe she was spending what little time she had left with me. How awful am I?

Her words were as brutal as they were shocking. All I wanted was a sympathetic shoulder for my torrent of tears but as she found a second wind she snared me with a glare that could melt wrought iron.

"You have to live your life the way you want to Buffy. Or come the day the chemo no longer works and you've nothing to look back upon but a life full of missed chances. Chances you were too scared to take, take it from a woman who's livin' on borrowed time. Someone as sweet as you should live your life...not fear it", she enthused as her false teeth gave a kind of squeaking grind.

"But how can I? Mom...Giles...they'll hate me for what I...", I said as shallow tears brimmed my eyes threatening to streak the last of my left over mascara down my face.

"No, don't talk like that", Chris said softer as her grip turned into a slight hug, "Do you love your family? And do they love you, despite what you fear?"

I just nodded dumbly for as sorrow ridden as I was I knew that they do love me. Or should that be in past tense now?

"Then you should never doubt that love or compassion, being a mother is a stronger bond than you will ever understand. One day I'm sure you will come to understand that. But cherish that love 'cos if you let it go now, if you turn your back on your family when they need you just as much as you need them, you'll regret it always. Take it from someone who knows. Love is everything, without it, we are nothing, life is nothing. Use this love and you can live...just live", she said with a single running down the subtle crevices of her pockmarked skin.

I just sniffled as I took in her scent of...what was that?

"Don't deny that love for without it you'll never find your real life. Find your passion Buffy and maybe that'll show you who you are truly meant to be, the strong and confident women I know you can be. Sure it won't be all floodlit and showered with roses but you got to try. Once you have that passion do whatever it takes to hold on to it, no matter the price. Find that thing that makes you jump out of bed in the morning, smilin' wide and kinda dizzy 'cos you can't wait for the day to start just so you can go and live in it, then you'll have everything you ever wanted in this world"

I lay back a bit on the lumpy pillows fiddling with my hospital gown, not just because it was all sweaty and totally gross, but how could I deny what Chris was saying. Here was a woman who had seen so much of this world but had so much sadness and regret within each tumor affected syllable, and she was comforting me?

Her words were so heavy but she was so right, what am I crying about, there are people in much worse positions than me. I knew deep down that despite my fears, Mom would always have my back, yet I seemed to fighting so hard to deny it. Was I trying to convince myself that she would hate me just so she wouldn't be hurt with all the shit that was going to come my way? That if I could distance myself from her affection then I would never be able to disappoint or cause her anymore pain? Why would I do that? Sure I was scared, like you wouldn't believe, but why was I scared of her love?

But I have to be brave, I have gone this far and I have to see it through or else, like she said, I would never be able to live. Buffy was out of the satin drenched closet now and how could I send her back. I was Buffy and whatever dread coursed through my detoxing body I knew that I had to be strong enough to now just say I am Buffy but actually be Buffy.

I tried to steer the conversation back to Chris who sipped from the glass of tepid water sitting on the three month old copy of Cosmo that sat on my table. The pills rattling down her throat as she winced with each swallow, god she was in so much pain and her body clock was winding down, and yet she was taking the time to try and impart her life lessons in someone like me? How selfish am I?

"Er...can't they do anything about you...you know", I said timidly, as if mentioning the dreaded C word would somehow make it less severe.

"Cancer honey, you can say it. When you're at this stage nothin's taboo anymore. I was diagnosed right on President's Day and once I realised the countdown had begun I decided to live every second I lad left to its full extent and, though it was harder than hell, I got my family back...though sometimes I wish I hadn't as seeing me like this...it's torture for them. So now I'm in here, well all I have left is time to think about everything I never did, never flew a plane, never punched a clown, never slept with a millionaire Russian playboy", she said with a wink.

I laughed a little. It felt so good to able to when in all honesty I thought I would find it hard to even smirk again.

"Buffy, let's say you wake up tomorrow as a woman. Who would be living in it? No point working on the chassis if the motor is fucked. Know what I mean?"

I so didn't but I just nodded anyway.

She slipped her cold hand into mine and latched onto my gaze, like there was some unwritten rule about hospital patients being supportive of each other. The slowly dilating pupils of her deep brown eyes seemed to slice through my crumbling walls like she was imprinting my very soul with her words.

"Can I give you one last piece of advice from an old woman who'll probably be in an urn by the end of the month? I know I may have said it already, damn these pills and their side effects, but you only get one chance in this world Buffy, so grab it by the balls and don't ever let it go otherwise you'll never be happy. The future is yours and yours alone, make of it what you will. You won't let me down will you?"

Her bony fingers tightened and I could feel her cheaply made wedding ring start to dig into my hand. That is so not fair, how can I possibly say no to what is effectively a death bed promise? It was almost like she was handing over the baton, like her feminine strength was being passed onto me like I was going to be the standard bearer for the next generation of women who would truly make a change in this world. The fact that I was deformed in the genitalia department meant nothing to her, this was a kindling of souls not a judgment on my mistakes.

I just nodded with all the sincerity a little head jiggle could convey and we sat there in silence for a minute having a 'moment'. The kind of intense bonding that only appeared De Niro monologues.

"Oh there you are Christine, I've been looking all over for you. Your family's here", said a frizzy haired nurse snapping us from our Academy Award winning showdown.

"Oh thanks Sinead, well I gotta go", she said as she wearily stood up with a deep set groan, "Now you my dear, you go out there and be the best damned Buffy Summers you can, ok?"

She spoke with such sincerity and kindness that it would be a slap in face of a terminally ill woman if I didn't find the dormant courage in me to finish what I started. And I knew exactly where I should begin.

"I will, and thanks for everything Chris...err, I don't know your surname", I said with a slight blush as how could I get so close to someone and not know the basics.

"Lehane. Chris Lehane", she replied with a frail smile and left. I wondered if I would ever see her like again, I hoped I would as she was definitely someone to admire. The kind of woman I would like to see myself as in fifty years' time. But without the cancer…or the paisley.

I stared at the half empty glass in front of me which still bore the marks of her deep red lipstick, it left me wondering if this was a metaphor for my life.

From the hallway there came a clattering and a 'wet floor' sign whizzed past my door as I heard a girl shout "Grandma" followed by a groan from Chris.

Though I couldn't see them I could almost sense their affectionate embrace, it made me miss Mom a little bit more as I so needed a hug right now.

"How are you old lady?", the cheeky voice said buoyantly.

"Bearin' up honey. You ok?"

"Y'know me Grams, five by five"

Huh? Was that some kind of code?

"Oh sweetie, you're so much like your father", I heard Chris say a little sadly.

"I know, I...I miss him too", came an ever sadder voice carrying an air of a wound yet to heal.

"Where's your sister? You didn't lock her in the trunk again did you?"

"What? You double dared me to, anyway Kennedy's been a good girl today. She and Mom are tryin' to convince the nurses it's ok for you to have a burger"

"And how is your mother? Is she still...", asked Chris with an echo of worry.

"Everyday's a struggle for her Grams, but she's tryin' really hard. Just got her 180 day chip"

"Good for her, is she still banned from your games?"

"Yeah, I told 'em it was just a one off thing, y'know like fallin' off the wagon n' shit but you know what those assholes can be like. Besides, their coach didn't even press charges, guess the pussy didn't want everyone to know he got his ass kicked by a woman", said the younger voice as I could sense the beginning of a rant brewing.

As they walked away I strained to hear the continuing conversation.

"Sweetie, I would like to see you in a dress before I die, y'know", Chris said cutting off her granddaughters words before they had time to air.

"The way I figure it, if I don't wear a dress then you've got no reason to die", teased the raspy younger voice, but I could feel the sadness the words barely kept contained.

"Hmmm touche, now let's got find your mother"

The voices trailed off as I braced myself for what I was going to have to do. As much as it would pain me to do this I had to become my own personal hero(ine) and decide on what path MY life would take regardless of the judgment of everyone else.

Now Chris was gone, though her words of encouragement and determination still held my heart with its talon like grip, I couldn't help but feel alone. My debilitating insecurities have harangued me my entire life, I was terrifyingly shy as a child and when I finally realised what I was it made me even more insular.

Fear commanded me and wanted to take the reins once more. But Chris was right, though fear was always with me...I had to make it my bitch.

But damn this was going to be tough.

On all of us.

For there is no twelve step plan for me, a blueprint passed down from t-girl to t-girl in order to secure a real life with tangible happiness. No, there are so many gaps between the dots I don't even know where to start joining them in order to create the picture of who I am. I know this should be a well thought out and carefully planned...er, plan, but I'm still essentially a kid and at the mercy of parental figures, religious leaders and various institutionalized learning facilities. So where the hell do I even start?

I am well aware that being a girl is not just about which side you button your clothes on or the way you eat a Toblerone, this is the single most important and significant decision of my life. This isn't just a phase inspired by some movie or an Off Broadway production, this is who I am and if I can't be Buffy you might as well sign me up to a lifetime of haloperidol as I will lose my sanity I have to endure being in this body anymore. That's not just hyperbole.

But what if what Chris said was true, what ifI did wake up tomorrow in the body I have been craving ever since I first escaped that incubator? Then what?

Sure, I would be the girl I've always know I really am but what if I really am that same scared child who feared and loathed everyone because of my deeply seared insecurities? I knew it wasn't going to be an instant fix to ease all my negativity about life, it would erode it a little but those same problems would just weigh down on a pretty girl in Manalo's instead of a surly boy with a shaved bikini zone.

I just want to be the kind of girl who, given time and space, could blossom into the kind of woman who would be everything a mother could be proud of.

It's what I want, it's who I am. I am Buffy and I want to be able to walk through the mall with my slimline purse hanging from my shoulder, a beautiful silk blouse that shimmered in the light and a mid-thigh denim skirt, shoes open to negotiation between Mom's credit card and finding a decent epilator. To do this and not feel like I was a walking target, to not have to cower away from the taunts and sneers of an uncaring group of peers, were these too much to ask?

I could work out all my problems and then become a girl but seeing as my gender misalignment was the main stumbling block it would all be pointless. I know suddenly being a girl wouldn't heal my soul but living as my true feminine self would be a start, the platform upon which I can build my self-esteem, a foundation stone for the construction of a real and happy life as my real self. It's just getting that first emotional brick down is the tricky part.

But who could really help become Buffy? Mom? I so desperately wanted her to take me under her wing and lead me into the life I so desperately wanted to live but, as experienced as she was, could she really be impartial? Would she impart me with all the knowledge of proper application and blending, or would she be slyly trying to derail me hoping that he would come back to reclaim this body?

I'm rushing things, I know that. Mom and Giles need time to come to terms with all this, to get used to the idea but this is the single most important decision I will ever face and I can't do this alone. Without wanting to sound like a whiney child, I really need my Mommy.

No Buffy, stop thinking like this. I have to block the negativity which drove me here in the first place, it would still be here tomorrow. So why not just try and enjoy the positives for who knows how long they would last or if they were permanent. Or would all this just end up the doped up ramblings of a lonely old man lying in a hospital bed weeping for living a life which wasn't his. Too scared to unveil the woman inside. No.

I know there's no set plan, no 'fill in the blanks' and voila- we've transitioned moments

But Chris was right, I just have to believe in myself as faith would make me see that life is worth living.

We couldn't skirt around the issue, I had to face up to the truth.

The future is mine.