April 1, 2002

I got fired today. Time to get my drink on.

April 3, 2002

Employment is overrated. So is paying bills.

April 6, 2002

Fuck.

What have I done?

I can't go home. I can't move back to my parents' house. I'd never hear the end of that. I can just hear my Mom bitching at me: "That's what you get for moving to LA and thinkin' you're better than your hometown."

Well guess what, Mom? You were right. I'm trash.

April 7, 2002

I can't stop thinking about Buffy. Does that make me the crazy one?

April 8, 2002

I should do some laundry and take out the trash. There's a sour smelling coming from the kitchen. It's probably all the greasy take-out boxes that have piled up. I should really stop eating out. The money's gonna run out soon if I don't find another job, pronto. And fuck if I'm gonna ask Jarrod for a hand-out. I've never depended on a dude like that, and I'm sure as shit not gonna start now.

Fuck. Why did I have to kiss her?

Why do I get so attracted to damsels in distress?

I know Dr. Primrose warned me. Even now I can't figure out why I did it. Momentary insanity?

She'd been comatose for so long – maybe I was just relieved she'd woken up. Or maybe it was the way the overhead lights danced across her hair and lit up her beautiful, vulnerable face. I gotta stop thinking about her as beautiful. I mean, she is beautiful. Achingly so. But that doesn't matter anymore. I fucked up and now I'm facing the consequences.

What am I going to do now? I've got a little cash saved up, but it's not enough to keep me afloat for more than a month. I've never been jobless like this before, and after how I was dismissed, there goes my future as a health care professional.

Maybe I should check out the county morgue. At least then I wouldn't get obsessed with the clients, right?

Tomorrow I've gotta get the paper and check out the classifieds. Yes. That's what I'll do. I'll get up early, actually take a shower, and find myself a job – any job at this point – gotta swallow my pride and work in fast food or something just until something a little more my style comes along.

Yes. Tomorrow is the start of a brand new leaf. A Buffy Summers-less leaf.

April 9, 2002

I dreamt about her last night.

Maybe it was the leftover pad thai, or maybe my subconscious really hates me, but my brain decided to replay what happened at the asylum the other day. The fucked up thing is that I knew what was going to happen and its consequences, and yet I went ahead and did it again.

At first I thought it was going to be like a Bill Murray Groundhog Day thing – I could re-live the situation, but this time do it right. Not be a bonehead. Too bad I'm a horny idiot, even in my dreams.

In the dream I was doing rounds. Ever since Buffy's been comatose, Dr. Primrose had me back on bedpan duty. It surprised me, and made me a little mad, she'd given up on Buffy so soon. She reminded me just how long Buffy had been a patient there, however. She told me that maybe Buffy's latest bout of awareness had been a fluke.

Every time I came to her room, I'd stop and say hi like she was actually awake, a part of me hoping for some kind of reaction. Even when I'd leave for the night, I'd stop by her room one last time. It's embarrassing to think about it now.

Dr. P caught me once and I could tell she wanted to say something to me, like "Stop it." But she just hesitated and continued on her rounds without a word of reproach for me.

In the dream, I was just finishing up for the day. I was already changed out of my scrubs and had my jeans and a tank top on. I stopped at her room to say goodnight like I usually did. Usually I'd just hang out in the doorway, but something drew me into her room. I can't explain it – it was just like some presence or some force that beckoned me to go inside her room, near her bed.

Her eyes were closed like she was sleeping, but I knew it wasn't just sleep. I knew her mind was someplace else. I couldn't blame her. I'd probably do the same thing if I was her.

I don't know what spurred me on to kiss her in the first time. Kinda like a Sleeping Beauty moment, but now that I think about it, it was pretty pervy of me to go kissing a comatose woman. I've turned into a total creeper.

But instead of staying asleep like I'd expected, her eyes fluttered open and suddenly she was kissing me back. Her mouth was just so warm and soft and inviting, I wanted to melt into her and never stop.

Fuck. I can't keep thinking about her like this. It isn't healthy.

April 10, 2002

She called my apartment today. Buffy.

I'd been out, grabbing the local papers to check out the Classifieds for a new job when she called. I have no idea how she got my number. I can't believe that the hospital would have just given her that information, and I don't think I gave anyone else my landline.

She left a voicemail on my answering machine. The message was brief – she wanted to apologize for what happened. Apologize for getting me fired. She apologized for just about everything except for kissing me. It made me feel good in a 'oh-my-God, I'm-crazy' kind of way like she didn't consider me a mistake or a bad idea.

I could tell she wanted to say more, but there was all kinds of yelling in the background. One of the other patients must have been impatiently waiting for their turn on the phone. She said she'd try to call me later in a breathless, rushed voice. It made me want to sit by the phone so I wouldn't miss her call the next time.

I deleted the message though. I didn't want to go all mopey again, listening to her voicemail again and again, memorizing the sound of her voice, the way she says my name.

But if I'm really gonna move on, I can't do this. I can't sit around and pine over this girl. It's not like she's just in prison, and I only have to wait until her release date. She's crazy. She's unbalanced and unstable. It's not even like she's in there because she has an eating disorder that could be managed. She frickin' thinks she's a superhero.

I guess it could be worse though, right? At least she's not the villain.

April 11, 2002

Buffy called again today, and this time I was actually home when it happened.

When the phone ran, I could literally feel my heart kind of beat faster in my chest. My phone hardly ever rings – the landline, at least – so when I heard its shrill noise, it was as if I knew she was calling me again.

We didn't talk about anything specifically; it was really just some small talk – the weather…how her treatment was going…if I'd found a new job yet…stuff like that. By the end of our conversation, however, she started to reveal how she felt like she was slipping away again. How being at the hospital was making things harder for her, especially now that I no longer worked there.

When I asked her what she meant by 'harder', she told me that she felt like she really was going crazy – that if she didn't get out of there soon, she'd just go back to Sunnydale.

I tried to give her some bullshit pep talk about everything she had to live for, but I really was just pulling stuff outta my ass. Even I wouldn't have listened to anything I had to say. Cause I mean, anywhere's gotta be better than some insane asylum, right? At least in her own little private world she was like a superhero and had people that cared for her. Here, what did she have to look forward to? Obligatory visits by her family? A lifetime of group therapy and cafeteria food?

And then she asked me The Question: "You don't think that maybe…maybe you could get me out of here, could you?"

I started off with a list of reasons why that wouldn't be good for her or me, but she just sounded so sad, it made me ache all over. I wanted to say yes, but c'mon… breaking a patient out of the asylum? I might as well be helping someone break out of prison. It's trouble with a capital T.

But she hasn't done any crime.

I ended the call telling her I'd think about it. Her voice lost some of its pain, but I could tell she didn't really believe me. I'd think about it, yeah…but when a chick says that, it basically means 'No.' Believe me, I've heard that excuse enough to know what it really means.

April 12, 2002

I've made up my mind. Forget about everything I said yesterday. I'm gonna bust her out of there. Now all I need is a plan.

POV: None

The blonde girl stared anxiously at the door. She wasn't sure how Faith was going to gain entrance to the hospital, but knowing the Bostonian, it would be dramatic and violent.

Buffy shut her eyes and shook her head. No, that was wrong. Her name wasn't Faith. It wasn't her. They weren't the same.

The past few evenings, the California girl had been pretending to take her medicine. One of the other patients, a bulemic named Margie, had taught her the trick. Margie – what an unfortunate name. No wonder the girl felt fat.

The door to Buffy's room swung open and the blonde held her breath. She released the breath, however, when she realized it wasn't the orderly. It was just her doctor, Dr. Primrose.

The shorthaired physician gave Buffy a warm smile as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. She wordlessly crossed the room and sat next to Buffy's bed in the chair normally reserved for Faith. No, not Faith. Someone else.

"So," Dr. Primrose began. She drew in a great breath. "Let's talk about what happened the other night."

Buffy frowned. "I don't know what you're referring to."

The doctor gave her patient a conspiratorial smile. "So you're saying you don't remember kissing that girl?"

"Oh," the blonde said flatly. "That."

"Yes. That. Why Buffy?"

The Californian opened her mouth, but realized she had no easy answer. Or at least one that didn't make her sound crazier than she already felt. She shut her jaw and averted her gaze.

Dr. Primrose leaned forward in her chair to engage the young woman. "I know she reminds you of someone. Who is that person?"

"Faith." The name got caught in Buffy's throat.

"Yes, Faith." Dr. Primrose leaned back and crossed her legs. "She's another slayer like you in Sunnydale, right?"

Buffy nodded, not looking at the doctor.

"Are you in love with Faith in your imagined world, Buffy?"

"No!" The word came out harsh and violent, but Dr. Primrose didn't seem affected by the intensity of Buffy's answer.

The doctor pursed her lips and looked down at the pad of paper on her lap. "Then why did you kiss the girl who reminds you of her?"

Buffy shrugged helplessly and sighed.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Dr. Primrose tapped at the paper with the eraser of her pencil.

Buffy lifted her shoulders again and let them fall.

"I think," the doctor began, undeterred by the blonde's mime routine, "that you're trying to hold onto something familiar. The real world can be confusing. It's bright. It's loud. And you haven't really lived here for the past size years. You've been playing out a fantasy inside your head."

"This girl, who randomly came into your life," she continued, "perhaps reminds you of Sunnydale – your mystical world where you're in control. And maybe she even looks a little like your Faith."

"She looks exactly like Faith," Buffy interrupted.

Dr. Primrose returned the rudeness with a patient smile. "Be that as it may, I think your fear of letting go of Sunnydale manifested itself into a physical attraction."

"You fired her." It wasn't a question or an accusation from the blonde woman, however. Just a statement.

"Yes," Dr. Primrose frowned. "And I was loath to do it, too. But, it's for the best," she reasoned. "Now you can get better without her here to cling to."

Buffy frowned. "Now I can get better," she echoed carefully.

Dr. Primrose patted the blonde patient's knee and stood from her seat. She stretched her legs and looked at the digital clock on Buffy's bedside table. "It's late," she observed. "You should get some sleep. We can talk more about this tomorrow morning in group therapy."

Buffy sat on her bed after the doctor exited and thought about what Dr. Primrose had said. She had fun with the orderly – they played board games together, and she was one of the only people here who treated her like a normal person – like she wasn't crazy or fragile or dumb. Naturally she would harbor positive feelings for the young employee because of this, but why had she kissed her? Why did she want to be kissed by this girl? Plus, the orderly looked too much like Faith for it to be a coincidence.

Buffy pressed her palm into her forehead and closed her eyes. She just needed to get away from this hospital so she could make some sense of it all. As if on cue, the sound of tapping on glass alerted the blonde and dragged her out of her thoughts.

The beaming smile of the former hospital staffer gazed at her through the closed window. Buffy hopped off her bed and rushed over to the windowpane. She unlocked the bolts and opened it as far as it would go – which wasn't much. The windows in patients' rooms only opened to let in a slight breeze, nothing more.

"You ready to go?" the former employee grinned.

Buffy hesitated near the window. If she left with this Faith-look-alike, it would mean the end of her treatments. Maybe then she could finally sort out her brain without constantly getting pumped full of medicines. But leaving the hospital like this probably meant the end of her parents' support, as well. She couldn't imagine, after all she'd put them through, that they'd ever re-welcome her with open arms. She would be severing all ties to her LA-past for an unknown future.

"I'm ready," the blonde agreed.

"You can't get out this window and it's not like you can just waltz out the front door either. You need to get to the group bathhouse. Do you remember how to get there?"

An image of the sunny, yet clinical bathroom flashed through Buffy's head. The girl nodded.

"Okay. I'll meet you over there. I had a friend make sure one of the window bolts was left unlocked."

"A friend? Who would risk their job to help a patient escape? How much of their plan did this other person know?" Buffy silently wondered.

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" the dark-haired girl whispered, sensing the other woman's reticence.

Buffy swallowed and nodded. "Yes. I'm ready," she said once again.

Buffy slipped into the white sneakers she found at the bottom of her closet. She briefly scanned the contents for anything she would need. The last time she'd left home like this, she'd just killed Angel and her mom had basically kicked her out of the house. She wouldn't be able to pack a bag like last time, though. Hefting a suitcase on her way to the bathroom would certainly call too much attention to herself, even in an asylum. Still in her pajamas, Buffy grabbed a zip-up hooded sweatshirt. A little layering would be fine, she reasoned.

Buffy took a final glance at her room before leaving. This would be the last time she saw the inside of this room, one way or another. Either she'd successfully escape the hospital, or she'd get caught and retreat back inside her mind – back to Sunnydale.

The blonde opened her bedroom door and cautiously looked both ways. Not many other patients or staffers stood in the hallway. With the late hour, most were asleep and the hospital was staffed by only a skeleton crew.

Buffy carefully closed her bedroom door closed, so that anyone on rounds wouldn't immediately notice her absence. No one looked in her direction as she walked away from the closed door. There was nothing unusual, after all, about a patient leaving her room to go to the bathroom.

When she reached the group bathroom, she breathed a sigh of relief to find it empty. Her break-out would have been infinitely more difficult if another patient had been in the room. At least everyone here was crazy though; Buffy could have probably explained away the orderly's presence to another patient just like she'd explained away the demons in Sunnydale to its townsfolk.

Buffy heard a noise at one of the large bathroom windows, high above the group of sinks. One of the windowpanes popped open, and slid away horizontally to reveal the former hospital employee.

Buffy waved at the woman, but then stopped, feeling awkward and foolish.

"Quickly and quietly," the attractive brunette instructed in a serious tone. "You gotta hop up on the sinks, and I'll pull you out."

"How did you get up there?" Buffy questioned, looking up at the orderly.

The girl flashed the blonde patient a quick smile. "Ladder. The grounds-crew are always sloppy about leaving their tools out."

Buffy sucked in a quick breath and then nimbly climbed on top of the porcelain sinks, careful not to slip on the potentially slick material. She reached up with both hands toward the open window, and the Faith-look-alike grabbed onto her wrists to pull her up.

"C'mon," the brunette grunted, looking visibly flustered. "You're still not free yet."

Buffy looked at her rescuer with her head cocked to one side. "I don't think I'll ever be free."

TBC