Buffy walked up to the front of the big Victorian-style house. A nice looking place anyway, she thought. She was still a little wary about this whole idea. She didn't know much about therapists, but she had liked Mr. Platt, the school guidance counselor. She had enjoyed talking to him, even though it was just one more hoop set up by that weasel Snyder. Too bad his throat had been torn out. Buffy had actually felt like he understood.
Trying to put the grim thoughts behind her, Buffy resolutely pushed the front door open. She entered into a small, but nicely furnished waiting room. An older woman sat at the desk opposite the door. "Can I help you, honey?" she called to Buffy.
"I have an appointment?" Buffy said hesitantly, not really meaning to make it sound like a question.
The woman looked down at the book on her desk and smiled invitingly. "Sure, Buffy Summers, 2:00. It's right here," she said, tapping the book. She held out her hand then, "I'm Marilyn. We spoke on the phone."
Buffy shook the woman's hand. Buffy had thought her voice was familiar. She'd been a little nervous when she called, but the woman had put her at ease. "Yes, I remember."
The woman chuckled and motioned for Buffy to have a seat. "It's always hard the first time you call," she said reassuringly and Buffy glanced at her sharply. "Oh, no, honey. I don't read minds. I've just been doing this a long time. I was Amanda, Dr. Newton's, father's secretary for twelve years until he died eight years ago. I've been with Amanda since then."
Buffy nodded, not really sure what to say. She was silent while the woman reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. "This is some paperwork for you to fill out before you go in. Just the usual name, address, insurance," she stopped then and looked up at Buffy, "Do you have insurance?"
Buffy shook her head slowly. Was this all for nothing? She hadn't even thought about how she would pay for this. But the woman just nodded again and reached for another sheet, "It's okay, honey. Just sign this at the bottom. Amanda uses a sliding scale. She'll work something out so that you can pay what you can." She handed all the papers to Buffy on a clipboard. "If you have any questions, just ask. That's what I'm here for."
Buffy thanked the woman and turned to the first sheet. Name, address, telephone, all good. Pretty basic background stuff. She carefully filled out the form, pausing only to consider the medical history section. Should she list being dead for 3 months? She decided to go ahead and list it. After all, if the woman couldn't take that, she would never be able to help Buffy.
After completing the background information, Buffy read through the informed consent. It specifically said that everything she said would be completely confidential unless someone was in danger. Buffy chuckled slightly. In Buffy's world, someone was always in danger. She signed the form anyway.
Just as she finished signing the last form, the fee waiver, a black haired woman came to the door of the waiting room. She was in her early thirties and a few inches taller than Buffy. Dressed casually in blue dress, she didn't look like a doctor. Buffy couldn't help but notice the silver pentacle that hung on a chain around her neck.
She approached Buffy and held out her hand. "I'm Dr. Newton, Miss Summers, but you can call me Amanda. Why don't you bring those papers along with you and come on back to my office."
Buffy followed the doctor out of the waiting room and into a pleasantly lit office. A large mahogany desk stood in one corner, but Amanda didn't go to the desk. Rather, she motioned for Buffy to have a seat in one of the comfortable looking wing chairs clustered on the opposite side of the room. "Unless you'd rather sit on the couch," she said, referring to the loveseat against the other wall.
"No, this is fine," Buffy said. The room didn't look anything like what Buffy had imagined. A pair of white and black candles burned on the mantle over the fireplace and Buffy could hear the low murmur of a water fountain on the desk. The room had the slight smell of sage and several other herbs Buffy recognized from Willow's magickal work.
"I'll take those," Amanda said, taking the chair opposite Buffy. She flipped through the papers, skipping the background information sheet. "Do you have any questions about the paperwork you filled out?" she asked.
"Marilyn, ah, your secretary, said that you could do a fee waiver, ah, thing? I don't have any insurance," Buffy finished in a rush.
"Why don't you tell me what brings you here today first? If we decide to work together, we can work out the money at the end."
Buffy nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure where to begin."
It was Amanda's turn to nod. "Just start at the beginning."
The beginning, where was that? "Okay," Buffy said, "I guess the beginning is, well, I'm the Slayer." She stopped, letting the word hang in the air between them.
But Amanda just nodded, "I thought there was something different about you."
Buffy's jaw dropped a little. "You know what the Slayer is?"
"Of course, 'One girl in all the world,' and so on. I am quite versed in these things." She stopped then and regarded Buffy with a long look. "But you knew that. That's why you came to me."
"But I wasn't really sure I believed it," Buffy replied.
"So, you're the Slayer," she said, glancing down at he background sheet she still held in her hand, "You're twenty-one, you've been the Slayer for a while. I'd imagine you've seen quite a few things. What brings you here now?"
Buffy paused again, then slowly said, "Well, ah, I died in the spring of last year." She paused again.
This time she did get an eyebrow-raise from Amanda. "I see. Why don't you tell me about it?"
Buffy related the events that led up to her dive from the tower. Dawn, Riley, her mom's death, Glory, Ben, everything. Well, almost everything. In the whole story, she hadn't mentioned Spike. "I was just so tired," she said, "Death was my gift. But my death wasn't just my gift to the world, to stop the barriers from coming down." She paused, then said softly, "My death was my gift to myself."
This was the first time she had ever told anyone what had happened. Willow, Xander, Dawn, they had all been there. They knew what had happened. There was no need to recount the events that led up to her decision to jump. And the fact that she had welcomed it, that she had jumped to save herself as much as them? She had never told anyone that. Not even Spike, with whom she had shared the most about her death.
Amanda nodded, "It was a courageous thing to do."
"No," Buffy said sharply. Then more quietly, "Yeah, you'd think it was. But it wasn't. It was selfish and weak. I just couldn't live anymore. Suicide is still suicide even when it's for a noble cause." There is was. Suicide. Buffy hadn't realized before that she felt that way about her death. She knew the coming back was hard, but she hadn't realized that she felt so guilty for the way she had died.
"And is that so bad? Is there a time when you get to do something for yourself?"
The image of herself and Spike, rolling in the rubble of the fallen down house flashed through her mind, but Buffy shoved it ruthlessly away. That was just something she couldn't deal with now. Not when she was so raw from recounting last year's events. "That doesn't make it right. I'm the Slayer. My job is to take care of the world, not to feel sorry for myself. There was no Slayer because of me. I knew Faith was out of commission, but I didn't care. I left the world with no protection. My friends with no protection. My sister." On the last word, Buffy's voice broke. She stopped, tears coming to her eyes.
"Do you love your sister, Buffy?"
Buffy wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, "Of course I do. What kind of question is that? She's my sister."
"But she isn't, really, is she?" Amanda replied.
"She's more than that. She's me. The monks made her from me. We're the same, flesh and blood."
"So, jumping, it wasn't completely selfish. Partly, yes. Partly a desperate act. But not completely selfish. After all, you left a part of yourself here. You saved the world from destruction." Amanda paused for emphasis. "So I ask again. Where is the room for taking care of you in all of this?"
Buffy stopped and considered what the therapist was saying. Was that true? Not completely selfish? Did that make it better?
"Our time is up," Amanda said gently, bringing Buffy's thoughts back to the present. "Now it's time for a decision. Do you want to come back?"
"Do you think you can help me?" Buffy asked.
Amanda sighed, "It's not so much a matter of me helping you, Buffy. The question is, can I convince you to help yourself? I have a feeling there is a lot more to this story that I haven't heard. I sense a lot more pain, more recent pain, that you haven't shared with me yet. I think we need to get that out on the table between us."
"Yes," Buffy said, "I'd like to come back." Then she paused, "But I can't really pay very much, when my mom, well, Dawn and I don't have much."
"How does ten dollars a session sound?" the doctor asked, carrying the fee waiver to the desk.
"Ten dollars? That's all?"
"I can afford to take in some pro bono work. I build it in as part of my schedule. Anyway," she said with a smile, "I'll just consider this my contribution to the fight against evil."
Buffy smiled, too, for what felt like the first time in two weeks. "I think I can handle that."
"Same time next week, then?"