Date: 11/03/02
Rating: R for bad, naughty words and situations
Summary: Most people think that BtVS is all about Buffy. I disagree.
Warning: Incest, rape, abuse, and all sorts of bad thoughts.
A/N: Thanks be to the betas, Lesley (my Brit girl) and Jacqueline (the best beta this side of Cancun).
"Mr. Williams?"
A gentle hand placed itself upon his shoulder. He did not move. His mind filled with fear of what could be standing before him this time. Would it be That Which Has No Name? Would it be that nice Buffy? Would it be another of his victims, intent on skewering him with guilt? Or could it be that not-so-pleasant Buffy? He never knew from day to day who he would meet and couldn't keep track of which were hallucinations and which were real. Trapped in between a filing cabinet and the basement wall, the man crouched, eyes squeezed tightly closed, attempting to block out the voice.
"Mr. Wil…Lance? Lance. Come on, luv. Open your eyes." Upon recognition of the lulling voice, he did. "That's a good boy. Now, take your medicine. Don't make me get the big burly orderlies. All right?"
As he looked over at the being, his mouth crept into a smile. Yes. It was Buffy. The Buffy he loved. The Buffy who took care of him and cherished him. She had brought him another bag of blood. And, God bless her, it was always warmed to exactly 98.6. He knew he did not deserve it, but after many weeks of her persistence, he learned to just accept it. After all, if it made Buffy happy to see him drink, then who was he to argue?
Spike reluctantly took the offering from his princess. "Thank you," his voice uttered, so sore from over-use.
"You have to stop that awful screaming at night, Lance. You know it isn't doing you any good. You're just hurting yourself."
"I'll bear that in mind." This Buffy was always so concerned about him. He knew in the dark recesses of his mind that this was most likely an apparition, but he didn't care. She made him feel loved and wanted…if only for a few minutes.
The woman, dressed in nursing whites, stood, then turned to the door. With a nod of her head, an orderly opened the heavy slab and she stepped through. For a moment, she turned back to regard her patient. He was such a handsome and sweet thing. What a shame that he had to be locked away from the world in such a place. The walls of this particular cell were padded and leather restraints hung, currently unused, from the east wall. 'He shouldn't be here,' she thought. 'He should be on a beach somewhere, Bloody Mary in one hand, and a book in the other as he lounges on the warm sand.' She shook her head in pity before continuing on to her next patient.
**********
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
A hard voice interrupted his quest for silence. He had been doing so well in ignoring the voices that incessantly chanted in his head. But now was the time to stand at attention. She was back. The real Buffy. The one who would never forgive him, nor understand the sacrifice he had made for her.
"Perhaps it would be quicker to tell you what's right with me." He kept still, consciously avoiding eye contact. That was when it hurt the most -- to see the hatred and loathing in her eyes. There was a time when he saw much more than that. But he had long ago lost the privilege of being privy to those intimate moments.
"Well, I'll agree with you there. You have to get out of here, Lance. I can't take this any more. It's all your fault, you know."
Spike set his forehead on his knees and he scrunched further toward the dank, cement wall. He began rocking back and forth as fresh tears dripped onto the floor making a pattern of little, wet splatters. "I know. I know. William is a bad, bad man. He's never done anything right." Suddenly, he stopped, then looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Why do you let me live?"
"What!?" Elizabeth was disgusted. Not only was she left to support herself alone when he was admitted to the Sunnydale Psychiatric Facility, but now he was a raving lunatic, asking her off-the-wall questions and hallucinating constantly.
"You've had plenty of chances, and now is the time, if ever there was one. Please, lead me to my final death. I have no place here. I hurt, I kill, I maim. It's your job, Buffy. It's your destiny. Please, kill me."
"Stop calling me that, Lance. I am not Buffy! I'm your fucking wife. You should recognize your own wife, you simpering little piece of shit."
"You're right, of course. You're always right. I'm so sorry." She's always right, my Buffy. No, not my Buffy. Never my Buffy. I'll never have anything again. I'll never be worthy of love or friendship. I'll always be this disgusting thing.
His tears began anew.
"Oh, for God's sake! Stop your blubbering. I knew I should have never married you. But I have one good thing to tell you, my darling." Failing to catch the sarcasm attached to the term of endearment, Spike looked up at her with a shred of hope. She kneeled to his level and just inches away from his face. "My lawyer has gotten the divorce papers together. If you can't straighten yourself out in the next 2 weeks, I'll sign those papers." His eyes displayed a raw sense of confusion. Divorce? "I can't wait around for you while there are other men out here. Men who can take care of me right and…"
The door opened with a slam to the nurse, Lizzy. The commotion from the room had grabbed her attention allowing her to just barely catch what Mrs. Williams was saying to her husband. Lizzy was reeling with true anger and repulsion with this…woman, yet managed to sound somewhat professional. "It's time for you to go, Mrs. Williams. He needs his rest now."
"He needs, he needs. What about what I need? Huh?" Lizzy ushered out the woman, who was dressed in a black cashmere coat and had perfect hair. "I'll have you know, I had to fire the groundskeeper. How is a woman supposed to live this way?"
"You can visit him again next week. Perhaps he'll be feeling better." Lizzy forced a smile to her lips.
With a 'humph', the woman retreated down the hall, leaving Lizzy distraught in her wake. The only sound on the ward was the tip tap of Elizabeth Williams' $300 shoes as she faded into the distance.
"The Missus again, huh?"
Lizzy looked over her shoulder at the voice. "Yes, Dr. Harris."
"What a bitch."
"Don't let her hear you say that. You'll be in court for the rest of your natural life."
They shared a short giggle, then she became somber again. "So, you're sure about his past, Alex?"
Alexander Harris took a sip of his bad coffee. "Yeah. I am. Tragedy, that."
Lizzy sighed, a sick feeling rising in her gut. She snaked her arms around herself. "Just imagine. A whole life spent at the mercy of others. How did he survive this long? What with the abusive parents and his wife? Are you sure there's nothing we can do about her? There has to be some way to press charges. I mean, the broken bones and bruising alone…"
Alex placed his hand on her shoulder. "I know, Lizzy. You and I both know the things that woman did to him. If he hadn't snapped and defended himself just that once, then it would still be happening."
"It's just too horrible to think about. All those years of abuse, and he's the one who gets put away."
The hand squeezed. "I know. I know. The best we can do for him is keep him away from his family in here. It's not ideal, but it's best for everyone. You know he's not fit to lead a normal life."
Lizzy understood perfectly. She remembered the day Lance arrived at her hospital. She had just come on shift, when three orderlies dragged in a bruised and beaten man. His words haunted her ever since. "I hurt the girl. I hurt the girl. Buffy!"
***********
"Hello, my darling boy."
"Dru?" Spike looked up from the floor to see his dark queen before him. She was so beautiful with her flowing black lace dress and those lovely eyes…the sight of her made him cry with joy. "Have you come to take me finally? Please kill me, my Dru."
From outside, a worried pair of eyes stared into the tiny two-way mirror. "Who is that woman, Warren?"
The orderly barely looked up from his magazine to shrug his shoulders.
Lizzy snatched the item from his hands. "Did you let her in? Who is she?"
"Hey, now. That was mine! And she said she was his mother. What's the big deal, Lizadro?"
"Don't call me that. Get up off your fat ass and get to work before I report you this time."
The sloth of a man sighed, then got up, grabbed back his literature and walked down the hall, toward the broom closet to finish his read.
Lizzy watched him saunter away, and just shook her head. She had learned over the last year that there was no controlling that man. Putting it out of her mind for more important things, she went to Lance's cell and walked in.
"Can I help you? I'm Lizzy, Lance's nurse." She approached the strange woman cautiously, but with an outstretched hand. "And you would be?"
The black haired woman took her hand gently. "I'm Drusilla, dearie. Lance's mother."
Fear gripped the young nurse's heart. Drusilla. The mother. The one who sexually molested her son for years. She just knew she had to get her out of there. Meanwhile, Lance was staring at the woman with a fascination, more tears coming to his eyes. "You came to me. You came to me, my love."
Oh, shit. "Ma'am…" Lizzy began.
"Call me, Dru, darling."
"Yes, um, Dru. May I please speak with you outside for a few minutes?"
"Certainly." Dru pulled away from her son, their entwined hands stretching out as Spike was unwilling to let go. This was the one person in all the world who had loved and accepted him at one time. It brought a warm feeling to his chest just to see his dark princess. But, as soon as she had arrived, she disappeared again. That was how things were since the souling. Anything pleasant shortly left. 'Which is how it should be,' he constantly reminded himself.
Once out of earshot, Lizzy summoned up her courage and began to speak to the strange woman. "Dru. I understand you have a right to see your son. However, his psyche is very tenuous right now. I think perhaps it would be best if you left him in our hands to get better before you try to see him again." That tightness returned to her stomach. How could a mother do the things she had heard about? She forced her 13 year old child to have sex with her, then allowed his father to physically abuse him. Thankfully the father abandoned the family when Lance was merely 15 years of age, but his mother's abuse continued into his 20's. The nurse stifled a violent shudder. Stories about Lance's parents, Dru and Angel Williams had become well known in this wing of the hospital.
The woman regarded the nurse with a cold eye for several moments, then gave a maniacal smile and thankfully retreated. Lizzy would have hated to have to call the police. That would have only served to upset Lance further.
************
It was a beautiful Sunday. The sun shined so brightly. Lizzy longed to allow her special patient to experience it, but the rules were clear. Mr. Williams could not leave his padded cell…not for any reason, save natural disaster. Besides, he claimed to be a vampire and unable to venture into the sun. Still, she thought it would be nice to show him the real world once in a while. Maybe it could help break into that fantasy one of his. Not that she could wholly blame him. It seemed pretty sane to her to retreat into a fantasy world when the real one around you was imploding into hell.
So, the best she could do was bring her own dose of sunshine to him. She quickly took care of her other patients' needs, then sat herself down for a chat with her favorite.
"Good morning, Lance."
Her smile. So beautiful. So pure. Just like the sun that he hadn't seen since the ring of Amara. "You glow, luv. You really…glow." And she did. He knew full well he did not deserve her kindness and support. But some days he would allow himself the delusion that this was the real Buffy and that she would rescue him one day from this cruel irony…from this dark basement that threatened to steal what remained of his sanity.
He looked at her with those eyes of devotion. Lizzy wondered how any woman on the receiving end of that look could possibly hurt him. She couldn't even imagine.
"How are you? Did you sleep well? I hope you didn't have many of those nightmares. They upset you so."
"That they do, luv."
Lizzy contented herself to sit in silence. She had learned quickly that this was the best way to get him to open up to her. In fact, Dr. Harris was surprised at how easily he spoke with her and not himself. Sometimes he joked that Lance must see her as an old, lost love. To that she would respond with a negative. 'No. He just feels safe with me.'
It had been about 15 minutes before he spoke this morning.
"Why are you here, Buffy?"
She placed one warm hand upon his. "Lance, I'm not Buffy, remember? There is no Buffy. I'm your nurse, Lizzy. Do you remember? I remind you of this every day."
"You're right, of course. You can't be Buffy. Buffy wouldn't sully herself by sitting here with a murderer. Disgusting, bad, evil, thing!" Spike resumed his familiar rocking and began to hit himself in the head repeatedly.
"Come on. There's not a thing in the world wrong with you. Nothing." She grabbed his head and led him to look in her eyes. "You're just a little confused, that's all. You have to come back to us… to the real world. We have to get you out of here. But I can't do it without your help."
"Buffy needs my help. Buffy always needs my help. Never me. It'll never be me." The rocking commenced once again. Once it started, Lizzy knew from experience that he would simply retreat into himself and sit in silence for the rest of her shift.
Lizzy sighed and shook her head. "Lance…" She listened closely at the door, then continued speaking once sure they were alone. "Spike." He reluctantly looked in her eyes again. "Yes. Look at me. Listen to me. You've had a bad lot in life. It's not your fault." Spike shook his head as if by doing so, he could shake her words away. "Yes. I mean, no. It's not your fault. Your mother and wife have treated you terribly. They were wrong, not you. Can't you see that?" She looked away for a second and shook her head again. "No, I guess you can't." She took a deep breath. "What is the last thing you remember before coming here…er…before you got your soul?"
"Oh, Buffy, you know. I can't say it. Can't say it. Dirty, little, simpering fool. Not worthy of your words, of your time."
Lizzy put a hand on his cheek. "Spike. Your name is Lance…" And it was that moment she realized where he had gotten the name Spike from. Both names represented a sharp object that could cause pain. Bloody brilliant mind, he had. She smiled despite the situation. "…Lance Williams. You aren't a vampire. You aren't William the Bloody. You never raped anyone. You never killed anyone. You are a good man."
Spike suddenly stood, then ran to the other corner with his hands on his ears. "You're lying. You are a liar. STOP!!"
This was good. He was understanding her. So many times he would act as if her words just passed through him without registering. But today, he heard!
Lizzy got up and determinedly followed him. She firmly pried his hands away from his head, then held them. "Lance. Your name is Lance. You are not in the school basement. You are in a psychiatric hospital." He looked at her, his eyebrows creased together. "It's all true. Please try. Try for me."
After several moments of contemplation, he just barely nodded.
"Your wife, Elizabeth. Do you remember her?"
"The real Buffy?"
"No, her name is not Buffy. She is Elizabeth. Mrs. Elizabeth Williams. You married her over a year ago. She hurt you and…"
Spike yanked his hands from hers and placed them back on his ears. "No! You are wrong. She would never marry me. She would never touch me. She would ne…"
"Spike!" Lizzy yelled at the top of her lungs.
Spike had never heard his white Buffy so angry before. It was enough to slap him out of his state. He slowly took his hands down, and placed them back in Buffy's hands. They stood there for several minutes in silence before she began to speak again.
"I care about you, Lance. You are my favorite here. What happens to you matters to me. Do you believe that?"
She could tell he wanted so badly to believe her. But she also knew he would never agree. There was some sort of guilt complex locked away in that mysterious brain of his that would never allow a second's happiness.
"Regardless of what you believe, I'm here to tell you that I want you to get better. You need to know the truth. You need to climb out of this make-believe town of Sunnydale you've constructed for yourself. Will you help me?"
"Buffy needs help. Need to help my Buffy."
Lizzy closed her eyes, willing the tears not to flow. Would she ever get through to him? "Oh, Lance." She affectionately ran her hand over his hair before walking out onto the unit. Her cup of cool coffee awaited, right next to the blue chart labeled, "Lance Williams". She opened it and began to chart the same words she had charted numerous times before.
| Pt. remains in his delusional world despite |
| several attempts at reorientation. |
| Visits from his wife and mother have no effect. |
Tomorrow would be another day. Another day to try and get him out of here.
End