My first fanfic posted here. My twist on "Graduation Day, Part 2", and the second chapter of "Operation Volcano". A prequel to an AU story called "Slayer Lost" in which Buffy didn't return from LA after Becoming 2. If you recognize the name or situation, it belongs to someone else, and I'm just borrowing!
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Dragon Dreams
She was sleeping face down, head buried in her pillow, so her screams only woke her and not the rest of the floor.
She pulled herself up, shoving back the twisted, sweat-soaked top sheet and swinging her legs over the side of the bed to dangle over the gray carpet as she cupped her face in her hands, trying to banish the remnants of the dream.
Fuck!
They told me the drugs would stop this shit! They haven't even slowed it down!
When she thought she could stand without falling, she hopped off the bed and walked slowly over to the sink, twisting the cold water faucet to full and holding her hands under the flow, letting the chill wash over her wrists, hoping to wake herself fully.
She raised her face to the mirror, studying herself dispassionately for a moment.
Damn, look like hell, don't you, Julie? You could pack for a world-wide cruise with those bags, baby. You look 66, not 16.
She scrubbed at her face with her wet hands, rubbing away the rest of the tears staining her cheeks.
God, the doc's gonna tear me up when I tell him still I'm not getting the sleep he says I need! They're gonna keep me here forever! Yeah, it sounds easy…simple. Just got to sleep, and take my meds, and eat properly, and be a good girl, and be a fucking freak the rest of my life!
She shuddered, arms wrapped around herself, trying to get the proverbial grip, mind detached and watching her, grinning evilly at the show.
Pathetic little girl, aren't you? Why not just blow your brains out and end it for good? You almost did two years ago, even tasted the barrel before you chickened out! No one will miss one more twisted crazy – the world's full of people like you!
"No!" she moaned, barely out loud. She raised her head, letting her arms drop limply to her sides, studying herself in the mirror again.
I'm not crazy! I have a disorder! I'm bipolar! I'm different, but it can be controlled!
She brushed her light brown hair back from her pale face, taking a deep breath.
Your hair was dark in the dream, her mind whispered. Almost black, like the horrors lurking in the shadows. Like the blackness in your heart.
"No", she whimpered, clutching the wash basin tightly. "That wasn't me! I'm a good girl!"
Right! Of course! The good little girl who gave two cops the fight of their lives when they arrested you? The one that scared your father half to death? That made your mother cry?
"That's not me! I don't do things like that!" she whispered to the empty room, tears welling in her eyes again.
But you did! Everyone says you did!
"But I didn't mean it! It was a dream!"
They had been so real, so vivid; they hadn't even seemed like dreams, at first. She had been there, felt the loneliness, the terror, the aching desperation, all of them growing nightly. No one could help her; she was alone, as always, as she was meant to be. Watching the demon growing in power. Knowing what he planned. She had to do something, to stop it, to keep it from happening. He was going to destroy the town, her town, kill all the people, and grow stronger.
The dreams had tortured her for almost six weeks. They'd grown in intensity every night, until she dreaded even lying down to sleep, would do anything to postpone the nightly horror. She'd almost stopped eating, had lost 15 pounds from her already spare frame. She was barely managing to sleep two hours a night, fending it off until the exhaustion finally overwhelmed her in the hours just before dawn.
Mom thought I was getting anorexic, I know. She kept making all my favorite stuff, trying to get me to eat, and I'd just pick at it. I know she knew I was smoking, again. How could she miss it? My clothes and my room must've stunk to high heaven, no matter how careful I was! She didn't say anything, really didn't even say much about all the coffee I was swilling down, but I know she was worried. Especially when I brought home such shitty grades at midterm.
How could I tell her I was terrified of my dreams? How could I tell her I was afraid to sleep? That I knew I was going to die if I did?
And then, two nights before, at 3 am, she'd really lost it. Overwhelmed in her dream, terrified beyond sanity, she'd risen from her bed and called 911. Told them lightening was going to strike the school. To destroy him, to stop him. She'd heard the tape when they'd played it for her and her lawyer at the detention center. She hadn't even recognized her own voice in that pathetically wailing scream.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight, staring at herself in the mirror once more.
"Enough, girl!" she told herself. "This crap's getting you nowhere, fast!"
Grabbing her robe, she slipped it on, and then picked up her toiletry bag. At 5:30 am there was bound to be plenty of hot water for a nice, long shower. And no one else in the Adult Unit ever got up this early. She could be the first one to the day room and get some real coffee, not that decaffeinated shit, even taking her time.
Have the TV to herself, too, see what CNN was saying about what was going on in Sunnydale, California, with all that weird shit about a demon snake eating the town.
Her screams as the fire washed over her did wake the whole floor.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A/N – "Bipolar disorder", what was once called "manic/depressive illness", is more than just a plot device. It is a serious mental disorder, affecting millions of people worldwide. Though no one is completely certain of its causes, it is known to usually begin at puberty and seems to be centered in the limbic portion of the brain, where emotions and sleep are regulated. It can cause extreme mood swings, and, in the worst cases, can be mistaken for schizophrenia. The sad fact is that teens afflicted with it commit suicide at twice the normal rate for their age group. If you suspect that you or someone you know might have this disorder, please seek professional medical help or talk to your school counselor. The more severe symptoms of the disorder can be controlled with medication and counseling. The best website I know of for this is: http://www.pendulum.org