Lying In The Garden Sleeping: Part 4
By Vixen
Disclaimer: Joss is god, he must be worshipped. I come baring fanfic in his honor, so do not smite me... cause that's not nice.
The artificial light came flooding through Buffy's eyes, as she blinked; moving very little, but even then the pain came back. Her body felt numb and sort of tingly at the same time. Her mouth was like cotton, and her lips were dry and cracked. Attached to her arm was an IV that was pumping a clear thick liquid into her body.
"Buffy Anne Summers, just what did you think you were doing?" Joyce rose from her chair, to stand above her daughter's hospital bed; her voice was troubled, mingled with a touch of frustration.
"Mom…" Barely able to speak, Buffy realized trying to explain would be a daunting task.
"I was so worried," Letting out a breath she had been holding ever since her daughter had been brought to the hospital three days ago, Joyce continued, "They didn't know if you were going to make it. I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again. Buffy, I love you. You're my daughter, I couldn't-I don't think I could live without you."
"I'm sorry," Buffy coughed.
After a moment, Joyce continued, "You're moving back in with us. I've packed up all the things in your apartment-"
"Mom, no-"
"You need to be watched." Frowning, Buffy's mother persisted, "I don't know what I was even thinking, allowing you to move out."
This was just what she had been worried about, Buffy thought, and regardless of how much she had fought against the inevitable her parents thought she was nuts once again. The freedom she had gained over the past few months, the ability to make her own choices, to go where she pleased, it was all being taken away from her so that she could remain in her parent's house like a prisoner, like an invalid. "Please, I'll be better, I promise… I won't-"
"You're moving back. End of discussion," Looking back at her daughter, Joyce knew how upset this would make her, but she needed to keep her daughter alive, and at the moment this felt like the only way to do that. "I love you, and I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I worry Buffy. I worry that someday you're going to do something like this again, and you won't wake up." They shared a long stare, unable to speak because the words were too upsetting, "I'm going to go call your father. He'll want to know that you're awake."
"Mom," Buffy called out, just as her mother was at the doorway. Joyce stopped, and turned back. "I love you."
"I love you too, sweetie. Now get some rest."
The next few hours were spent staring at the ceiling, trying to count how many dots there were on the ceiling, playing with her IV, entertaining a few visiting relatives and flipping through the television channels but finding nothing good was on. The visit from her father had been nearly as awkward from the first one with her mother. Buffy felt guilty, upsetting them this much, but as the doctors had tried to reassure her and her family, suicide was caused mainly from a chemical imbalance, one she couldn't control.
Chemical imbalance, she grimaced to herself, thinking about the real cause of all of this. Spike was just a chemical imbalance, but slowly she was beginning to believe him. In a way, she had always believed him, ever since he had shown up the night at the club. From the moment she saw him, she knew. Possibly even before that, because she had never felt entirely right in this world, like she didn't belong.
The doctors had come by a few times, adding notes to her chart, recording her progress, making the usual small talk. They had given her some more pills that were supposed to alleviate her 'mind traps', but she knew they wouldn't work. Spike was still out there. It wasn't over.
"Hey," a voice called from the doorway during night visiting hours.
Buffy had been hoping Spike would show up; maybe try to take her away from here again, because now she knew she would go with him. But Buffy knew the voice too well to know who it really was. "Hi, Macy."
"How are you feeling," energetic as always, Macy walked in and placed a few balloons in the corner of the room.
"Like crap."
"Geez, Buff, you scared us," With a serious Buffy didn't know her friend possessed, Macy spoke, "Never ever do that again! God, I had to nearly attack some random guy to get him to drive us to the hospital, and all the while I'm worrying that when we get there you're going to be dead. You're my best friend, you know?" Her rant took on a life of its own as she prattled on, "And I was with you that night, if you had really killed yourself, do you know how I would have felt? The fact that I saw you, and I could have done something, but I was so wrapped up with Alex to notice that you were so upset, and-"
"Macy, slow down, you're going to give yourself a heart attack," Buffy grinned.
Sighing, Macy took a moment. With furrowed brows, she spoke again, slower this time, "Just please don't do that again."
"I won't." Buffy nodded, "I promise."
"Good," Macy sat down in one of the chairs, regaining her bounciness, "Now that that's taken care of… who was that guy who brought you here?"
"What guy," Sitting up in bed, Buffy glanced over at her friend intently.
"Hmm... the really cute one. Bleach blond hair, pale as a ghost, spoke with an English accent."
This was an incredible revelation. If Macy had seen Spike then it could mean a world of possibilities. All this time Buffy had worried that she was going crazy, and now here was Macy saying that she had seen him too. Smiling absently Buffy said simply, "Spike. That was Spike."
"You know someone named 'Spike'? You little rebel, you!"
"What happened? When did you see him?" Or rather 'how', but Buffy didn't want to bring that up. It was better not to tell her about the whole Sunnydale mess.
"I met him outside your apartment." Macy told the tale, "I was bringing back your wallet; you left it in the limo. So I get to your house and he's on the sidewalk trying to catch a cab. Then we brought you here and waited in the waiting room until the doctors said that there was nothing we could do and we might as well go home for the time being."
"Did he say anything when he was here?"
"Nope. Just that maybe it would have been better if he hadn't told you," Curiously, Macy added, "What did he say to you? Is that why you… did… what you did?"
"It wasn't entirely all his fault," Buffy shook her head, "He just told me a few things that I couldn't handle. I wasn't ready, but I think I am now."
"What exactly is going on?" This wasn't like Buffy, Macy thought. She had always been outgoing with her feelings, telling her best friend what was on her mind, but now she had this whole big secret and Macy wanted in on it.
"And I'm not sure really sure, but I need to speak to him."
"When you do, can you give him my number?"
"Macy!" Buffy giggled and chucked her pillow at her friend. Their laughter soon filled the small hospital room. Maybe this wasn't her life, but it wasn't half bad either.
It had been a week until the doctors would sign Buffy's release from the hospital. One week and still no visits from Spike. As she stood at the hospital exit with her mother, waiting for her father to pull the car around, Buffy felt like a door had been shut in her face. There was a chance for her to go back to Sunnydale, to go back to her real life, and she had chosen to hide again. Now Spike was gone, Buffy didn't know if he was coming back, and now she was stuck here in this world, going back to her parent's house where they could treat her like the freak she felt like.
Macy had seen him. Buffy clung to that piece of information as if it were the only thing that could save her, and it probably was. It meant that she wasn't crazy and that someday she might be able to go back to where she belonged. Did she really want to go back to Sunnydale, though? The endless fighting had been enough for her to make the choice to leave, and to destroy her friends in the process, so how would she just go back to being a slayer? Was she ever a slayer anymore? She didn't feel very strong at the moment, she felt weak and fragile.
Moving into her parent's house had been a nightmare, and it had only been the first day. Her parents had went through her stuff, getting rid of any sharp objects she might use to hurt herself, and had placed a lock on the medicine cabinet so now she had to ask them to get her what she needed.
Her bedroom was bigger than the one back at her apartment, but it felt so small. She had set about unpacking the cardboard boxes and putting her belongings into the closet and the dresser.
Buffy picked up a picture frame from a small box. She looked at the picture in it of her family, mom, dad, Buffy. No Dawn. Still, they looked happy, complete. It didn't make sense, Buffy thought as she placed it on the windowsill.
Her green eyes turned upward, out the second story window, into the suburban town and recalled her childhood. She had grown up here; she could remember learning to ride a bike and falling onto the neighbor's lawn. Or the water balloon fight with her friend Mike, he had since moved out to Chicago. But how could she even know that? How did she know the town's layout, with each block containing a different memory, if she hadn't been there to make the memories in the first place?
"It just doesn't make sense," Buffy sighed inwardly, afraid that with Spike gone it never would.
After about a month spent living at her parent's house, Buffy had gotten used to it. It was even nice to have her family around, at least sometimes it was. Other times she missed the quietness of her old apartment.
That night, like many others, she was hanging out in her room after a long day at work. The television was on, but it was just background noise while she was busy making a scrapbook. It was just something to do, to keep her preoccupied and not bored out of her mind. Macy had called before, but she was out on the town now. It must be nice, Buffy mused, not to be stuck in the house because your parents don't trust you to be by yourself. Her mother had even taken away her scissors when she saw her making the scrapbook, now Buffy was relegated to using some cheap kindergarten scissors that didn't cut through anything.
Finally Buffy gave up and went over to the window. Her eyes passed over the neighbor's yard and were surprised to see someone standing over by the trees. Buffy opened the window, and leaned out, trying to catch a better glimpse of the stranger.
As soon as she did, though, he had headed away from the yard and down the street. Buffy squinted, and in the moonlight she could see the blond hair and leather jacket. "Spike!" She called out, though she knew he couldn't hear her, "Damn it."
Hurrying down the stairs, making as little noise as possible, Buffy crept towards the front door. She had to get to him before he left.
Right as she was turning the doorknob, her mother showed up behind her. "Buffy, where are you going? You know you have a curfew."
"Mom, I have to go out. It's important."
"It can't wait till morning," Joyce sternly stepped between her daughter and the front door. "Besides, diner is almost ready."
"No, mom, it really can't wait."
"I'm not letting you leave, Buffy."
"Please, I don't have time for this."
"No," Joyce simply replied, but still her voice commanded attention.
"Fine, fine," Buffy shouted, "Just continue to treat me like a child." Turning and running back up the stairs, she pouted. Once in her bedroom, she slammed the door. Crossing her arms against her chest, Buffy started to get even more upset, "Now how am I supposed to talk to him?" Gazing at the window, where she had seen him leave, she started to get an idea.
She could probably fit out the window; she mused, and then use the drain pipe as a step ladder. Opening the window, she looked down to the ground and gulped. It was a really long way down; she'd probably wind up back at the hospital if she fell, or worse.
Still, she grimaced placing a leg through the window, she had to see him; she had to at least tell him that she was sorry for not believing him. And maybe he could get her back to Sunnydale, and home at last.
The whole climbing-down-the-drainpipe wasn't as hard as she thought it would be, Buffy figured it was all that practice she had gotten when she had first moved to Sunnydale. Unfortunately, it had been a different world and a long time ago since her sneaking out of windows thing ended, and her body wasn't quite as up to the challenge anymore, she realized as she grabbed a loose piece of the side of the house and came crashing down into the gardenias.
Brushing herself off, she checked for bruises. There were none, but she was still sure she would be hurting in the morning. Making sure no one had seen her little escapade; she took a few quick glances around and then headed off down the street to track down the vampire.
TO BE CONTINUED…
By Vixen
Disclaimer: Joss is god, he must be worshipped. I come baring fanfic in his honor, so do not smite me... cause that's not nice.
The artificial light came flooding through Buffy's eyes, as she blinked; moving very little, but even then the pain came back. Her body felt numb and sort of tingly at the same time. Her mouth was like cotton, and her lips were dry and cracked. Attached to her arm was an IV that was pumping a clear thick liquid into her body.
"Buffy Anne Summers, just what did you think you were doing?" Joyce rose from her chair, to stand above her daughter's hospital bed; her voice was troubled, mingled with a touch of frustration.
"Mom…" Barely able to speak, Buffy realized trying to explain would be a daunting task.
"I was so worried," Letting out a breath she had been holding ever since her daughter had been brought to the hospital three days ago, Joyce continued, "They didn't know if you were going to make it. I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again. Buffy, I love you. You're my daughter, I couldn't-I don't think I could live without you."
"I'm sorry," Buffy coughed.
After a moment, Joyce continued, "You're moving back in with us. I've packed up all the things in your apartment-"
"Mom, no-"
"You need to be watched." Frowning, Buffy's mother persisted, "I don't know what I was even thinking, allowing you to move out."
This was just what she had been worried about, Buffy thought, and regardless of how much she had fought against the inevitable her parents thought she was nuts once again. The freedom she had gained over the past few months, the ability to make her own choices, to go where she pleased, it was all being taken away from her so that she could remain in her parent's house like a prisoner, like an invalid. "Please, I'll be better, I promise… I won't-"
"You're moving back. End of discussion," Looking back at her daughter, Joyce knew how upset this would make her, but she needed to keep her daughter alive, and at the moment this felt like the only way to do that. "I love you, and I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I worry Buffy. I worry that someday you're going to do something like this again, and you won't wake up." They shared a long stare, unable to speak because the words were too upsetting, "I'm going to go call your father. He'll want to know that you're awake."
"Mom," Buffy called out, just as her mother was at the doorway. Joyce stopped, and turned back. "I love you."
"I love you too, sweetie. Now get some rest."
The next few hours were spent staring at the ceiling, trying to count how many dots there were on the ceiling, playing with her IV, entertaining a few visiting relatives and flipping through the television channels but finding nothing good was on. The visit from her father had been nearly as awkward from the first one with her mother. Buffy felt guilty, upsetting them this much, but as the doctors had tried to reassure her and her family, suicide was caused mainly from a chemical imbalance, one she couldn't control.
Chemical imbalance, she grimaced to herself, thinking about the real cause of all of this. Spike was just a chemical imbalance, but slowly she was beginning to believe him. In a way, she had always believed him, ever since he had shown up the night at the club. From the moment she saw him, she knew. Possibly even before that, because she had never felt entirely right in this world, like she didn't belong.
The doctors had come by a few times, adding notes to her chart, recording her progress, making the usual small talk. They had given her some more pills that were supposed to alleviate her 'mind traps', but she knew they wouldn't work. Spike was still out there. It wasn't over.
"Hey," a voice called from the doorway during night visiting hours.
Buffy had been hoping Spike would show up; maybe try to take her away from here again, because now she knew she would go with him. But Buffy knew the voice too well to know who it really was. "Hi, Macy."
"How are you feeling," energetic as always, Macy walked in and placed a few balloons in the corner of the room.
"Like crap."
"Geez, Buff, you scared us," With a serious Buffy didn't know her friend possessed, Macy spoke, "Never ever do that again! God, I had to nearly attack some random guy to get him to drive us to the hospital, and all the while I'm worrying that when we get there you're going to be dead. You're my best friend, you know?" Her rant took on a life of its own as she prattled on, "And I was with you that night, if you had really killed yourself, do you know how I would have felt? The fact that I saw you, and I could have done something, but I was so wrapped up with Alex to notice that you were so upset, and-"
"Macy, slow down, you're going to give yourself a heart attack," Buffy grinned.
Sighing, Macy took a moment. With furrowed brows, she spoke again, slower this time, "Just please don't do that again."
"I won't." Buffy nodded, "I promise."
"Good," Macy sat down in one of the chairs, regaining her bounciness, "Now that that's taken care of… who was that guy who brought you here?"
"What guy," Sitting up in bed, Buffy glanced over at her friend intently.
"Hmm... the really cute one. Bleach blond hair, pale as a ghost, spoke with an English accent."
This was an incredible revelation. If Macy had seen Spike then it could mean a world of possibilities. All this time Buffy had worried that she was going crazy, and now here was Macy saying that she had seen him too. Smiling absently Buffy said simply, "Spike. That was Spike."
"You know someone named 'Spike'? You little rebel, you!"
"What happened? When did you see him?" Or rather 'how', but Buffy didn't want to bring that up. It was better not to tell her about the whole Sunnydale mess.
"I met him outside your apartment." Macy told the tale, "I was bringing back your wallet; you left it in the limo. So I get to your house and he's on the sidewalk trying to catch a cab. Then we brought you here and waited in the waiting room until the doctors said that there was nothing we could do and we might as well go home for the time being."
"Did he say anything when he was here?"
"Nope. Just that maybe it would have been better if he hadn't told you," Curiously, Macy added, "What did he say to you? Is that why you… did… what you did?"
"It wasn't entirely all his fault," Buffy shook her head, "He just told me a few things that I couldn't handle. I wasn't ready, but I think I am now."
"What exactly is going on?" This wasn't like Buffy, Macy thought. She had always been outgoing with her feelings, telling her best friend what was on her mind, but now she had this whole big secret and Macy wanted in on it.
"And I'm not sure really sure, but I need to speak to him."
"When you do, can you give him my number?"
"Macy!" Buffy giggled and chucked her pillow at her friend. Their laughter soon filled the small hospital room. Maybe this wasn't her life, but it wasn't half bad either.
It had been a week until the doctors would sign Buffy's release from the hospital. One week and still no visits from Spike. As she stood at the hospital exit with her mother, waiting for her father to pull the car around, Buffy felt like a door had been shut in her face. There was a chance for her to go back to Sunnydale, to go back to her real life, and she had chosen to hide again. Now Spike was gone, Buffy didn't know if he was coming back, and now she was stuck here in this world, going back to her parent's house where they could treat her like the freak she felt like.
Macy had seen him. Buffy clung to that piece of information as if it were the only thing that could save her, and it probably was. It meant that she wasn't crazy and that someday she might be able to go back to where she belonged. Did she really want to go back to Sunnydale, though? The endless fighting had been enough for her to make the choice to leave, and to destroy her friends in the process, so how would she just go back to being a slayer? Was she ever a slayer anymore? She didn't feel very strong at the moment, she felt weak and fragile.
Moving into her parent's house had been a nightmare, and it had only been the first day. Her parents had went through her stuff, getting rid of any sharp objects she might use to hurt herself, and had placed a lock on the medicine cabinet so now she had to ask them to get her what she needed.
Her bedroom was bigger than the one back at her apartment, but it felt so small. She had set about unpacking the cardboard boxes and putting her belongings into the closet and the dresser.
Buffy picked up a picture frame from a small box. She looked at the picture in it of her family, mom, dad, Buffy. No Dawn. Still, they looked happy, complete. It didn't make sense, Buffy thought as she placed it on the windowsill.
Her green eyes turned upward, out the second story window, into the suburban town and recalled her childhood. She had grown up here; she could remember learning to ride a bike and falling onto the neighbor's lawn. Or the water balloon fight with her friend Mike, he had since moved out to Chicago. But how could she even know that? How did she know the town's layout, with each block containing a different memory, if she hadn't been there to make the memories in the first place?
"It just doesn't make sense," Buffy sighed inwardly, afraid that with Spike gone it never would.
After about a month spent living at her parent's house, Buffy had gotten used to it. It was even nice to have her family around, at least sometimes it was. Other times she missed the quietness of her old apartment.
That night, like many others, she was hanging out in her room after a long day at work. The television was on, but it was just background noise while she was busy making a scrapbook. It was just something to do, to keep her preoccupied and not bored out of her mind. Macy had called before, but she was out on the town now. It must be nice, Buffy mused, not to be stuck in the house because your parents don't trust you to be by yourself. Her mother had even taken away her scissors when she saw her making the scrapbook, now Buffy was relegated to using some cheap kindergarten scissors that didn't cut through anything.
Finally Buffy gave up and went over to the window. Her eyes passed over the neighbor's yard and were surprised to see someone standing over by the trees. Buffy opened the window, and leaned out, trying to catch a better glimpse of the stranger.
As soon as she did, though, he had headed away from the yard and down the street. Buffy squinted, and in the moonlight she could see the blond hair and leather jacket. "Spike!" She called out, though she knew he couldn't hear her, "Damn it."
Hurrying down the stairs, making as little noise as possible, Buffy crept towards the front door. She had to get to him before he left.
Right as she was turning the doorknob, her mother showed up behind her. "Buffy, where are you going? You know you have a curfew."
"Mom, I have to go out. It's important."
"It can't wait till morning," Joyce sternly stepped between her daughter and the front door. "Besides, diner is almost ready."
"No, mom, it really can't wait."
"I'm not letting you leave, Buffy."
"Please, I don't have time for this."
"No," Joyce simply replied, but still her voice commanded attention.
"Fine, fine," Buffy shouted, "Just continue to treat me like a child." Turning and running back up the stairs, she pouted. Once in her bedroom, she slammed the door. Crossing her arms against her chest, Buffy started to get even more upset, "Now how am I supposed to talk to him?" Gazing at the window, where she had seen him leave, she started to get an idea.
She could probably fit out the window; she mused, and then use the drain pipe as a step ladder. Opening the window, she looked down to the ground and gulped. It was a really long way down; she'd probably wind up back at the hospital if she fell, or worse.
Still, she grimaced placing a leg through the window, she had to see him; she had to at least tell him that she was sorry for not believing him. And maybe he could get her back to Sunnydale, and home at last.
The whole climbing-down-the-drainpipe wasn't as hard as she thought it would be, Buffy figured it was all that practice she had gotten when she had first moved to Sunnydale. Unfortunately, it had been a different world and a long time ago since her sneaking out of windows thing ended, and her body wasn't quite as up to the challenge anymore, she realized as she grabbed a loose piece of the side of the house and came crashing down into the gardenias.
Brushing herself off, she checked for bruises. There were none, but she was still sure she would be hurting in the morning. Making sure no one had seen her little escapade; she took a few quick glances around and then headed off down the street to track down the vampire.
TO BE CONTINUED…