TWENTY-ONE
* * *
In time their session ended. She went quietly back to the ward with the orderly. There was a fatigue to her and Garrett took a moment to consider it. Buffy Summers was now, to all outward appearances, much more insane than she had been before. He recalled the ward report, recalled the words of the orderlies as they described her fighting, screaming, weeping in pain and fear.
He was relieved that the parents had not seen this.
And he was relieved too, that she had fought, that she had screamed, that she had hurt and been afraid.
For the battle for Buffy Summers was well under way now. She was alive, no longer an unmoving piece of furniture. Gone were her accusing stares, her insistence that all he wanted was for her to abandon her reality. There was a measure of trust now, fragile still but a beginning. She understood that he was not her enemy, not the enemy of her creations. And there was war, inside her.
For her.
She had told him a great deal in the past few weeks.
Merrick. Lothos.
Sunnydale High School. Cheerleading and friends and a watcher and a witch.
The Master.
Angel.
On and on until now, until Anya and Tara and Spike and Dawn.
Spike.
Garrett marveled for a moment at the extent of her guilt, her shame. This was a deep thing that went far beyond her penchant for vampires, for dangerous fantasy men. It was a fear of herself, of what she might do to a lover who was not already scarred, already broken.
She loves, so deeply, so powerfully, that her own flaws become magnified. She does not believe she can be good enough for a good man.
Is there a good man in her universe? Can there be?
Garrett thought again about the ward report. There would be many more reports like it before this was settled, if ever. Because Buffy Summers was fighting now.
Fighting for her life.
Perhaps she could slay something more than a vampire this time.
#
Perhaps.
They had a site, a time. Andrew had chosen it, had picked through it carefully, as he and Warren watched. Warren never looked at him, never said a word unless it was an order.
You know your place in this? You know what you have to do?
I know.
You screw this up, Jonathan, and ....
I know.
He had his things, those things he needed. It shouldn't be hard; just keep it all hidden. He was good at that, Jonathan was. As a boy he had always kept secrets well, as a teenager even better.
He had kept them so well there had never been a need to belong.
Warren turned, looked at him. He had that gaze it was hard to return.
You know what you have to do?
Jonathan nodded.
I know.
* * *
In time their session ended. She went quietly back to the ward with the orderly. There was a fatigue to her and Garrett took a moment to consider it. Buffy Summers was now, to all outward appearances, much more insane than she had been before. He recalled the ward report, recalled the words of the orderlies as they described her fighting, screaming, weeping in pain and fear.
He was relieved that the parents had not seen this.
And he was relieved too, that she had fought, that she had screamed, that she had hurt and been afraid.
For the battle for Buffy Summers was well under way now. She was alive, no longer an unmoving piece of furniture. Gone were her accusing stares, her insistence that all he wanted was for her to abandon her reality. There was a measure of trust now, fragile still but a beginning. She understood that he was not her enemy, not the enemy of her creations. And there was war, inside her.
For her.
She had told him a great deal in the past few weeks.
Merrick. Lothos.
Sunnydale High School. Cheerleading and friends and a watcher and a witch.
The Master.
Angel.
On and on until now, until Anya and Tara and Spike and Dawn.
Spike.
Garrett marveled for a moment at the extent of her guilt, her shame. This was a deep thing that went far beyond her penchant for vampires, for dangerous fantasy men. It was a fear of herself, of what she might do to a lover who was not already scarred, already broken.
She loves, so deeply, so powerfully, that her own flaws become magnified. She does not believe she can be good enough for a good man.
Is there a good man in her universe? Can there be?
Garrett thought again about the ward report. There would be many more reports like it before this was settled, if ever. Because Buffy Summers was fighting now.
Fighting for her life.
Perhaps she could slay something more than a vampire this time.
#
Perhaps.
They had a site, a time. Andrew had chosen it, had picked through it carefully, as he and Warren watched. Warren never looked at him, never said a word unless it was an order.
You know your place in this? You know what you have to do?
I know.
You screw this up, Jonathan, and ....
I know.
He had his things, those things he needed. It shouldn't be hard; just keep it all hidden. He was good at that, Jonathan was. As a boy he had always kept secrets well, as a teenager even better.
He had kept them so well there had never been a need to belong.
Warren turned, looked at him. He had that gaze it was hard to return.
You know what you have to do?
Jonathan nodded.
I know.
