Chapter 13: Different
Buffy was fighting unknown demons who ironically smelled like latex gloves. Spike was at her side, fighting hard. He slipped up and the monster clawed him to shreds. She screamed, and was crying hysterically. But, before she could reach his side, he disappeared. The surrounding environment faded as well and she was left in darkness. The glove smell became stronger, almost nauseating. She jerked awake, still screaming.
"Spike! Spike?!"
She was surrounded by bleach-white padded walls. She tried to move her arms but found herself contained by a straight-jacket. Her chest was heaving and tears still poured down her face. The door, made to look like the wall, was slung open.
A comatose man sat, unblinking. A red-headed nurse prepared a syringe. She took his right arm and almost punctured his skin with the needle. Suddenly, he jerked awake. He squinted at the blinding whiteness of his surroundings.
"Mr. Cunningham?!
Spike's hair was a light brown, and his eyes were the same stone grey. His same British accent lingered.
"Where am I?!"
"An asylum in Northern Michigan. Are you alright, Shane?"
"Who?!"
"You're Shane Cunningham. You were transferred from
London."
He looked quizzically at her, recognizing her.
"Willow?!"
"How did you-"
"Where's Buffy?!"
She cocked her head.
"This 'Buffy' is real? You're a schizophrenic, so I just
assumed she was imaginary."
A round of blood-curdling screams echoed through the hall.
"Spike?! Spike?! Help me! Help, Spike!"
Willow sighed.
"That's Anna. It seemed she's got a ranting problem, like
you."
He ran, busting through his door, toward the screams. He found a door to a cell open, it was filled with frantic nurses strapping a frail girl to the bed. Her hair was pitch-black , but it was definitely Buffy.
"Buffy?!"
The nearest nurse stuck a needle into her arm. Buffy winced and fell limp onto the bed. She was fighting for air, almost hyperventilating.
"Spike..."
He ran to her side, pushing nurses out of his path. Several tattoos decorated her forearms. She touched his face, feeling the warmth of a man.
"You're alive!"
He smoothed her disheveled hair against her face.
"Yeah, love."
She began to cry and squeaked out,
"I just got so lost...I was calling you and calling you. Why is
this happening?"
Her eyelids were drooping, an obvious effect of the medicine.
"We've got to get out of here."
But she was out. He unstrapped her, the nurses objected in unison. Willow stepped from the crowd.
"Shane, don't! She's a dangerous killer. She's psychotic!"
But before he had a chance to move, a nearby nurse stabbed him with a syringe. His knees buckled and his body went limp.
Buffy was fighting unknown demons who ironically smelled like latex gloves. Spike was at her side, fighting hard. He slipped up and the monster clawed him to shreds. She screamed, and was crying hysterically. But, before she could reach his side, he disappeared. The surrounding environment faded as well and she was left in darkness. The glove smell became stronger, almost nauseating. She jerked awake, still screaming.
"Spike! Spike?!"
She was surrounded by bleach-white padded walls. She tried to move her arms but found herself contained by a straight-jacket. Her chest was heaving and tears still poured down her face. The door, made to look like the wall, was slung open.
A comatose man sat, unblinking. A red-headed nurse prepared a syringe. She took his right arm and almost punctured his skin with the needle. Suddenly, he jerked awake. He squinted at the blinding whiteness of his surroundings.
"Mr. Cunningham?!
Spike's hair was a light brown, and his eyes were the same stone grey. His same British accent lingered.
"Where am I?!"
"An asylum in Northern Michigan. Are you alright, Shane?"
"Who?!"
"You're Shane Cunningham. You were transferred from
London."
He looked quizzically at her, recognizing her.
"Willow?!"
"How did you-"
"Where's Buffy?!"
She cocked her head.
"This 'Buffy' is real? You're a schizophrenic, so I just
assumed she was imaginary."
A round of blood-curdling screams echoed through the hall.
"Spike?! Spike?! Help me! Help, Spike!"
Willow sighed.
"That's Anna. It seemed she's got a ranting problem, like
you."
He ran, busting through his door, toward the screams. He found a door to a cell open, it was filled with frantic nurses strapping a frail girl to the bed. Her hair was pitch-black , but it was definitely Buffy.
"Buffy?!"
The nearest nurse stuck a needle into her arm. Buffy winced and fell limp onto the bed. She was fighting for air, almost hyperventilating.
"Spike..."
He ran to her side, pushing nurses out of his path. Several tattoos decorated her forearms. She touched his face, feeling the warmth of a man.
"You're alive!"
He smoothed her disheveled hair against her face.
"Yeah, love."
She began to cry and squeaked out,
"I just got so lost...I was calling you and calling you. Why is
this happening?"
Her eyelids were drooping, an obvious effect of the medicine.
"We've got to get out of here."
But she was out. He unstrapped her, the nurses objected in unison. Willow stepped from the crowd.
"Shane, don't! She's a dangerous killer. She's psychotic!"
But before he had a chance to move, a nearby nurse stabbed him with a syringe. His knees buckled and his body went limp.