Chapter Three: A world apart

Buffy remembered what it was like when she first had come to this strange depiction of the world she had lived in. It was overwhelming to see so many old and familiar faces used in the setting of this, so called mental ward. In some ways, it was disheartening as to how they were used. Whatever demon, or person, had conjured up this uber-sort of reality had gone a long way.

Sitting in her padded room, Buffy paced as she thought about Spike, now Dr. William Walsh. He was kind, yet not entirely the Spike she remembered. Not the one who was so taken with her in his own weird sense.

Buffy sighed. Could she really get to him? Was he the link to separating herself from this bizarre plane of existence?

Her attention was diverted as there was a knock to her cell and she found herself frozen as she saw who it was that came through. Pushing a cart with man meals on trays, a goofy looking man with big ears, whistled the theme to "Star Wars" as he took a tray off of the cart.

"Mornin', Anne. How are you today?"

Xander.

This was the first time she had encountered his doppelganger, his otherworldly persona in this strange place.

"Xander?" She looked at him in disbelief.

Xander nodded, "Not too many know my name, or care to remember it. Here's your mac'n cheese along with a spork. Miss Jenkins will be by shortly to do your bathing, just a reminder; and hey, try to put in a good word for me with her, will ya?" His, as usual, goofy smile spread across his face as he laid Buffy's tray in front of her.

Buffy felt like crying. Xander seemed to be oblivious to knowing her as did Giles, Dawn, and Spike. She wondered how much more she could take of this world.

"See ya later, Anne." Xander said as he then left the room.

Dr. William Walsh sat behind his desk as Riley and Liam came in with a Miss Willow Rosenberg, who continually struggled against the hulking men, as they placed her firmly in the seat in front of Dr. Walsh.

Looking over her case study, while only glimpsing at her a few moments, William was astounded by reading her case study to find out that this brazen woman was once one of the brilliant members of her year at Sunnydale High. Unfortunately, according to her file, her lover, a Miss Tara Maclay, and a friend of theirs, Amy Madison, had all been involved in Witchcraft. Harmless, at first, according to recorded statements by all the girls' parents, their practice of the craft soon became increasingly violent which led to isolation from their families and their peers. While Miss Madison's whereabouts were unconfirmed, both Willow and Tara had experienced something more dark. Tara, for some reason, had fallen into a catatonic-state, being oblivious to the whole world around her and everyone in it. Willow, on the other hand, had gone off the deep end and fell into a schizophrenic state, believing, in her own mind, that she was a powerful Witch, capable of the most supernatural. She had been restricted to a straight jacket as she was violently attacking the orderly and hospital staff. Willow's eyes starred narrowingly at William as he set down her case file and turned on his tape recorder, before addressing her.

"Good Morning, Miss Rosenberg. How are you today?"

Willow blew some stray hairs that had curtained her face as she continued to stare venomously at Dr. Walsh.

"What do you think, doc?"

Dr. Walsh sighed and looked down at her file. "It seems you're fighting the Thorazene we've been giving you. Don't you realize we're trying to help you, Miss Rosenberg?"

Willow closed her eyes and began chanting, "Hathos…Greeda…Secilous…Doona…"

William sighed, "What are you doing?"

Willow threw her head back and cackled, which took William by surprise.

"I'm making your person as small as your feeble brain, you pathetic mortal!"

Dr. Walsh leaned forward and wrote some notes down on his desk. As he did so, he noticed something from Miss Rosenberg. She seemed to be watching.

The Orderly, Riley, behind Willow, looked at is watch. "Doc, we have to take her back now for electroshock treatment."

Dr. Walsh sighed and nodded. "He then noticed Willow's whole demeanor changed by the term "electroshock treatment" as she began pleading.

"No! No! I won't go back there again! Tara! Please! Help me! Buffy! Spike!"

"Wait." William said, surprised at the names Willow chose to call for help.

Riley sighed, "Doc, you better make it quick."

William nodded he looked to Willow. "How do you know Miss Summers, Miss Rosenberg?"

Willow looked away as if trying to find an answer to move around the name she had blurted out. "S-Someone said, it." She said, feebly.

William studied her and then waived a dismissive hand to Riley and he proceeded to escort her out the room, all the while she continued to struggle.

As soon as she had left with the orderlies, William stopped his tape recorder, rewound it, and then played it back and listened to the part where she made her frantic cries, omitting Anne Summer's name "Buffy" along with William's childhood name, "Spike". What troubled Dr. Walsh, was that first, there was no written account of Miss Rosenberg and Miss Summers having ever come into contact with eachother, neither here nor outside the institute before admission. Secondly, the two couldn't have possibly have been discussed of in front of either one, as the staffs on their floors were separate and discussion of patients was strictly forbidden. It was a puzzle, as was her knowledge of his childhood name, like Miss Summers had known.

Dr. William Walsh decided to write a note to ask Miss Summers about her knowledge of Willow Rosenberg during their next session.

Buffy was beginning to feel that whoever had created this world for to be trapped in either had a sick idea in mind or was completely psychotic. However, they did seem to get all the facts right, even with the personalities of the people she knew.

"All men are pigs, it's a pity that God hadn't turned them all into ones and left us with the decent bunch of the group."

Anya, or the person who resembled her, was giving waiting outside the shower room, smoking a cigarette, leaning against the side of the shower stall. "Take the men on this staff. I know ALL of them are just waiting for me to bend over to pick up something in hopes they'll get a good look at my goods. Trust me, Summers, they should ALL be locked up here. At least the insane ones have common decency."

Buffy tried not to laugh, remembering her Anya in all her "male-hating" ways both as the demon Anyanka and as her human persona, Anya Jenkins.

As soon as Buffy had finished cleansing herself, she was refitted with the pearly-white T-shirt and sweat pants that the hospital had. Anya escorted her down a long corridor past multiple rooms, where several of the inhabitants pressed their faces against the window as she passed. Some of them Buffy recognized. One of them was the Mayor of Sunnydale, whose mouth was disgustingly frothing. Another was Glory who seemed to be singing.

Buffy shook her head; someone had really dug deep.

They were about to enter her own room, when Spike, or Dr. Walsh, as he was called here; came up.

"Miss Summers, care to take a walk with me?"

"Careful Summers." Anya said, scowling at Spike, "This one looks like one of "them"." She walked away as Buffy walked out of her room with Spike.

"What did she mean by that?" Dr. Walsh asked her.

Buffy sighed, "Anya's being Anya, that's all. Where are we going?"

Spike then looked at her, questioningly. "You aren't going to try and run again, are you Miss Summers?"

Buffy stood straight and raised two fingers. "Scout's honor."

Spike smiled and nodded, he walked with her down the hall toward a hallway she hadn't been to, so far.

"Do you know of a Miss Rosenberg, Miss Summers?" He asked, not looking at her as they continued on ahead.

Buffy looked at him, studying his face. "Willow?" She asked.

William smiled, "I'll take that as a 'yes', then. Yes, Miss Willow Rosenberg, do you know her?"

Buffy nodded, "I know Will', sure. I went to school with her here at Sunnydale High."

Spike raised a finger, "Aw, but here's the thing, Miss Summers, you haven't."

Buffy scowled at him in confusion, as they continued down the hallway, briefly before stopping in front of a large window looking in on a room where patients were strapped to their beds.

William continued, not telling her why they were here, "You, Miss Summers, have never before been to Sunnydale, California until your younger sister admitted you to this institute about three months ago. Do you remember why?"

Buffy decided she had better play along if she was ever going to gain his trust, no matter how convoluted this story was that he was telling her.

"No, I don't." She replied and she feigned an innocent look.

William directed her attention to the window to the right of them and Buffy looked on in. To her surprise, a lot of the patients in there resembled vamps, only their faces were redder, scarred, and their eyes looked more human than inhuman.

Are these the "vampires" you've been "slaying", Anne?" He asked her.

Buffy looked around at them and add more to her astonishment, one of them closely resembled "The Master". She could see the clipboard that was on his bed and saw that this man's name was Harry Gerber.

Buffy sighed, she tried to regain her composer and act innocent, again. "Sort of." She answered.

Spike smiled, "Well, they're not "Vampires", Miss Summers. They're fire victims, burn victims, and victims of disfigurement. All of whom have been admitted here due to a psychological problem attributed to their looks." He looked to Buffy as if she was a long lost friend. "Anne, don't you realize what you have mistaken? At your school in Los Angeles, you, and your boyfriend, Oliver Pike, had burnt down the gymnasium out of vengeance against the man who had raped you at a very young age, Mr. Albert Merrick."

You've got to be kidding me. Buffy thought. Is this the best they can come up with to try and convince me that I'm insane?

William continued, "It was after the fire, seeing the victims that, I believe, you were so traumatized by the experience that sort of lashed out against people who resembled those that you had hurt, people who looked like this." He indicated toward the patients behind the window.

"It was after your arrest for killing a homeless man, that your sister and your lawyer had the judge admit you here, to Sunnydale Institute. You Sister felt a change of scenery from LA would do you some good. So, you can see, Miss Summers, you have never before set foot into Sunnydale, California. Therefore, I ask you, how do you and Willow Rosenberg know of eachother?"

Buffy smiled, "I'm a Slayer, she's a Witch, you are not who you think you are, and this place doesn't exist. That's how."

William sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "Well, maybe for now, but soon both you and Miss Rosenberg will discover that you're not who YOU say you are and that you've been living a delusion." William then led her back to her room and Riley, the orderly, closed the door.

William watched her through the small window of her room as she went to the back of her padded place and sat in the far-left corner.

Dr. William Walsh watched her with sadness. She was lucid, but only to an extent. Very intelligent, lively, yet withdrawn from the world like so many others that suffered from the disorder.

How does she know so much about Miss Rosenberg? William thought to himself. He decided that he'd better discuss this with Dr. Giles and keep closer study on both Miss Summers and Miss Rosenberg. He then turned and left.

Buffy rocked herself as she sat on the floor of her room. There was a certain comfort she felt from the discussion she had with "Dr. Spike". Willow was here and for some reason she knew Buffy. Now, Buffy felt content that maybe, between the two of them, they could figure out why they were here and how to get out.

To be continued…

A/N: Due to the other stories I'm writing, this one will be placed on the back burner, at least for awhile. I need more reviews to really motivate me (about two or three will do) to complete this more and more often. Not to be shallow, but if there isn't any interest then I fail to have any in writing these.

So, tit for tat. You review, I'll keep on writing.

Q-n-P