[Date Prev][Date Next][Thread Prev][Thread Next][Date Index][Thread Index]
FF Stranger in my house (7/10)
Okay guys, well we're getting closer to the end.:-) Heh, I actually know
what chapter this one is going to end on now.:-) Hope you enjoy the rest of
the ride, and remember to keep your hands fully inside this contraption
until it comes to a complete stop.:-) Thank you, and have a great day.BG
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss...I simply borrow them for my
own amusement.
Feedback.:-) please.:-)
Chapter Seven: What curiosity got the cat
I will remember days in Avalon;
I will remember nights in your arms.
I will remember days in Avalon,
And I will recall every moment.
Like days in the sun.
Richard Marx
The wretched desert takes it's form,
The jackal proud and tight,
In search of you I feel my way,
Through slowest heaving night
Whatever fear invents,
I swear it make no sense
I reach out through the border fence
Come down, come talk to me
In the swirling curling storm of desire
Unuttered words hold fast
With reptile tongue the lightning lashes
Towers built to last
Darkness creeps in like a thief
And offers no relief
Why are you shaking like a leaf?
Come on, come talk to me
Ah please talk to me
Won't you please talk to me
We can unlock this misery
Come on, come talk to me
I did not come to steal
This all is so unreal
Can't you show me how you feel
Come on, come talk to me
I can imagine the moment
Breaking out through the silence
All the things that we both might say
And the heart it will not be denied
'Til we're both on the same damn side
All the barriers blown away
I said please talk to me
Won't you please come talk to me
Just like it used to be
Come on, come talk to me
I did not come to steal
This all is so unreal
Can you show me how you feel now
Come on, come talk to me
Peter Gabriel
So, I guess I'm back to writing in this old thing again...I've kinda missed
updating it for the past few days, with everything that was going on I just
didn't have the time for it. Or the words to put what was happening down on
paper. I can say, it's been the strangest few
days of my life...that I can remember anyway.
I'm not quite sure how to start with this. My thoughts are pretty jumbled
up right now, going from one thing to the next without really stopping to
examine it completely. I guess that's kind of what this thing is for. To
help me straighten out the mess.
I guess I can start with the freaky occurance at the Bronze, although the
feeling of things being kept from me started hitting me way before we ever
got to the Bronze. I could probably brush off what happened there as
somebody drugging my drink if it hadn't been for the dreams that I had later
that night. I'm not sure what happened after I ran out of there, I only
really remember half of it...just more craziness to ponder. In fact, if it
didn't so closely match the dream I had after I got home, I'd probably
forget the whole incident.
So, I've been pretty much trying to figure out what all of the strangeness
means, and not getting a whole lot of answers. That's when I started to
figure out that maybe they weren't telling me the whole truth...just an
edited version of it. Well, there was that...and then
there was the paper I found in the picture frame. I found that totally by
accident though...
*****
Willow had just left, after eating a very hearty breakfast of waffles and
whipped cream, home fried potatoes and Kosher bacon, (Buffy was a little
surprised that her mother kept some in the freezer for just such an
occasion), and Buffy found herself missing her friend already. It was plain
to see that the redhead had wormed her way under her skin, tugging at a soul
deep connection that the amnesiac was starting to think had always been
there. She still didn't quite know where that connection began and ended,
but she knew it ran deep.
Taking a glance at her mother, who was clearing the table, Buffy decided to
voice the question that was forefront on her mind. "Mom, how long have me
and Will been friends?"
Joyce almost dropped the plates that she had been holding, letting them go
with a clatter into the sink. She darted a look towards her daughter,
trying to decide if there were any possible hidden meanings behind the
question. Buffy's face was guileless in appearance,
although she could have sworn she saw wheels turning in the back of her
blonde head. 'I knew Willow sleeping over was a dangerous idea.' Joyce
thought, wondering how much damage control she would have to provide.
"Willow and you? Well, you've been best friends ever since we moved
here...I guess that was your sophmore year in high school...so about four
years now." Joyce answered, tentatively. "Why do you ask?" Her voice
careful neutrality.
'Hmmm. Four years is a long time to get to know a person. I wonder why,
then, do I only have one picture of us together?' Buffy thought, kicking
the question over in her head. But to her waiting mother, she merely
replied. "No biggie. Was just wondering." Before she got up from the
table, excusing herself, and wandering into the living room.
Joyce followed her daughter's movements with worried eyes, wondering just
when all hell would break loose, knowing her daughter, the wait wouldn't be
long.
*****
Buffy tried really hard to concentrate on the books that Willow had brought
over, she really did, but somewhere between the second daydream and the
third time she read the same page over again, she got the feeling that
homework never had been her strong suit. She suddenly remembered a hazy
memory. A vision of Willow sitting alone on a bench,
watching other kids passing by from the safety found beneath the brim of a
too wide hat. She remembered introducing herself to the painfully shy girl,
then asking her for a favor. 'Help me with my homework?' Well, not the
best way to introduce yourself to somebody, but it seemed that was the way
they had hit it off. She wondered what Willow would do if
she called her up and asked for her help again. Well, she probably wasn't
even home yet, so that was a moot point, not that she knew where home was,
and suddenly it occured to her that there was a lot about her 'best friend'
that she didn't know.
Dropping her books on the couch, where she had been sitting for the better
part of the day, trying to absorb the knowledge that refused to enter her
brain, Buffy scanned the living room bookshelves for photo albums. She
discarded the ones that her mom had pulled out to show her, knowing
instinctively that she wouldn't find what she was looking for in
them. No, what she wanted to find had to be hidden somewhere...you just
didn't spend four years with a person and not have some momento of that
person's life. The books downstairs were useless, so Buffy headed for her
room, pausing briefly at the top of the stairs to give the closed door there
a baleful look.
She sensed the secrets that were hidden behind that door, a door that was
never opened. Even though her mother claimed the room to be her office,
Joyce never went into the room, and did most of her work on the kitchen
table. She was starting to resent the half-truth's, wondering why there
were so many secrets being kept under one roof.
Heading into her bedroom, she closed the door, having to catch it before it
slammed shut. She paced the room like a caged tiger, her half recalled
memories taunting her with vague recollections, keeping the rest in shadow.
It was starting to drive her crazy. 'Damn it,
why can't I remember!" Buffy thought, slamming her fist down on her bureau,
shaking the items that rested on it's surface and jarring the picture of
Willow and herself, causing it to fall to the floor.
"Great, Summers. Now look what you've done." Buffy said, crossing to look
at the picture frame that was upside down on the floor. As she knealt to
pick it up, she noticed that an edge of the photo seemed to be peeking out
of the frame.
Picking up the frame, she turned it over to look at the front. No...the
picture wasn't crooked. She touched the edge with a finger, pushing it
up...it wasn't the picture, there was something else in here. Something
that could hold the answers that she was looking for. With trembling hands,
she flipped the frame back over again, then slipped the back
off. Out tumbled the picture, and another peice of paper folded in half.
She carefully put the photo on the bed, being cautious not to smudge it,
then picked up the paper that had obviously been meticulously hidden inside.
'What could it possibly be?' She asked herself, nervously, just before she
opened it and let her eyes scan the page.
'Buffy Summers...psychiatric evaluation...patient suffering from grandiose
delusions and mistaken identity...Ira Rosenberg...'
She stared long and hard at the sheet of paper she held in her trembling
hand, trying hard to absorb it's information while trying desperately to
remember the events that went with it. "Ira Rosenberg...Willow's father?"
She was in shock...she had to be in shock, because her
lips, as well as the rest of her body felt numb. "He had me locked up in a
Psychiatric ward? Why? What did I ever do to him?" She couldn't make
herself absorb the information, it was too unbelievable. The peices to her
missing puzzle were beginning to tumble like clogs in a lock, they were
starting to fit. But there were too many questions
that she still didn't have the answers to, and it was high time she found
them out.
*****
"Mom." Joyce's head shot up from her paper work when she heard the odd note
to her daughter's voice. Buffy was standing in the kitchen doorway, her
face emotionless yet pale, looking rather like someone had hit her in the
face with a two-by-four.
"Buffy?" Joyce shot up from her seat, coming closer to her daughter,
worried by the strange appearance. Had she remembered something? "What is
it?"
"Why would Willow's father want to have me institutionalized?" Buffy asked,
waving a piece of paper in her hand.
"What?!" Joyce blinked, taken completely by surprise. This was not what
she had been expecting, at all. "What are you talking about?"
"This." Buffy shoved the paper into her mother's hands, demanding her to
refute the evidence, or at least explain it.
Joyce was stunned. She remembered what Buffy had said about that time she
had disappeared. Now as she looked at the paper in her hand, she learned
the truth about those circumstances. Right there, in black ink, was the
evidence of the man's duplicitous behaviour. A slow burn filled her
stomach, as her eyes widened over the name on the sheet. Somehow, she
couldn't help but feel enraged at the man who had tried to get back
at her daughter so viciously. 'What a complete and total Asshole. He's the
one that needs to be institutionalized. Just wait until I get my hands on
him.' If she hadn't known him for the jerk he was before, he had certainly
won no brownie points with her now.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Buffy asked, her voice choked
"I had no idea." Joyce answered, shaking her head, the shock making it hard
for her to think.
"How could you not know?" Buffy asked, wincing as she heard her voice
crack. She didn't know who to believe anymore, she didn't know what was
true and what was false, it seemed like everyone had something to hide. Her
dreams hadn't helped, nor the occurance at the Bronze, making her question
everything that she thought that she knew about herself.
And this paper sealed the deal. Was she crazy and nobody wanted to tell
her? "What's wrong with me?"
"Buffy...you are not crazy."
"Then why..." Buffy started, taking the paper back and looking at it again,
trying to get the words on the page to make some sense. Ira Rosenberg.
Something about the name kindled an emotion in her. A red, fiery, hot rage.
Then, she noticed something else. Her eyes narrowed over the information,
as her mind seized on a decision.
"I don't know. But Buffy, I promise you, I'll get to the bottom of this."
Joyce promised, not liking the look on her daughter's face.
"Thanks, mom. But I think I've got this one covered." Buffy said, before
she turned and headed out the kitchen door.
"Buffy!" Joyce watched stunned as her daughter walked out, then headed
directly to the phone.
*****
Buffy stood outside the small white house, listening to the sounds of the
argument that could be heard quite loudly through the open livingroom window
from the bush that she hid in right outside. On the way over here, she'd
had every intention on walking straight up to the door, knocking quite
loudly, and then demanding an explanation from the man that lived inside.
She'd had a whole hour to fuel her anger, considering it took her that long
to find the house. She'd forgotten that just because she had the street
address didn't mean she knew where the stupid street was. Finally, she'd
asked somebody for directions.
The old lady she'd run into had looked at her strangely, hemmed and hawed
for about five minutes, and then pointed her in the right direction. So,
needless to say, by the time she arrived at the house, she was seething with
anger.
She was halfway up the walkway, before the loud sounding argument that
reached out from the confines of the small house and seemed to be engulfing
the entire neighborhood, registered on her bubbling brain. "Sheila, get
back here!" She paused at hearing the male
voice screeching loudly, tilting her head and staring at the house like it
had just developed a life of its own.
"No..." She heard the woman's voice distantly, hers not carrying as far as
the male's had, but the sound of the argument was enough to strike her
curiosity so she edged closer, finding a vantage point from behind the
shrubbery under the window. "I will not allow you to cost both of us our
daughter, Ira. Hasn't she been through enough?" 'Sheila' was
saying, her voice practically pleading the man for understanding, even
though it was covered by her anger.
Curioser and curioser. Buffy had time to think, before the man was shouting
again. "Willow should be at home, where she belongs! Not off pining over
somebody who doesn't even know that she exists. If you ask me, she's a lot
better off. That Summers girl has been nothing but trouble from the day she
entered our lives." Buffy's ears picked up at
the mention of her name, her attention focusing through the window at the
man who was waving his arms around with his impassioned speech. She studied
the man, noting his red, blotchy complexion, and the way that his hair was
starting to thin out on top. Going bald, eh Ira? From what she'd seen, the
guy would deserve it if it all fell out. Suddenly, the air of the
confrontation changed and she was unprepared for it. She had been focusing
so hard on the man's appearance that she'd missed what the woman had said.
Whatever it was had caused the man to change tactics. He grew quieter, his
back stiffened, and an air of authority seemed to settle down over his
balding pate.
Ira had dropped his hands to his side, drawing a deep breath as he studied
the woman he'd been married to for the last twenty five years. He sometimes
wondered how things had gone so suddenly, horribly wrong. He had seized on
the Summers kid as an excuse, a scape goat, a person to lay his load of
guilty feelings. But the truth was, he'd shut his eyes
to the horrors of the world, the horrors that his daughter was so open to
every day, because he hadn't had the courage to face them. He'd shut
himself off from reality, choosing to believe that everything was fine, that
his God was still the Ruler of mankind and that his wife and child were
still the same people that they had been five, or even ten years ago. In
the process he had lost touch with his wife and daughter, they had changed
without him even knowing. In the small, dark recesses of his mind, he knew
that he was the one that was really at fault for the status of his present
relationships. But he was unable to face up
to it, so he chose to lay the blame elsewhere. He'd never really liked the
suspicious looking girl anyway...always getting into trouble. Always
putting his daughter's life in danger. This had just been the last straw
for him, he'd rationalized internally. And when the accident had happened,
he'd looked at it as the perfect opportunity to get rid of the foreign
object in his young daughter's life.
"We need to show a unified front, Sheila. Convince her together to come
home. We can take care of her here. We don't even know where she's staying
now that..." He was cut off, going stark white by his wife's next words.
"I know." Sheila answered, quietly, not meeting her husbands gaze as she
revealed the truth she'd been hiding from him for the last few weeks.
"She's safe. She just didn't want you to know where she was. She made me
promise."
"I can't believe...my own daughter..." Ira looked away from her, not
wanting to see the hurt and regret that had replaced the love that had once
lit his wife's eyes. He shook his head, feeling like his whole world was
crumbling around him. "I guess that's it then. My own daughter doesn't
trust me anymore."
"Ira..."
"What about you?" Ira asked, suddenly as he swung to face the woman he
'loved'. "Have you lost faith in me too?"
Sheila shook her head at him sadly. "I don't know what I feel anymore, Ira.
All I do know is that I've been estranged from my daughter for too long.
And she's hurting right now. So, if you can't be there for her...with
me...then I guess I'm going to have to be there for her without you."
Sheila picked up the suitcase that she had set down when the argument had
first began and headed for the door.
"Sheila..." His voice was almost too quiet to hear, and yet she heard the
tone of desperation in his voice so clearly.
"When you're ready to be there for us Ira, you let me know." Sheila
replied, giving him one last look before she walked through the door and out
into the deepening twilight.
*****
Buffy watched from the cover of the bushes as Sheila entered her car and
drove off. Mr. Rosenberg hadn't even followed his wife outside, Buffy could
still see him standing in front of a bookcase, his arms crossed over his
chest as he stared moodily at a family portrait that hung on the wall. She
was still angry with him over what she'd found, but
somehow what she had seen had taken the wind out of her sails and she no
longer found herself with the need for confrontation. Surprizingly enough,
she felt a little sorry for the man looking so alone and so hollow in his
empty house. Although, from what she had overheard, he'd brought a lot of
it down upon himself. But besides that, the overheard
conversation had given her a lot to think about.
*****
Buffy didn't notice how the day dwindled into darkening twilight as she made
her way home. Her thoughts were too absorbed by what she had overheard and
the many questions it had evoked. It was ironic in a way, she'd gone there
looking for answers and had ended up leaving with more questions than what
she had started with. And she hadn't even seen
the guy face to face.
She had learned a few things, though, like the fact that Willow was
estranged from her family and that she herself was somehow to blame. She
couldn't imagine how, though. Willow's father had called her a trouble
maker, and there was no doubt in her mind that the man disliked her with a
passion. That was probably the reason he'd tried to have her
committed. Buffy was pretty sure that was faintly illegal, and she supposed
that she'd kept the paper that was tucked neatly into her back pocket,
before, as proof, just in case she ever needed to use it. She could
probably even figure out why she hadn't told Willow or her mother about the
incident, if Willow was already estranged with her father, knowing this
would have just made things ten times worse between them. How she had
managed to get out of there in the first place was still a mystery to her,
although, the more she thought about it, the more the visions of the tall,
dark stranger from her dream seemed to slip up on
her. She wondered what the deal was with him. Was he real or imaginary?
And if he was real, did that mean that the other guy in her dream was real
too? She shuddered at the thought, not wanting to give too much credance to
the images that she still saw way too clearly.
"Hey Slayer. What's the hurry? Got a hot date?" A voice straight out of
her nightmare, came at her from the shadows, stilling her heart and her feet
on the pavement as she swivelled nervously to look amongst the gathered
shadows for the source of it.
"Who's there?" She called out, trying to sound brave, as she thought she
detected movement from the space between two houses. The figure moved out
into the light made by a streetlamp, it's orange light reflecting strangly
off of blonde hair, enhancing it with an almost ethereal quality.
The man smiled briefly, as if he were amused by both the question and the
look of fear in her eyes. "Well...don't tell me you've forgotten old
Spike." His voice was mocking, the grin still lurking on his pale face.
"What's the matter? Did you fall and hit your head? Give yourself a
splitting headache, did ya?" He asked, with a certain amount of glee. As
if he was in on a very private joke.
Buffy's nostrils flared as her dream came back to haunt her in living color.
"You're not real." She whispered, closing her eyes to try to block the
face from her vision. Meanwhile, her inner voice screamed at her that he was
real, and if she didn't move it soon she was going to be worm food.
"Not real?" He snorted, wondering why she wasn't giving him any of those
annoying come backs she was so famous for. "Bloody Hell, Slayer. You have
gone daft. And here I thought it was just a rumor."
Why was he still talking? He was just a product of her imagination. He was
supposed to be gone by now. She peeked an eye open and saw him standing up
close and personal, as if he were examining her with the precision of a
physician.
He noticed her staring at him in what appeared to be shock or fright, and he
stepped back a pace, the smile tickling at his lips again. "Well...it
appears I have two options. I can kill you...thus adding another notch to
my Slayer belt adding to my well deserved reputation. Or, I can leave you
this way. With two loopy Slayer's around, I won't have to fear for my
undead life...not that I ever did, mind you." The blonde certainly appeared
to be enjoying his decision making process. "But then again, some newly
risen jerk would probably just end up killing you by accident, what with the
state you're in you probably wouldn't fight him very hard, and then he'd
have my much deserved prize." Spike pretended to think the decision over
very carefully, in truth all he wanted was to taste the Slayer's sweet
tasting
blood, but he didn't mind having his fun first. "Nope...that wouldn't do at
all. I guess I'm just going to have to kill you then." He grinned, before
lunging at her, Buffy still too stunned to move.
She tensed up just before he grabbed her, letting out a little squeek of
terror as she felt how strong he was. Then she was being shoved, hard, out
of the way, hitting the ground in a heap as the sound of a fist hitting
flesh registered on her frazzled nerves. "What?" She
croaked, looking up to see the dark stranger from her dream fighting with
the blonde. The blonde's face had shifted, displaying the horrific visage
that had filled her with dread the night before.
"Why do you always have to go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong,
Angel?" Spike asked in disgust, while hitting the would be hero in the
mouth hard enough to knock teeth out if he was human.
"Just the way I am, I guess." Angel answered him coolly, kneeing the other
vampire in the gut, before giving a small slice of his attention to the
fallen Slayer. "Buffy! Get out of here!" The dark savior called to her,
still in the midst of his battle.
"But..." She wasn't sure why she was protesting instead of running for all
she was worth, but she really didn't want to leave him alone for some
strange reason. That was, until he turned shining golden eyes in her
direction.
"Now!" He demanded, before tackling Spike to the ground. Buffy didn't have
to be told again. Picking herself up, she sprinted into the night, hoping
to leave the demonic creatures far behind her.
*****
"Where could she be?" Willow asked fretfully, pacing the span of the
livingroom as she kept an avid watch for any sign of life outside. 'What if
she's hurt...what if she's bleeding...what if she's...' She closed her eyes
tightly, hugging herself, as she tried to
block the last possibility from her consciousness.
Joyce laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.
"Honey, I'm sure she's fine."
"Yeah, but...what if she isn't...what if she's...what if I never get a
chance to tell her?" Willow looked at Joyce through worry laden eyes. They
had searched for Buffy for most of the late afternoon and into the evening,
before finally deciding to return home just in case Buffy came back. They'd
discussed the situation that had sent Buffy out there in the first place.
Willow couldn't believe her own father could be that mean...that cruel. She
wondered why Buffy had hidden this from her. But then again, she probably
knew why. Her wife never wanted her to be hurt, and she knew that this would
definitely hurt.
Willow sighed, turning her back on the night outside the window. "I'm so
sick of this. I'm so sick of having to pretend, of not being able to tell
her the truth. I just want to tell her..."
"Tell me what, Will?" Buffy asked softly, standing in the doorway.
"Buffy?" Willow gasped, a hand going over her mouth as she saw her wife and
lover standing there, looking wild and disheveled, and not a little bit like
something the cat dragged in.
"Tell me what." Buffy said again, this time a little more demanding as she
looked around at the three people in the room...the people that she had
thought she could trust above all others, and now to come back after some
very strange and terrifying encounters to find them all talking about
her...well, she'd had just about enough.
"Buffy." Giles cautioned, trying to disarm the situation like Buffy was a
nuclear bomb about to go off.
She shook her head, not even bothering to look at him, her attention focused
on the redhead that trembled in front of her. "I have just been through one
of the strangest days of my life..." She paused, thinking about that
statement, then shook her head, adding the rest that she'd come to loathe
saying. "...that I can remember. I find out I was locked
away in a mental institution...by Willow's father, no less...then I get
attacked on my way home by some strange...blonde...demonic dude who keeps
calling me a slayer, or the slayer...or something like that...and now I
finally get home to where I think I'm safe...and I find out that what I've
been suspecting really is true. You guys are keeping things from me...and
now I want to know what they are."
She gave them a second to respond, looking around at their dazed, shocked
faces. "Well?" She demanded, her voice cracking from the stress.
"Buffy...I..." Willow stared at her, feeling her breath fill up her lungs
as she tried to figure out what to say. She'd wanted so very much to be
able to tell her, and now here was her chance and she couldn't.
Buffy saw that Willow was struggling, and a part of her even felt sorry for
her, but the bigger part of her just wanted to know what the heck was going
on. "No...that's okay, Will. I'll just find out for myself...starting with
that 'office' that nobody ever goes into."
She'd decided on her plan of action before she'd even consciously thought
about it. Before her family could even react she had turned and headed for
the stairs, determination guiding her every move.
Willow's mouth had dropped open in shock as she figured out just exactly
what Buffy was planning to do. "No...Buffy wait..." Willow cried out, as
she ran after her, Giles and Joyce joining her a second later, both crying
out for Buffy to stop.
As they reached the stairs, they heard wood splintering above them, and knew
Buffy was breaking the door down. "Buffy..." Willow managed to say, just
before the sound of a door slamming open registered on her ears. They all
stopped to stare at each other, not bothering to race now...all knowing what
they would find when they reached the top of the
stairs.
*****
Buffy, for her part, had been on autopilot as she headed up the stairs, not
knowing what she would find, but knowing it was gonna be big. Her greatest
expectations couldn't have prepared her for what she actually did find. It
had felt like second nature as she had kicked the door in, feeling her body
moving gracefully into the kick, using all her strength
to lever it open. Hearing the door slam against the wall had been like
hearing the door that blocked her memories grinding open. But when she saw
what the room actually contained, her stomach dropped away, an almost
weightless quality rushing to her head, and she felt her knees buckle as she
hit the floor.
*****
As the wind picked up outside, the lone wolf that circled around the open
door of the Summers home, smiled wickedly. It was gonna be one Hell of a
night.
To be continued...I promise.:-)
The archangel Shyfox, taunter of the list and creater of most consecutive
cliffhangers, mistress of the warm-fuzzy and evil mind corrupter.
_________________________________________________________________
Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com
This is an archive of the eGroups/YahooGroups group "BuffyWantsWillow".
"Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Angel" are trademarks and (c) 20th Century Fox Television and its related entities. This website, its operators and any content on this site relating to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Angel" are not authorized by Fox.
No money is being made with this website.