Normal Is Just a Word

Buffy ran her hand over the bare mattress, gazing round the room that had been her home (and prison) for so long. The walls were empty of the posters her parents had brought, hoping the familiar scenes might help bring their daughter back. The ones she'd outgrown were now out with the recycling, the newer ones rolled up and held with a rubber band. She walked over to the window and gazed out at the bright sunshine and crowded parking lot. In the distance she could see the skyscrapers of downtown Los Angeles.

"Are you ready, honey?"

She spun around to see her parents smiling at her from the doorway. She smiled back and nodded.

"I'm all packed up. I just have to stop in to see Dr. Swinson before we leave. She wants to talk to me one more time."

Hank entered the room and hugged his daughter tightly.

"I'll just take your stuff out to the car, sweetheart. Your mom can stay with you and bring you out when you're ready."

" 'k. Let's go, Mom."

Buffy led the way, her new confidence lending a firmness to her stride that her mother was hard-put to keep up with. She walked into Dr. Swinson's office with a cheery, "Hi, Mrs. Johnson," to the receptionist. Dr. Swinson emerged from her office as soon as she heard Buffy's voice, holding out her hand to Joyce.

"Mrs. Summers! How good to see you. I just need to chat with Buffy for a few minutes and then she's all yours to take home."

Joyce nodded and sat down in the outer office, watching with a calm smile as Buffy waved and followed the doctor into her warmly decorated office.

Dr. Swinson sat back in her chair and smiled proudly. She indulged in no false modesty as she studied the girl she'd helped come out of the most detailed and long-running fantasy she'd ever seen.

"Oh, Buffy," she said, seemingly at a temporary loss for words. "I'm so very, very proud of you. You've come such a long way in these past several months, and I know how hard you've worked to get here." Her expression darkened, "Although, I have to say that I never expected you to throw yourself off an imaginary tower to make it happen...." She glanced up and her expression cleared. "But, as I told you at the time, it was really quite brilliant on your part. You destroyed the Buffy who was living in that world, and your need to be there died with her. An excellent strategy that beautifully closes the door on any need or chance to return."

She smiled at Buffy, who smiled back tentatively, then looked briefly uncomfortable before smiling again. "Yeah, and, hey bonus, I saved the world when I did it."

Dr. Swinson narrowed her eyes. "The imaginary Buffy, the one who is a 'slayer', she saved that world. Please don't tell me that just as I think you've completely recovered, you think it still exists?"

Buffy paled. "Oh, oh no, Dr. Swinson. I just meant that it was a good way for me – her – to go out. Saving the world. Which isn't real, so it really doesn't matter if it gets saved or not, does it?" Buffy gave the doctor a brilliant smile, hoping she hadn't just blown her chances of leaving the hospital and getting back to a normal life. Whatever that was in this world – so different from the one she thought she'd been living in for the past five years.

The doctor relaxed and leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers.

"You wouldn't be trying to play me, now, would you, Slayer?" she said with a teasing smile, her confidence in Buffy's recovery seemingly restored.

"What? No! No, I wouldn't do anything like that. What would be the point? Just to get out of here? That's what I'm supposed to want, isn't it? To go back to a normal life with my parents and whatever friends might remember me?"

"No, I suppose not. So, you really have no desire to go back to that strange world? To Sunnydale?"

"Dr. Swinson," Buffy was suddenly very serious, fearful that her hard work over the past several months might be going right down the tubes. "You know that world as well as I do. Have you forgotten what it was like? In that world, my parents got divorced, I never see my dad, my mother is dead, my only two boyfriends both left me, the closest thing I have to a romantic life is a neutered vampire crushing on me. I have no money, a mortgage, and I have to save the world every frickin' spring. Why on earth would I want to go back to that? It was like having a nightmare that lasted for years."

Buffy stood up and began to walk around, waving her arms. "I died twice - did I mention that? That I died when I was only sixteen?"

Dr. Swinson nodded her head. "I believe we've talked about that before; about how you had a brief moment of lucidity that didn't last. But that was before I was on staff here," she said, seeming to encourage Buffy to go on.

"Well, it was only for a minute, and I totally kicked his butt when I got back up, but the point is - I died! And I didn't even get to wake up here, like this time." The doctor started to interrupt and point out again that Buffy had been briefly awake and aware, but shut her mouth as the girl continued. "And then, Spike..." Buffy faltered for a minute, then took a deep breath and went on, "he came to town and he kidnapped Angel and then I...well, never mind that...but Angel lost his soul and he turned into Angelus and killed Giles' girlfriend and I had to kill him to – wait for it – save the world again. And then, Angel comes back, but he decides to leave me – for my own good. And I have to – oh yeah, save the frickin' world again. Or Sunnydale, anyway. Not clear on that one. Maybe the mayor only wanted to take over Sunnydale...

"Where was I? Oh yeah, and then I met Riley, but he wasn't a college boy, he was a commando and his boss was an evil bitch that tried to kill me. Then her pet monster got lose and tried to kill everybody, and Spike got chipped – okay, that wasn't such a bad thing—" Buffy stopped again and sank down into the chair. "And, you know, it was pretty much all downhill from there." She stared Dr. Swinson in the eye. "And you think I want to go back there? Do you think I'm crazy?"

Dr. Swinson smiled and stood up, walking around her desk to rest her hand on Buffy's head. "Not any more, you aren't," she said with a laugh. "Welcome back, Buffy."

She walked Buffy to the door, hugging her tightly before letting her join Joyce in the outer office. She shook hands with Joyce and graciously accepted the thanks Buffy's mother insisted on repeating and repeating. After reminding Buffy that she still wanted to see her every week, just to "keep in touch and see how things are going", she watched them walk down the corridor and out of Shady Pines Rehabilitation and Rest Facility. As she returned to her office, she congratulated herself on the successful completion of what had once seemed a very daunting case.

While it was fresh in her mind, she quickly spoke into her recorder, adding to the file on the case. As proud as she was of having been a part of bringing this young woman back from her delusions and into the real world, she was also not blind to the opportunity it presented. She was sure that once she had time to write it up, she would make the literature with her story of how a perfectly healthy and normal fifteen year-old-girl suddenly slipped into an imaginary world that was so detailed and real to her that she could respond to any question about it with an immediate and comprehensive answer.

After adding the new-to-her information about Buffy's first "death" and her subsequent activities, she saved the file and closed her laptop, giving it a satisfied pat.

"You're going to make me famous, Buffy Summers."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy and Joyce quickly made their way out to the parking lot and climbed into the big SUV in which Hank was waiting for them.

"New car?"

Joyce shrugged. "I think I told you about the new cars, Buffy. This one is for me – and you, as soon as you get your license. Your dad has his own new car. It just doesn't hold more than two people, so—"

"Dad got a sports car?" For some reason, the idea that her father was driving around in sporty new two-seater made Buffy uncomfortable. Perhaps it was too similar to the way he'd behaved leading up to the divorce in her imaginary world. Scolding herself for bringing that world into the real one, she put a bright smile on and asked, "So, do I get to drive it when I get my license?"

Hank met her eyes in the rearview mirror and laughed. "I'll let you drive it, sweetheart. As soon as I think you're experienced enough. In the meantime, you just concentrate on getting your license, huh?"

" 'k," she said, looking around eagerly. When she'd begun to regain her grip on reality, she had been allowed to leave the facility for closely supervised visits to a small nearby mall, but this was the first time she'd actually been out of the watchful care of one of the attendants. For just a brief moment, she was seized by fear of venturing out into the "real world" by herself, wondering what might happen to her if she had a relapse while no one was around who knew about her past hospitalizations. Then her attention was pulled to a theater marquee showing the latest romantic comedy and excitement and anticipation replaced the fear.

"Oh, I saw the trailer for that movie on television last week. It looked really good."

Her father grumbled about 'chick flicks' while Joyce laughed and promised Buffy that they would go by themselves to see it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coming home was both comforting and disturbing. Comforting because it was home. It smelled like home, it looked like home and yet... Buffy stared around at unfamiliar furniture and curtains.

"Um...shouldn't there be a couch there?" She pointed to the area under the windows where a long table with shelves held a couple of houseplants and some magazines.

"We've never had a couch there, Buffy," Joyce said gently, her smile a little strained.

"Huh! I guess my memory isn't as good as it ought to be. You're right, of course. I remember now. The couch is there in--" She stopped herself when she saw her mother's face fall. "It's okay, Mom," Buffy hastened to assured her. "Dr. Swinson said that my memories of that other place will take a while to fade away completely. She said it's kinda like when you're dreaming and then you wake up. At first, you think you're still in the dream, and then you know you aren't but you still remember it - then, a few hours later, you can barely remember what it was about. It's just going to take me more than a few hours cause I was...asleep...for such a long time."

Buffy looked around the house with its familiar rooms and nodded. "Even in my fantasy I remembered this house. I just filled it with different furniture and put it in a different town. But it was this house. I never forgot it was home." She looked at her parents and smiled tentatively. "That's got to be good, right? That it always felt like home to me?"

"Yes," her father said tightly as he set her suitcase down at the bottom of the stairs. "It's good to know that you hung on to the house, even when you pushed your parents out of your life."

"Hank!" Joyce snapped as Buffy's face crumpled.

He heaved a sigh and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean that. It's just that...this has been hard on us, you know? All those years we've missed while you were growing up without us. It's hard not to think that you didn't want us around..."

When Joyce had glared him into silence, he shrugged and turned around, grabbed a different set of keys off the table and opened the door. I'm just going to go for a drive," he said, not meeting Buffy's eyes. "I'll be back by dinnertime."

Joyce and Buffy stood in silence and watched as he pulled the door shut. The muffled roar of what Buffy recognized as his version of Giles' midlife crisis car faded as it left the driveway. They looked at each other; then Buffy shrugged.

"It's all right, Mom. It's going to be strange for all of us for a while. I mean, I know you guys love me and that you've visited me faithfully – even when I didn't know who you were—" She broke off, remembering all the minions she'd vanquished, only to be told when she was more lucid that she'd been screaming at her parents that she would never let Glory have her sister.

"Oh, God," she whispered, collapsing onto the couch. "What I've put you through. No wonder Dad wants to get away from me!"

"No, Buffy! No. Please don't think that. He's just...he'll be fine. He loves you just as much as I do and he's happy that we have you back home. We just have to get used to each other again. All of us. We lost a teenager and we've recovered a young woman. We've gone from boy bands and "No, you're too young to date" to having someone who should be in college and who has—" She broke off, and Buffy knew she was remembering that in her imaginary world, Buffy had been sexually active since she was seventeen.

Wishing the staff hadn't been so quick to share all the details of her delusion with her parents, Buffy blushed from her hairline to her chest. "Yeah, well, I guess we can just chalk all that up to hormones, huh? Erotic dreams and all that." She looked at her mother with wide eyes. "Oh my god! I'm probably the only twenty-year old virgin in LA! I should go on Oprah!"

Joyce laughed and hugged her tightly. "I'm sure you're not the only one left, Buffy." She pulled back and looked into Buffy's eyes. "I hope you aren't going to jump into anything...uncomfortable...just because you think you should."

"Don't worry, Mom," Buffy said with a wry smile. "If I learned nothing else from my imagination, it's that Buffy and sex isn't very mixy. They turn evil, or turn out to be already evil – in a sleazy kind of way, or they get all insecure and—yeah, I'm not feeling any sudden urge to find myself a boyfriend. Trust me."

"I didn't mean that you shouldn't date, honey. I want you to enjoy life and get back into the swing of things – it's just that..."

Buffy nodded and grabbed her suitcase. She had a moment of confusion and almost vertigo as she tried to swing it up the stairs; then flushed as she realized she'd expected to be able to handle it just as she would have when she thought she was a slayer. Hoping her mother hadn't noticed the lapse, she dragged it up the stairs, bumping the wheels from step to step, and down the hall to her room.

She dropped the handle and stared around the room that was so familiar- and yet so different. The bed was in the same place, the walls were the same color, the closet was standing open and almost empty, waiting for her to unpack what few new clothes she had. With a loud sign, she squared her shoulders and heaved the suitcase up on the bed.

"Time to get to work, Buffy. This is the real world - if you don't take care of your stuff, nobody else is going to do it for you."

Even as she said that, she knew that her mother probably would take care of anything Buffy needed help with. Just one more reason to be grateful that this was her real life, and not the pain-filled, unending horror that she had inexplicably lived in for the past five years. Without meaning to, she let herself remember some of the worst things that had occurred in that strange world in which she'd been so sure she belonged.

While she shoved the clothes that she'd worn as a fifteen-year-old to the side, wrinkling her nose at the childish styles, she remembered how she'd felt when Angelus killed Jenny Calendar. The guilt that she'd had him down and hadn't been able to bring herself to stake him made her shudder all over again. As Dr. Swinson had advised her to whenever she felt herself slipping into the memories of that life and allowing them to affect her mood, Buffy took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. She deliberately stared at a poster that she was sure had been dream-inducing when she was fourteen, and that now left her wondering what she'd been thinking.

The laughter inspired by remembering her crush on the members of that boy band brought her back to reality and she continued to put her few "grown-up" clothes into the closet with the mini-skirts of a much younger and more carefree girl.

Chapter Two

Buffy did her best to slide back into a normal life. Except for the occasional nightmare in which her sleep was haunted by creatures with claws and fangs, she felt she was handling it surprisingly well. In one of their morning chats over coffee, Joyce tentatively mentioned that she and Hank had expected Buffy to have more trouble adjusting to the outside world than it seemed she was.

Buffy shrugged.

"I don't know, Mom. I guess I should feel more confused – and sometimes I do. Honestly. I mean, I'm having to relearn my way around the neighborhood and the city's still a pretty big mystery." She peered at her mother and said with a smile. "I do know my way to the mall, though. You really don't need to keep taking time off work to take me shopping."

Joyce shifted uneasily. "I'm sure that's true, honey. But you know, I'm just not comfortable letting a girl your age—"

"I'm almost twenty-one, Mom," Buffy reminded her flatly.

"Yes, but..."

Buffy's face tightened into the expression her parents were beginning to recognize as her "You may think I'm fifteen, but I'm not; and I've been taking care of myself for quite a while " look. Joyce quickly backed down, just nodding and reminding herself that Dr. Swinson had given Buffy an explanation for her seemingly easy adjustment to the world and her surprising confidence in her ability to deal with it.

"I know you think it's odd, Buffy," she'd said in response to a question during one of Buffy's weekly visits. "But you have to remember, in your imagination, you've has been living in the world all this time. As far as you're concerned, only the past couple of months when you began to emerge from your delusion have been spent here at Shady Pines."

Dr. Swinson had explained away Buffy's ability to be fairly current on slang, pop culture references and styles of dress by reminding her that she had spent large amounts of time just sitting in the dayroom, carefully restrained and sedated.

"Even though you were often lost in your own world, you were being exposed to a steady diet of television, and your subconscious was probably absorbing information from the shows that were on—regardless of whether you were aware of it or not."

.

Shortly after Buffy's return, Joyce had taken her to the nearest mall to purchase some new clothes. Even if Buffy had wanted to wear the same things that had appealed to her as a teenager, they wouldn't have fit her marginally taller, more slender body.

Over cookies and iced tea in the food court, they talked a bit about Buffy's concerns about fitting in.

"You don't think it looks too 'I just got out of a mental hospital'?"

"No, honey. I think it looks fine. But if you want to, we can make an appointment with my hair dresser and you can get it cut some other way."

Buffy studied her reflection in the glass tabletop.

"I guess I'll leave it long for a while. It's what I'm used to. "

Joyce nodded. "It's probably not a good idea to make too many changes right away. Give yourself a chance to figure out who Buffy is now that she's all grown up."

It was on one of those shopping trips that Buffy began the process of weaning herself away from the constant supervision and attention. Beginning with not being completely financially dependent upon her parents. Although Joyce always insisted she could buy whatever she wanted, Buffy was only too aware of the money her parents had spent over the past several years just to keep her confined and safe from her own imagination.

Without consulting either parent, Buffy decided her first step should be to complete her education, and she called her old high school to get information about earning a GED. Information jotted down and in hand, she began her quest for a high school diploma.

She took a bus to the testing center, talked briefly with one of the counselors there, and took a sample test. Mildly surprised at how easy it was, she asked if she could take the real test right then. The pleasant woman laughed and suggested she come back in a few days, prepared to spend all day taking the five tests involved. She sent Buffy home with a study book and the time of the next scheduled test.

Three days later, Buffy walked out feeling confident and wondering if she would be able to keep her secret until the diploma came. She was home in time to greet Joyce at the driveway and smile mysteriously at her mother's questions as to where she'd been. Joyce responded to Buffy's happy hug with enthusiasm, but some trepidation.

"I'm glad you're so happy, honey, but can't you share why?"

"I will, Mom. As soon as I have something to share."

Two weeks later, they were all seated at the table when Buffy sprang her news on them.

"Oh my god, Buffy!" Joyce was almost speechless as she looked over the diploma, staring at her daughter with new respect. Hank, too, as he listened to Buffy's explanation about making the arrangements and taking the bus to the testing center and back, had to admit that she had shown herself capable of more than he was willing to credit.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said. "It's just that, to me, you're still Daddy's little girl, you know? And I worry."

"I know that, Dad – Mom. And I understand it. Really I do. But I have to start living my life. And I want to live it as an adult – not as fifteen-year-old Buffy whose mom and dad go everywhere with her."

"All right, honey. You've made your point. We'll try not to be so smothering or so protective. If you promise not to go running off to see the world or something."

"I wasn't actually thinking about going much farther than the mall and the community college. Since I've got that diploma, I may as well see how well I can handle college-level classes."

Buffy made a mental note to ask Dr. Swinson how her subconscious could have learned enough from a television set to pass a test designed for students with much more than a freshman year of high school, when in reality she'd not set foot in one for years. But for the time being, she pushed that disturbing thought aside in favor of taking advantage of the situation and using it to move closer to adulthood.

Her next step was to find a job. Preferably one that would allow her to attend college classes if and when she got in. Accepting Joyce's offer of a ride to the nearest mall, she began to wander up and down the corridors, hoping for inspiration to strike. She was contemplating looking into a waitressing job in one of the restaurants attached to the mall, when she spotted the "help wanted" sign in the window of a small bookstore. On a whim, Buffy entered the store and inquired about the job.

The friendly store owner introduced herself as Marcia and listened carefully to Buffy's stammering explanation for why she wanted to work there.

"So, you've been abroad for the past few years?" Marcia's innocent question had Buffy scrambling to come up with something better than "not around here".

"Not so much abroad, as just... not able to do a lot of things other girls do. That's why this will be my first real job."

"Were you ill?"

"Yes. Yes, I was. But I'm fine now, and ready to catch up on the things I missed. Like college and working."

After more discussion, during which she glossed over her hospitalization as best she could without actually lying, Buffy found herself employed, and with hours that could be flexible enough to allow her to attend classes at the community college.

As she met her mother outside, Buffy couldn't keep the happy smile off her face and Joyce quickly responded to it.

"You look pleased," she said, pulling away from the curb.

"You'd be pleased too if you had just gotten your first job," Buffy said, too excited not to blurt out her news.

"Oh Buffy! That's wonderful. Wait until your dad hears about this."

Hank was equally pleased to hear that Buffy was now, not only a high school graduate, but an employed high school graduate.

"That's wonderful, sweetheart. You don't know how good this makes me feel. It makes it all worth it. Every bit of it."

Buffy's happy smile faded a bit. "Every bit of what?"

"Nothing," Joyce said, sending her husband a glare. "It's nothing, honey. We're just really, really happy to have you home again. And yourself."

"Your mom's right, Buffy. I didn't mean anything. I was just remembering how l much I missed having our family dinners at our own table rather than the Shady Pines cafeteria; and how happy I am that we're all here again."

"Speaking of dinner," Joyce said, "I'd better get started on it. Do you want to help me, honey?"

"Oh, sure. I'd love to. Just let me put my stuff away and I'll be happy to show you how awesome I am in a kitchen." Buffy smiled and ran up the stairs with her bags, completely missing the looks that went across her parents' faces.

"How the hell does she know if she's awesome in a kitchen?" Hank growled. "Do you think she—"

Joyce shook her head, even as she admitted, "Dr. Swinson said this might happen. All her memories from the past five years are from that imaginary world she thought she was living in. As long as she realizes that the memories are only memories of an imaginary place and imaginary events, we're supposed to try to ignore it when she talks about them."

Hank rolled his eyes and went into the living room, muttering to himself about over-paid psychiatrists who were more interested in hearing about Buffy's delusion than they were in curing her of it.

~~~~~~~~

Three weeks later, Buffy was enrolled in the community college's summer semester – due to begin in another week – and was already enjoying her job in the bookstore.

"Sure beats working at McDonalds or someplace like that," she assured herself as she sneezed on the dust she'd just brushed off a top shelf. She teetered briefly on the stepladder, grabbing the shelf to keep herself steady, then began reaching for the last bit of dust. Which was one reach too many, as she lost her balance and began to slip towards the floor.

Her about to be embarrassing and possibly painful descent was halted when a strong hand gripped one arm while a muscular arm went around her waist, supporting her until she had recovered her balance. When she was safely standing upright, the hands released her and their owner stepped back.

"Lucky for you I was passing by."

Buffy looked up into warm (familiar?) brown eyes that belonged to a tall, very handsome man. Even with her standing on the second rung of the stepladder, he was still an inch or so taller than she was, but the ladder put their faces close together, giving her an opportunity to study him in great detail. She blushed at the admiration in his eyes and moved back as far as she could without falling off the ladder again.

"Yes, yes it was," she managed to say. "Lucky, I mean. Thank you for saving me from possible pain and humiliation."

"Anytime, Miss...?"

"Summers. Buffy Summers."

"It was my pleasure, Buffy." He smiled again.

"Is Will here?" he asked, glancing down the long row of shelves towards the back of the store.

"Uh, no. No, he isn't. I actually haven't met him, yet. Not in person. We don't usually work the same shifts. I'm in school and— And you really don't care about why we don't work the same shift, do you?"

"I can't imagine not caring about everything Buffy," the man said with another smile. "In fact, if you'll tell me when you get your next break, I'll come back and we can sit down in Starbucks while you tell me all about yourself."

"I...well..." Buffy stumbled, her actual lack of experience with men interfering with the imaginary experiences that dream Buffy thought she'd had. She had no idea how to respond to his polite, but very smooth come on.

"Come on," he coaxed, obviously sensing her reluctance, "If you need a reference, you can always ask Will the next time you talk to him. He's known me for years."

Buffy nodded. "No, it's fine. I'm sorry. My social skills kind of suck sometimes. I get off around 7:00 for a half-hour break."

"Great! I'll pick you up at seven, then. See you later, Buffy."

With a wave he turned and exited the store, leaving Buffy staring after him in confusion. She wanted to run after him and ask him his name, but the phone rang and she got off the ladder to pick it up instead.

"Books and Browsers. May I help you?"

"Hey, Buffy, it's Will. How's it going?"

"Will! Hi! I need... I mean do you know a... there was this guy, and he said he knows you, and...."

There was a laugh and a sigh on the other end of the line. "So, you're trying to say that Sean stopped by tonight?"

"Is that his name? He didn't tell me his name, he just..."

"I'm pretty sure I know what he just..." Will said, laughing again. "That's his MO when he meets a pretty girl. Don't let him sweep you off your feet, luv. He's a charmer, but—"

"So, I shouldn't have told him I'd go out for coffee?" Buffy asked in a small voice.

She could hear the smile in Will's familiar voice as he said warmly, "Of course you should, Buffy. It's just coffee. Enjoy yourself; just don't believe everything he tells you."

Buffy had given up trying to convince herself that his slight accent didn't remind her of Spike and Giles, and perhaps that was why they'd formed such a warm, if tentative, friendship over the phone. She could now even hear him call her "luv" and "pet" without flinching and picturing a vampire with shockingly white hair.

After some hesitation, she went with her gut feeling that she could trust him, and said, "I don't know much about guys – I've never – I mean I don't date much and I don't think I know what to do."

Frustration with her inability to be honest about where she'd been colored her voice and she could hear Will's concern as he said, "Buffy? If you're not comfortable going out with him, don't do it. Just tell him to come by sometime when we're both there and I can introduce you properly and come along as a chaperone."

"No," she said, standing up straighter and speaking firmly. "I'll be fine. I'm just being silly. It's not like I'm some teeny bopper who's never been on a date." She crossed her fingers behind her back and hoped she wouldn't have to explain that said dates had occurred when she was in her early teens.

"Of course not! Beautiful girl like you – probably had a lot of dates, yeah?"

Buffy giggled. "You don't know what I look like," she said. "But thanks, anyway."

"You're welcome, luv. So, aside from a coffee date with Sean McCarthy, what have you accomplished this evening?"

The conversation quickly went into an exchange of information about the day's happenings and the expectations for the evening. Promising to check back before closing time to see how her date had gone, Will told her "good-bye" and she went back to her dusting chores.

Buffy's nerves were calmed considerably by seeing how comfortable her boss was with Sean when he returned promptly at seven; and she went off happily with Marcia's "take your time; enjoy your dinner" ringing in her ears.

Instead of Starbucks, Sean insisted on taking her to one of the fast food restaurants in the mall, saying that if it was her dinner break, he was going to be "damn sure" she got a meal. Finding a relatively quiet table, they ate their meals and exchanged small talk about themselves. Fortunately for Buffy, Sean seemed quite happy to monopolize the conversation, telling her all about his job working for a law firm downtown, about his apartment near the beach and about how he and Will had known each other since high school.

"So, you guys are like best friends?"

"I guess so. We've gone in different directions career-wise, but we still enjoy each other's company enough to hang out as much as we can."

"He sounds very nice over the phone," Buffy said. "Is he really like that in person?"

Sean pretended to think, then laughed. "Yeah. He's pretty much what he seems to be. He's a great guy. As long as you don't piss him off, anyway. He's a hell of a fighter if he loses his temper. Studied all sorts of martial arts and stuff like that."

Buffy's mind inexplicable strayed to the wide assortment of martial arts moves she seemed to have stored in her memory and she temporarily lost the gist of the conversation.

"Buffy? Buffy? Where'd you go?" Sean was smiling at her with a bemused look on his face.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I just--" She blushed and cringed mentally, but he was laughing and seemed unbothered by her zone-out.

"Hey, no biggie. I do that myself sometimes – I get distracted by something and the next thing you know, it's Tuesday already."

"Heh. Well, I'm sorry, anyway. It was rude of me."

"So, what was it?" he asked. "That took you away from me?"

"Oh, it was...it was the martial arts stuff, I think. I used to...that is, I think I...You know what? It doesn't matter. Tell me more about your job. It sounds fascinating."

It was soon time for Buffy to return to the store, and Sean walked her back, chatting the whole time about his job, his weekend activities and his latest hobby – making it easy for her to resist volunteering more information about herself. They got back to the store to find that Marcia had already left and in her place was a young man wearing rimless glasses and too-long curly light brown hair.

Before he could introduce himself, Sean bellowed, "Will! What are you doing here? I thought you weren't working tonight."

"Had to make sure you were doing right by Buffy, didn't I?" Will said with a smile in her direction. He extended his hand and Buffy automatically reached out and shook it as he continued, "Did he treat you right? Or do I have to take him out behind the mall and put the fear of God into him?" He squeezed her hand lightly before releasing it to favor Sean with a mock glare.

Buffy laughed nervously at the idea of the slender, bookish man in front of her taking the much larger Sean anywhere, but stopped when she remembered what he'd said about Will and his temper. She quickly nodded, saying, "Yes, he fed me and entertained me and got me back to work on time. So it's all good." She favored Will with a dazzling smile, pleased when he smiled back at her and stopped pretending to glare at Sean.

"Glad to hear it." He turned toward Sean and answered the other man's earlier question as if there had been no interruption. "Marcia had to leave for some kind of baby emergency, and she called me to come in for her."

"What's wrong?" Buffy's anxious question brought his head swiveling back to her.

"Nothing serious. Just something the babysitter couldn't handle and Dad wasn't home yet. We're not to worry – those were her direct orders."

Buffy nodded and moved away from the two men to wait on one of the browsing customers who was staring at a shelf and frowning. While she helped the woman find the latest book on becoming multi-orgasmic – "for my best friend," she hastened to assure Buffy – Sean and Will chatted quietly at the front of the store.

It was a busier night than normal for that time of the year, and after having one too many conversations interrupted by either Buffy or Will – or both – having to help a customer, Sean told them "goodnight" and left, promising Buffy he would come back soon and treat her to a real dinner.

Chapter Three

It was only a few minutes before closing time when the steady procession of customers ended and Buffy and Will actually had time to say more than a few work-related words to each other. While he leaned against the counter, Buffy sank into a chair and took her sandals off, rubbing her aching feet vigorously.

"Note to self - do not wear heels to work anymore."

Will laughed as he lounged against the glass case, seeming perfectly fine with having worked all day and then having to come back for another couple of hours.

"Ah, but they look so lovely on you. You have perfect little feet, Buffy. You should show them off all the time."

Buffy blushed and muttered something about needing a masseuse to follow her around if she did that; looking down and completely missing the way Will's eyes roamed from her feet up her bare leg as far as he could see. By the time she looked back up, he was smiling sympathetically.

"Pay me no mind, luv. If you look around the mall, you'll find that all the experienced saleswomen here have at least two pair of shoes and they change them all the time. Even in Nordstrom, they don't spend the whole day in heels. I'm surprised Marcia didn't mention it to you."

"I guess this is the first time it's been so busy. Usually I have time to sit down or stand behind the counter with my shoes off," Buffy said. "I'll have to remember that about the other shoes."

He pulled open one of the drawers behind the counter and showed her the comfy-looking flats that Marcia had stored there. "There's room for more in here. Be sure you bring yourself something to change into every night."

"Good advice. Thanks."

"I'm here to help," he said. "Now let's get the money counted and the store locked up for the night."

Buffy watched closely as he turned out lights, checked locks and then ushered her into the mall so he could bring down the metal mesh that covered the store's entrance while it was closed. He insisted on walking Buffy outside and waiting with her until her father drove up to take her home.

"I'm really fine here, you know," Buffy said, smiling at his gentlemanly behavior, but unable to shake the confidence in her own ability to take care of herself that she'd lived with for so long in her delusional world.

"I'm sure you are, but my mother would never forgive me if I walked off and left you out here by yourself."

"Your mother?"

"Lovely woman, but a bit unreasonable when it comes to my manners."

Buffy giggled at his disgruntled expression, teasing, "So, you wouldn't be here if you weren't afraid of your mother, huh?"

"Maybe not," he admitted. "Guess I should thank her, yeah?" He nudged her arm and winked.

Buffy blushed at his blatant flirting, but was saved from having to answer him by the arrival of her father in what she couldn't stop thinking of as his mid-life crisis car. Giving Will a, "Thanks for waiting with me, goodnight," she quickly opened the car door and got in. She waved as they pulled away.

"Made a new friend?" her father said with a sideways look.

"Wha- huh? Oh, Will? No. I mean, yes, I guess he's a new friend. He works at the same store, but he's usually not there when I am. Marcia had to leave early tonight and she asked him to come in to help out."

"Did she ask him to walk you to your car, too?"

Buffy smiled at her father's gentle teasing. "No. He said his mother would never forgive him if he left me standing out there all alone, so he insisted on waiting until you showed up."

"Your mother is going to be so disappointed," he laughed.

"Well, I did go out to dinner with his friend, Sean," Buffy said. "That should make her happier."

Joyce was, in fact, quite pleased to hear that Buffy had made friends with not one, but two young men. Attempts to pick up where she'd left off with her old friends from middle school and her freshman year of high school hadn't gone anywhere. Too many of them remembered that Buffy had been withdrawn from school due to some behavior issues that caused her to be hospitalized; and even those who didn't remember what she'd done had moved on with their lives and barely remembered her.

After one too many disappointing phone calls to girls she'd once been sure she'd be friends with for the rest of her life, Buffy refused to call anyone else, telling her mother that she would have to make "new, grown-up friends" among the people she would meet at the community college or the mall.

~~~~~~~~

To her surprise, when she arrived at work the next evening, Will was still there and Buffy looked at Marcia in surprise.

"Am I fired?"

Marcia laughed and shook her head. "No, actually, I think you've learned the ropes so well that I don't think I need to be here so much. Will and I talked this morning, and he has agreed to come in a little later in the day so that he can stay here in the evenings and I can go home to my family. You don't mind, do you, Buffy?"

Buffy glanced at Will's warm smile and shook her head.

"No. I don't mind. I'm glad we can let you spend some more time at home."

"I can keep in touch from there - if anything comes up that you can't handle, I'm just a phone call away, or an e-mail," she said as she was gathering up her purse and jacket. "Okay, I'm off. Let me know if you have any problems, I can be back in ten or fifteen minutes."

"What? You don't trust us not to ruin your life's work while you're gone?" Will's voice was gently teasing and Marcia responded by wagging her finger in his face.

"If you can live with knowing you'd be taking food out of the mouths of my children...."

"Go on," he said with a snort of laughter. "We'll be fine."

With a final wave, Marcia left and Buffy quickly went behind the counter to put a small bag in the drawer. Peering over her shoulder, Will smiled when he realized what was in the bag.

"Brought some other shoes with you, did you?"

She flushed and nodded. "I did. It was a good idea. Especially if we have another night like last night."

He nodded his approval and watched her put the shoes away. However, the night remained fairly quiet and Buffy had a lot of opportunity to rest her feet. There was also plenty of time for conversation while they worked at straightening up the tables of remaindered books, and by the end of the evening, Buffy felt as though she'd known Will for years and that he was one of her best friends. He'd shared much of his life story with her, telling her all about his reluctant move to California after his father died and his mother remarried an American businessman.

"So, you don't like it here?"

"Now I do. It was just a rough first few months - being wrenched away from everyone and every place I'd ever known. But I survived it. Don't think I'd want to move back there now."

It wasn't long before they had established a regular routine for their quieter nights – Buffy going out for dinner first, sometimes with Sean who stopped by at least once a week – and then Will running out to eat and flirt with the girls in the stores on either side of theirs. When the store was busy, they kept it running efficiently, working together seamlessly without much need for conversation about what each was going to do next. It was comfortable and familiar in a way Buffy was enjoying more than she cared to admit.

As the weeks wore on and Buffy and Will became more and more at ease with each other, it was becoming much harder for her to avoid mentioning her hospitalization. She'd told Sean – who was now more of a friend-of-a-friend than a potential date – that she'd been "away" for several years, using that as an excuse for only beginning her freshman year of college at an age when most girls would have been in their junior or senior year. Now that he had given up the idea of dating her, Sean didn't seem all that curious about her past and he accepted her explanations without question.

Will, however, was much more perceptive, and that, combined with the large amounts of time they spent together, meant Buffy found herself having a much more difficult time denying that she was lying by not telling him the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were just preparing to close up one night when Will accidentally barked his shin on an open drawer.

"Bloody hell!"

Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly flashed to blonder, slicked back hair and a long leather coat. She stared at him, her eyes unfocused as she fought back the memories now flooding her imagination. While her mind filled with scenes of violent fights, spell-induced kisses, loud arguments and quiet conversations, her eyes were staring blindly at Will, who was trying to get her attention.

"Buffy? What's wrong? I'm sorry about my language, but damn, that hurt!" When she didn't acknowledge him, he touched her arm gently. "Buffy? Are you alright?"

Startled out of her reverie, she jerked in panic and flinched away from him, her breath coming in hard gasps as she looked at him with newly aware eyes. Without answering, she ran her eyes over his lean, muscular body, noting exactly how tall he was in relation to her and the grace with which he moved. She looked into his worried eyes, registering the familiar blue color and the dark lashes before moving on to his sharp cheekbones. Still without explanation, she grabbed his chin and held his head still while she stared at his eyebrows, exhaling in relief when she saw that they were both perfect – unmarred by the scar she'd been afraid she would find there.

"You're freaking me out a bit here, pet," he said softly, so as not to startle her. "Want to tell old Will what's going on?"

Her shoulders slumped and she shuddered, collapsing into a chair and putting her head in her hands. She kept shaking her head as he hovered over her, unsure of what to do but afraid to touch her again.

"Buffy? Talk to me, luv. What did I do?"

She took a deep breath and raised her head to smile at him apologetically. "Nothing, Sp-Will--" She bit her lip and continued. "You didn't do anything. I just...I need to go now. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'll...maybe I'll explain then. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, "but you're not running out of here this upset by yourself. Let me finish up and I'll walk you out."

Instead of arguing, Buffy just stepped out into the mall corridor and waited patiently. She kept her attention sharply focused on the various posters in the shop window, reading them over and over until she was sure she could have reproduced them if needed. She kept her eyes away from Will, refusing to look at him again until they were on their way outside.

"You are going to explain this to me, aren't you?" he asked quietly as they stood waiting for her mother to pull up.

"I will...someday. I promise. I just...I need to talk to someone first...and I need to—Oh, look! Here's Mom!"

Joyce refused to acknowledge Buffy's frantic clawing at the locked door, choosing instead to get out and come around the car with her hand held out.

"Hello," she said with a warm smile. "I guess you must be Will. I'm Buffy's mother, Joyce. I want to thank you for keeping her safe every night."

"It's my pleasure, Mrs. Summers," he responded taking her hand and shaking it with just the right amount of warmth. "I'm sure she's perfectly safe here, but..."

Joyce gave Buffy a quick glance, immediately reading her agitation and decided to forgo her planned interrogation of the young man who figured so prominently in Buffy's stories about work in the bookstore. She gave him another warm smile and clicked the unlock button on her keys.

"Well, I appreciate it," she said quickly. "Even if she doesn't. So thank you. I hope to see you again sometime."

With Buffy already in the car, Joyce hurried around to the driver's side and got in, not speaking until they had pulled away from sidewalk where Will was staring after them.

"What happened?"

"I need to see Dr. Swinson," Buffy replied. "Tomorrow."

"Buffy..."

"It's okay, Mom. I'm still here. It's just that...I'll tell you about it after I talk to her, okay? It was just a flashback – I never went away, I just couldn't stop the memories and Will..."

"What about Will?" Joyce had gone into mother bear mode and was clearly ready to turn around and handle whatever the young man might have done to upset her daughter. "What did he do?"

"Nothing, Mom. Relax. You don't need to hit him with an axe or anything..." Buffy let her head fall back against the head restraint. "Oh, crap."

"I want an explanation, young lady. And I want it now. If that man did something to make you have flashbacks..."

"All he did was curse in British."

"Excuse me?"

"He said 'bloody hell', Mom. That's all he did."

Joyce was silent for a while as she digested that information. She knew quite a bit about Buffy's delusional world – both from things Buffy herself had said, and from conversations with the doctors when Buffy was younger.

"So," she said carefully, "which one was it he reminded you of? The older man –Giles was it? Or the vampire?"

"It was Spike," Buffy admitted. "He sounded just like him, and I...I just lost it. All of a sudden I was remembering stuff about Spike, things he did, things he said—"

"Wasn't Spike the one who was in love with you? Maybe it was your sub-conscious taking another look at Will and realizing that he wants to be more than just friends."

Buffy startled and her head swiveled towards her mother. "Oh my God. I'll bet that's it." The car was now parked in the driveway and Buffy leaned over to hug her mother tightly. "Thank you, Mom. Of course that's it. I mean, not that I think Will really...we're just really good friends...but it makes sense that he'd remind me of someone else who was a friend and used words like that."

"Remind you of an imaginary someone," Joyce reminded her gently.

"Right. Imaginary someone. I knew that."

Chapter Four

In spite of having an explanation that seemed to make sense to both of them, Buffy and Joyce agreed that she should probably move up her scheduled appointment with Dr. Swinson. The doctor's staff quickly arranged for Buffy to see her the following morning.

Dr. Swinson greeted Buffy warmly, hugging her and leading her into the familiar office with its comfortable chairs. They exchanged small talk for a few minutes, Buffy happily recounting how she'd driven there herself with minimal assistance from Joyce.

"I've been taking driving lessons from a professional driving school, and they think I'm ready to get my license. It's going to be so much easier on Mom when she doesn't have to arrange her work schedule around taking me to school and work."

"Doesn't your father help out with that?"

Buffy's face clouded briefly. "Well, sure, he does. But you know, he's always busy and his work takes him away a lot, and...." Her voice trailed off.

Dr. Swinson studied her face for a few seconds. "Okay. Well, it will be a great day then when you get your license, won't it?"

Buffy nodded, eager to bring the conversation back to the things that were going well in her life. "Yep. And since I have a job, I should be able to buy myself a used car and not have to depend on them at all. For transportation, anyway."

The doctor smiled at her enthusiasm, then sobered. "So, are you ready to tell me why you needed to see me a week early?"

Buffy frowned, then briefly recapped the night's events, including Joyce's guess as to why Will's words had triggered memories of Spike. Dr. Swinson listened and sat in silence until Buffy began to stir restlessly. She immediately lifted her head and smiled with reassurance.

"I think your mother might well be on to something," she with a small laugh. "If this young man is harboring romantic feelings towards you, I can see how it would trigger memories of the last man you remember falling in love with you."

"Last vampire who fell in love with me," Buffy corrected. She hesitated, and then said, "There's more."

Dr Swinson raised her eyebrows.

"Will... he kind of, sort of... looks like Spike. I mean, no bleached hair or fangs, but he's the same size and build, and his eyes are the same color...."

"Coincidence, Buffy. Surely you realize that? How many men with that build and blue eyes do you think there are living in the greater Los Angeles area?"

"With British accents?"

"Okay, I'll give you that. They may be less common. But Los Angeles is a multicultural city. People move here from all over the world – including England. All those actors who come here from England or Australia, plus anyone else who moved here for other reasons like Will apparently did. It's a big coincidence, I'll grant you, but that's all it is. That's all it can be. You believe that, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah. I understand that. It's just that it really freaked me out, you know? Like all those memories were so... so real. And I couldn't stop them. I almost called him Spike!" Buffy paused and bit her lip. "Okay, I have another question for you"

"Yes?"

"Okay, you explained that Will looking like Spike is probably—" Dr. Swinson raised an eyebrow and Buffy hastily amended, "is a coincidence. But what if I know other people who remind me of people in my delusion? How many coincidences can there be?"

"That's an easy one, Buffy. I'm surprised you didn't come to this conclusion yourself. More likely than your meeting new people who remind you of those in your imaginary world, is that you will find many of the characters in that world actually remind you of people you have already met. Incorporating them into that world would have saved you the energy required to replace everyone in your life completely." She smiled at Buffy. "Your mother and father had the same roles – even though they behaved differently – so they stayed the same. However, I'm sure most of the other people in that world were based on people you already knew or had seen somewhere. In fact, if you'd met Will somewhere before you got sick, I would say that you'd probably based Spike on him." She looked at Buffy intently. "Is there any chance of that?"

Buffy frowned. "I...I don't think so. I never asked him where he went to high school, and he's older than me... but I guess if he was a senior... or somebody's older brother.... I'll ask him tonight!" she said with excitement in her voice. "Wouldn't it be weird if he went to Hemery? That means Sean would have, too – which explains why he seems familiar sometimes."

"I don't think it would be weird at all," Dr. Swinson smiled. "I think it would make perfect sense. And it would explain why you invented a character that seems to resemble him."

Buffy gave a sigh of relief, and sank back in her chair.

"It would explain a lot," she said, slumping with relief. "I knew you would have an explanation. You know everything!"

Dr. Swinson gave a soft laugh and looked embarrassed. "I don't know everything, Buffy. When it comes to you, I'm amazed at what I don't know. But I do have an idea..."

Buffy sat up and waited for the doctor to continue.

"I thought about doing this as soon as you began to get well, but I wanted you to remove yourself from that world as much as possible at that time. However, now that you seem to have such a good grip on the real world, we – you may find this useful. I want you to get two notebooks. In one of them, I want you to jot down every time you have a flashback. What set it off, if you know what it was. What was it – real 'memory' or just a flash of something familiar? Was it a person, a place or an event? How long did the flashback last and how did it make you feel? What emotions did it elicit?"

"Dr. Swinson, you keep calling them 'flashbacks' and 'memories', but if that world was all in my mind, aren't they just... nothing?"

"I call them 'memories' because, for you, that's what they are. That world is where, for all intents and purposes, you have been for the last several years. Your body was here with us in Shady Pines, but your mind was somewhere else. Those memories are all you have of that time – and all you are ever likely to have. I cannot imagine, as deeply as you were into your imaginary world, that you are likely to have any conscious memories of anything else. I'm sure anytime the real world managed to intrude into that other life, it was quickly explained away as a dream."

"So, my dreams were my real world, and the real world was a dream?"

"Basically. I would love to think that at some level you knew what was really going on around you, and that we were trying to help you; but except for whatever your subconscious may have picked up from the television, I seriously doubt it. You were fighting us too hard." She shook her head, saying, "You said yourself that you think you must have incorporated many of the things going on here into your delusion. We hated to use restraints or force on you, but as you know...."

"Yeah." Buffy sighed. "At least some of the times I thought I was fighting minions, or chained up—" She stopped to shake her head free of the memory of Spike's unique method of telling her he loved her. "At least some of the time, I guess I really was fighting... somebody or something."

"You were," Dr. Swinson said kindly. "It was all we could do for so many years – just try to keep you safe and quiet. If you remember what I told you when you first came back to us, it wasn't until we started you on the new anti-psychotics that you began to be here long enough for me to begin serious therapy."

"I'd almost forgotten about the drugs," Buffy said, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not sure I like that I was on drugs. How could I have forgotten that?"

"It wasn't necessary for you to remember it. As soon as you were able to remain mentally here – with us – for extended periods of time, we began to wean you off the meds. They're very powerful and can have unintended side effects; but in your case, they were what it took to break the hold over you that your imaginary world had. Once the hold was broken...."

"So, I could go crazy again at any time?" Buffy's willingness to openly express her deepest fear brought a quick response from her doctor.

"I certainly hope not!" Dr. Swinson said. "I'd like to think that once we broke you out of that world, it lost its hold over your imagination. However," she said, staring hard at Buffy, "if at any time you feel yourself slipping away – even if it's just a dream from which you wake up in the morning – I want you to come in immediately. I would much rather you come in willingly before things get bad, than for your parents to have to bring you in because you've lost touch with reality again."

Buffy nodded. "I wouldn't want that to happen, either. I've done enough to screw up their lives already."

"They love you," the doctor said quickly. "Please don't think of yourself as a burden to them."

Buffy shrugged. "So, what's the other notebook for?"

"Ah, that one I want you to use to write down everything you know or can remember about your other world. In chronological order."

At Buffy's shocked reaction, she smiled.

"I know it sounds strange that I want you to remember it, but this is where you've been. These are the experiences you think you've had." She hesitated, admitting, "In all honesty, it's as much for me as for you. I can rationalize much of what you seem to know, but I'm having a hard time understanding how you went from a high school freshman to a college freshman without ever having cracked a textbook. Or, that your mother tells me about the books you've "read" that we know we don't have here at the hospital. There are some really intriguing gaps in your experience that you seem to have managed to fill somehow, and I'd like to try to figure out how. It could help me cure someone else someday."

"Ooookay," Buffy said dubiously. "I don't think one notebook is going to do it, though..."

"Probably not." Dr. Swinson nodded her agreement. "But let's just begin with one notebook and see how it goes. You'll basically be writing the detailed history of the past several years as you think you lived it."

"Don't you already have most of this on tape?"

"I do. I have a great deal of the major events and facts: that you believed yourself to be Chosen to slay vampires; that those creatures actually exist; and the names of the people who were important to you in that world. What I don't have is the day-to-day record of that life. The incredibly detailed structure that you created to make the delusion work as well as it did."

She paused and looked at Buffy's worried face, smiling her reassurance.

"If you just start writing, almost like you were keeping a daily journal – except, of course, that you will have to remember the events from years ago rather than writing them down as they are fresh in your mind – I think it will work. You can always go back and fill in other details as they occur to you."

"So, I'm not sure I get this: instead of trying to avoid remembering stuff that never happened, you want me to write it down? Just like it was real?"

"I do." Dr. Swinson nodded firmly. "It may actually help you to maintain your grip on the real world, as you record these somewhat... um... unusual events."

Buffy gave her a wry grin. "You mean you think having to admit to myself that I think there are such things as vampires and demons and witches might embarrass me out of it?"

"Something like that." Dr. Swinson smiled warmly. "Let's give it a try. If you think it's becoming too stressful, or that you're dwelling on that life too much, then stop immediately and give me a call. I don't want this to backfire on you."

"I'm game if you are." Buffy felt a strange sense of relief that she was no longer going to have to smother the memories that popped up from time to time. She looked at the doctor eagerly. "I'm going to get those notebooks on the way home – but I'm going to get three of them."

"Three?"

"I'm going to keep track of everybody I can remember from before I got sick – and I'm going to try to figure out who I might have made them into in my delusion."

"That's an excellent idea, Buffy. The more you understand where the imaginary people came from, the less likely you will be to go back to believing that they are real."

"This was great, Doc! Thanks so much." Buffy jumped from the chair, ran around the desk and gave Dr. Swinson a hug before bolting out the door and grabbing her mother's hand. "Come on, Mom. We've got a stop to make before we get home."

As Buffy tried to explain what Dr. Swinson wanted her to do, she could see Joyce's face tightening up.

"It's going to be okay, Mom. Really. It's like I'll be writing a story – and it will be so weird and unreal that it will help me understand why it can't be true. And, bonus, I don't have to feel guilty or worry every time I think I'm remembering something that isn't real. I can just write it down and go about my business. It'll work. You'll see."

"I hope you're right, honey."

Chapter Five

Since Buffy and Will couldn't be out of the store at the same time, Sean had formed the habit of eating dinner with whichever one was free on the occasional nights he dropped by. Between the two of them, Buffy had learned a lot about their lives and friendship. Both had been jocks – Sean a football player and Will a valued member of the soccer, or, as he insisted on calling it, "real football", team. They both loved the beach and were weekend surfers.

They'd gone to different colleges and pursued different career paths, but somehow had maintained the friendship they'd begun when Will first arrived at South Lakes High School, a stranger to both the school and the country. Sean had taken the smart, funny and athletic young Brit under his wing. Will's need for friends and guidance in the ways of his new country was long gone, but he still remembered Sean's welcome assistance when everything was new and different and, in spite of the differences in their current life styles, he still enjoyed his old friend's company.

There'd been a few days of awkwardness between them following Buffy's first dinner with Sean, but Will's growing feelings for her were more than obvious to someone who had known him so long, and Sean had eased himself out of the picture without making a big deal of it. His transition from potential dating material to casual friend was so gradual and seamless that none of them noticed there'd been a change. Will was Buffy's daily companion, and Sean his charming friend who showed up occasionally to visit with them on slow nights.

Having the steady company of two such different but good-looking and entertaining men more than made up for the lack of actual dating in Buffy's life. And if she occasionally woke in the middle of the night, remembering scenes of fighting with and against men who bore an uncanny resemblance to her two new friends, she just jotted the memories down in her notebook and went back to sleep – happily ignoring both the resemblances and the occasions in which her dream men were wearing fangs and distorted faces.

~~~~~~~~~

Since Buffy took her notebooks with her everywhere, she couldn't hide them from Will for very long. It didn't take him long to realize that she wasn't doing homework when she sat down during lulls and jotted things down in one or the other of the notebooks, but his first question about what she was writing so vigorously put such a frightened expression on her face that he quickly backed off and assured her that he didn't want to pry into her business. However, his curiosity was obviously killing him, and one evening when the store was particularly quiet, and she had been scribbling furiously, he couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Should I be worried?" he said with a teasing smile. Buffy blinked at him.

"Worried? About what?"

"That you're going to be a famous author long before I am."

"Oh—you mean this stuff...." She studied his kind face, searching for any sign of a mean streak that she was sure he didn't have. When she saw nothing there but affection and genuine curiosity, she beckoned him to sit down opposite her.

"If I..." She stopped, shook her head and stared over. "I want to tell you some... stuff... about me, but I'm afraid you won't like me anymore and you'll want to stay as far away from me as you can get."

He reached forward and took her hand in his. The calluses from his martial arts training gave her another flashback to a paler hand with similar rough areas and she gasped. Frowning at her response, but encouraged that she hadn't pulled away, he stroked her hand gently.

"Buffy, I think you know by now that there isn't much you could do to make me stay away from you. I'm your friend, and if you want to tell me what you're doing, I want to hear it. But if you don't, if it's too personal or none of my business, that's alright, too."

"I know you're my friend, Will," she said. "And I trust you, I do. I—" A sudden flashback to a time when she hadn't trusted Spike and been surprised to find she could sent her diving for her "memory" book. She hastily scribbled down enough to remind her that she needed to write about Spike and how he'd earned her trust for the first time.

She finished her notes and looked up with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I did it again, didn't I? I'm going to explain, really. You just have to promise you won't think I'm crazy.... Er, well, actually, that's kinda what I have to tell you – that I am crazy. Or, I was, but now I'm better and all this writing stuff down is supposed to be helping me stay better."

Taking a deep breath, she glanced around to be sure there weren't any customers and then began. "I spent the past few... okay, several... years in a mental hospital," she said, looking him firmly in the eye as she did so. He just nodded encouragingly and sat back in his chair. Twenty minutes later, she was winding down just as a mother and her daughter came into the store looking for some research materials and Buffy got up to wait on them.

When she had checked them out, she walked slowly back to where Will was still sitting in his chair, seemingly staring off into space. He glanced up when he felt her approach and gave her a warm smile.

"So," he said, "I was right. You will be a famous writer long before I am. There's no way I can match that imagination." There was no mockery in his voice, or on his expressive face, just a soft understanding and a trace of admiration.

"Yeah, that's me. Buffy the imaginer," she agreed with a wry smile. "Pretty weird, huh?"

"It's pretty amazing, actually." He picked up the notebook in which she was recording her memories of her daily life as well as she could remember it. "May I?"

Buffy nodded shyly. "I'm supposed to be keeping a journal—except it's all stuff that happened a long time ago, so I tend only to remember the exciting stuff. Sort of like a diary, I guess. Only with blood and killing things."

Without responding, he skimmed through the first several pages, pausing occasionally to read something more carefully, then skipping ahead again. Buffy fidgeted in her chair, grateful when she had to get up again to wait on customers and didn't have to watch his face as he read through what she still sometimes thought of as her life.

"Will?" she said, interrupting his reading. "It's time to go home."

He stood up and handed the notebook back to her, gesturing at the other ones. "So what's in those?"

"Oh, well, this one is for my flashbacks. Each time it happens, I have to write down what it was and what I think might have triggered it. " She flushed and looked at the rug. "I think that's Dr. Swinson's way of making sure that I'm not spending too much time out of touch with reality. If I have to stop and write stuff down, it reminds me that it didn't really happen."

"And this one?" He pointed at the one that seemed the least used.

"That was my idea. I was going to write down everything I can remember from my real life, before I got sick. To see how many things or people I put into my delusion that are actually based on real people or things that happened."

"And how's that working out?"

Buffy frowned. "Probably not as well as she thought it would. Except for my parents, I haven't come up with anybody I used to know who reminds me of somebody in Sunnydale."

He cocked his head at her in a gesture already so familiar that she no longer bothered to enter it in her "flashback" notebook.

"Does this have anything to do with asking me and Sean what high school we went to?"

Buffy blushed. "Yeah, it does. I thought maybe if you guys went to Hemery, even if you were, like, way ahead of me, I might have seen you often enough to...."

"To make us part of your fantasy?"

"It isn't... wasn't a 'fantasy'. It was a delusion. An imaginary world." Buffy glared at him, which felt much too familiar considering that this was the first time Will had so much as mildly annoyed her since they'd met.

"And we were part of that imaginary world? Seriously?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, embarrassed at how silly it sounded when she said it out loud. "I just know that you look a lot like Sp—one of the people in my delusion. You even have sort of the same name," she added when he started to shrug. "And Sean kinda looks like An—another person I knew there. And you're kind of connected. I mean being friends and having gone to high school together and stuff, so I just thought...."

"But we didn't go to Hemery, Buffy," he said. "We don't even know anyone who did. We're from the opposite side of the city."

"I know," she pouted. "You told me. But you look so much like him!"

"Ah, come on, luv." he said, "How many men must there be who look like me? I mean, granted, they can't all be this good-looking, but—"

"And now you're starting to sound like him," she said, stamping her foot. "Don't do that!"

"Why not?" His brow wrinkled at her uncharacteristic vehemence. "I thought you wanted to have more flashbacks to write in your little book there."

"I don't want them! I want to understand them. And right now, every time I look at you, you say or do something that makes me think of Spike!"

"Spike? I remind you of some guy called 'Spike'?" Will did his best to look only curious, but something in his expression made Buffy narrow her eyes suspiciously.

"Yes, Spike. Why?"

"No reason. No reason at all." He bit back a comment about not caring to be compared to someone whose name reminded him of a dog.

"You're lying. You've always been a lousy—I mean—" Buffy slumped back into the chair and moaned. "Oh, God. Now I'm starting to talk to you like you are Spike. I knew this was a bad idea."

Torn by her obvious distress, Will dropped to his knees in front of her.

"I'm sorry, luv. Please don't be upset. We'll figure this out. There's got to be an explanation. Maybe we met somewhere else. I used to work at soccer camps in the summers when I was in high school; maybe you were at one of them?"

Buffy shook her head. "I was an ice-skater and a gymnast. I never played other sports because I was afraid I'd get hurt and not be able to compete when I needed to."

"Well, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this. We just have to sort it out."

"The only reasonable explanation is that I'm going crazy again." Her shoulders tensed and her face fell into unhappy lines.

"Don't say that!" he snapped, fighting the urge to shake her. "You're here now, and you're going to stay here. You're going to finish college and...and lead a perfectly normal life."

"Don't be so sure," she grumbled, even as she relaxed a little. "You don't know that."

"I know that you're strong and brave and smart, and that you're not going to let this thing ruin your life. I won't let you."

Buffy suddenly leaned forward to where he still knelt in front of her and brushed her lips across his. Then gasped as the memory of another time and place, another grateful kiss, hit her.

"What's that, then?" Will asked quietly, not moving away.

"Thank you. Thank you for being my friend and for believing in me and for not wanting to run away when you found out you were working with a crazy person."

His eyes asking for silent permission, Will leaned in and touched his lips to hers, lingering just long enough to make it clear that it was a kiss, but not so long as to make her uncomfortable. He sat back and cocked his head again, noticing her tiny flinch, but ignoring it in favor of saying what he wanted to say.

"I can't imagine anything you could do that would make me want to run away from you," he said, raising one hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

When her only reply was to blush from her hairline to what he could see of her cleavage, he sighed and rose gracefully to his feet, holding out his hand and pulling her up too.

"Let's get you home and we'll figure this out some more tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay. Let me get my stuff." She scooped up her notebooks and pen, got her purse and good shoes from the drawer and walked outside to wait for him to drop the anti-theft barrier. They walked through the mall, not speaking but in a relatively comfortable silence for two people whose friendship had perhaps just moved to a new level.

As they walked towards the parking lot, Buffy tried to come to grips with this new development in her life. She'd made a lot of casual friends among the other girls her age working in nearby stores, and even had a few "study buddies" from the college. However, no one had become a part of her life the way Will had.

Buffy's admission that she'd been in a mental hospital, and the subsequent exchange of kisses, contributed to a few anxious moments when they approached Will's car. What had begun as a friendly gesture on his part—dropping her off at home after work so that her parents didn't have to work around her schedule—suddenly loomed much larger.

When he moved ahead to open the car door for her, she froze and stared at him with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Except... I can open my own doors. You don't need to—"

Will sighed and closed the door, leaning up against it to look at her.

"Buffy," he began, pausing and running his hands through his hair. "I can't take back the kiss. And I can't take back anything I said tonight. But if it's going to make you uncomfortable to be around me—"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't mean to... and I'm not saying we can't... but I...." She blew out her breath in a loud sigh. "I just told you a big, important secret about me. And I did it because you're my friend. I trust you, and I... I need... I need to know that you're still my friend."

He reached out a hand and pulled her closer, almost, but not quite holding her in a loose embrace.

"I will always be your friend, Buffy. No matter what else does or doesn't happen between us—nothing will change that. I can't tell you what it means that you shared your secret with me. That you trust me that much. I don't want to do anything to jeopardize that relationship. And I sure as hell don't want you to be uncomfortable or afraid to be alone with me."

Buffy shook her head in frustration. "See? This is the problem. I don't know how to do this. In real life, I've never had a boyfriend—not since ninth grade, anyway. In my imaginary world, I've had at least some—or, well, two maybe... if you don't count that jerk, Parker... and Spike isn't.... Anyway, the point is, I don't know how to behave with a guy who likes me. I don't know how to date, I don't know how to not date if I don't want to, and I don't know how to tell what the guy wants. It scares me. I don't want to do something wrong and lose you as my friend."

"Not gonna happen, luv." He stood up and opened the car door again. "Tell you what. You decide if, when and how much you want our relationship to change. I won't push you, and if anything I do or say makes you uncomfortable, you just tell me, yeah? I'll stop."

"Really?" Buffy said, as she slid into the car. "You'll let me be the decider?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" He got into the driver's side and pulled his door closed. As he worked on putting the key in the ignition, he turned his head to grin at her. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to be hovering around, mind you. Just in case you do decide you want more; I don't want to be too far away." He waggled an eyebrow at her and gave her a theatrical leer.

Buffy giggled and relaxed into her seat. The rest of the ride home was spent in easy small talk that ended when they reached her house.

Chapter Six

"Do you want to come in?" Buffy asked.

They'd formed the habit of having tea or hot chocolate with her mother one or two evenings a week if she was still up when Buffy got home. Joyce was becoming quite fond of the young man who was doing so much to keep Buffy out of her imagination and in the normal world.

"Not tonight, pet. I'm meeting Sean at some new club he found. He needs a wingman, so I said I'd come by when I got you safely home."

"Wingman?"

"I'll explain tomorrow," he said with a chuckle. He opened his door and was around to her side of the car before she could step out. Offering his hand, he helped her to the sidewalk and closed the door behind her. They walked slowly to her front door, suddenly aware that they would be saying "goodnight" on the front porch—a classic "should I or shouldn't I?" situation. Will stopped before the steps and stayed there while Buffy started up. She stopped and turned around, her position on the bottom step putting her face level with his. Their eyes locked and for a full minute they just stared at each other, neither one willing to risk tipping the balance.

Finally, with a "Bloody hell!" that seemed only too familiar, Will leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers. Before he could move away, Buffy grabbed his face and held it still while she planted a chaste but firm kiss on his mouth.