Chapter Five: Therapy?





“H-Hello Buffy, m-my name is Eleanor Pastel. I-I’m your new phis-phiso…uh, th-therapist.” The timid woman tried to smile at the young woman sitting on the bed.



If she hadn’t known better she wouldn’t have thought anything was the matter with her legs. The younger woman held herself with poise; her very aura oozed strength and power.



And hostility.



Buffy raised an eyebrow, dismissively looking the woman up and down. “So, you’re the new one, huh?” She rolled her eyes as Eleanor jumped at her sharp tone.



This one made five in two weeks and from the looks of it they were down to scraping the bottom of the barrel.



The first two had been easily deterred by her violence. Things thrown around them…they’d all cracked under the pressure and the fear.



Fear was something Buffy was good at instilling. She’d had a lot of practise. Except her practise was with demons – creatures that killed for a living – fought for fun.



Humans were a walk in the park in comparison. And she tended to over-do it.



Then had come Matron Pain…Buffy had been proud of her…a full five days she’d lasted before running from the house in floods of tears.



But the piest d’resistance was Aaron Nelson. He’d been the easiest of the bunch. She’d taunted and teased him…mocking him and his position with her promises of wild sexual abuse allegations.



“I’ll tell them you touched me…” She’d whispered venomously, her cold eyes staring directly into his shocked ones on the third day. “…tell them how you tied me down and put a gag in my mouth when I tried to scream for help. I’ll tell them how you struck me, and forced your cock inside me…”



“…How you showed me the blood you’d cut from me so I could know how rough you’d been. You’d probably like to do that, wouldn’t you Nelly-boy?”



“Is it one of your sick dark fantasies that you beat off too when you go off to the bathroom? I bet your wife would love to hear all about it…”



Buffy figured this one wouldn’t last the day.



Ten minutes into the first ‘session’ the woman still hadn’t been able to edge away from the door frame, and neither would she be able to given the look on her face as the Slayer continued her individual brand of verbal assault on the poor woman.



“Did you know the skill it takes to kill a Polaraksh demon? You have to slide a Jakata dagger straight down the centre of its spine, watch as it begins to shake and its outer skin starts to dissolve. You have a split second before it explodes.” She slid said knife out of her bedside draw, running the tip of the blade achingly slowly over the wood and then on to the bed.



She continued in her deceptively sweet voice, as Ms. Pastel stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the dagger. “Do you have any idea of the quantity of blood I have on my hands? The pain and the shrieks that haunt my dreams…the people I’ve allowed to kill…to be killed.” Buffy shrugged with a mockery of a smile gracing her lips.



She drew the dagger over her uncovered legs, watching dispassionately as trails of bright red blood sprung up behind her as she cut lightly into her thighs.



Eleanor gasped, knowing inside that she needed to move – to get help. But her mind had shut down and her body shook with fear.



“Did you know, that if I push the knife in deep the blood changes colour?” Buffy asked conversationally as her hand continued to trail light zig-zags across her useless legs.



The nurse let out a shriek as suddenly the dagger was flying through the air, and embedded itself in the new plaster just two inches from her head. Tears poured out of the woman’s eyes as she finally found the courage to escape.



She pounded down the stairs, sobbing all the way and ignoring the distressed sounds of the kind gentleman who had let her in earlier.



“Bye…” Buffy grinned as the door slammed shut downstairs.



Moments later Giles appeared in the doorway, a shocked and worried look on his face.



Buffy shrugged flippantly when he took in the sight of her bloodied legs and the ceremonial knife in the wall. “Was it something I said?”



Giles sighed silently, shaking his head. Without a word he turned from the room to head to downstairs for the medical box so that he could wrap her wounds. He knew they didn’t really need it – they’d mend in an hour, something that Buffy hated all the more as she knew her mobility would not.



But he needed the break from her; he didn’t want her to see his grief.



Buffy’s shoulders slumped the second the door closed. As the footsteps got further and further away her body started trembling.



Shaking.



She couldn’t stop it.



Tears poured down her face but her hands were shaking too badly for her to wipe them away.



God, what was she doing?



This wasn’t right – it wasn’t her…



That poor woman… She’d been so scared…so very, very frightened.



She’d done that to her. Buffy had. No-one else.



“What am I doing?” She whispered to the room.



Buffy jumped as the heard Giles start wearily up the stairs once more.



The reaction was instantaneous.



Her body stopped shaking; her hands quickly wiped the tears from her eyes as her face moulded itself into a mask of disinterest.



She knew why she was doing this.



She had to. She had to be free.



*This is the only way.* She thought despairingly, just as Giles opened the door once more, wet cloth and gauze in hand.



---



“I just don’t know what to do. We’ve tried so hard…I’m so sorry for all this trouble, I never thought…” Joyce was at a loss for words as she tried, yet again, to plead the case for her daughter to Dr. Walker.



“I understand, Joyce. Buffy is having a hard time adjusting – it’s not unheard of. And no-one’s blaming any of you. Especially not Buffy.” She stated kindly.



Mrs. Summers sighed out her relief. “I don’t know what to do.” She reiterated.



“It is….” Kate paused, searching for the right words. “…highly unconventional, but there is always the possibility of a family member or close friend learning to undertake the daily therapy; it is what we were trying to build towards in any case.”



Joyce’s eyes lit up at the seemingly perfect suggestion, listening with rapt attention as the doctor continued with her conditions.



“Regular visits would need to be undertaken by a certified therapist to ensure that no problems were developing under the surface.” She stated unequivocally. The other woman readily voiced her concurrence.



After another pause, Dr. Walker continued. “As I said, this is highly unconventional – I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it under normal circumstances, however, Buffy is strong and I believe that with family commitment this could aid in her physical and mental readjustment.”



“As with everything, it may take time, but at this point I truly believe that this is the best course of action for your daughter.”



Joyce nodded eagerly, “Tell me what I need to do.”





TBC ASAP In....

Chapter Six :: Alienation