The Song Remains the Same by SMac

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Chapter 38: In The Beginning...

Author's Note: Okay, a few points. First, in the last chapter I zoned and called Spike 'William Giles' and said he was Giles' 'son'. I'd been reading some stories where that was the case and just mistyped when I wrote the chapter. About fifty people read it before I went back and fixed it. So to you fifty or so, sorry about that. His name is William Rayne, and he's Giles' nephew. Second, in this chapter, I mention a 'therapeutic agreement' but don't give details. What I mean is the standard, ' what we say is private except for if you are going to hurt yourself or anyone else, or reveal child abuse, etc' disclaimer psychotherapists must give. I didn't want to halt the flow of the narrative with housekeeping details such as that. And third, the book I mention is one I was given when I was a teenager and in spite of its title found quite comforting somehow. It is a book from an English author named A. Alvarez, from around the sixties and seventies, and deals with suicide and literature. Not suicide 'in literature', but suicide 'and literature', from ancient times to today. Sylvia Plath has a featured chapter, as a 'for instance'. Anyway, I love that book. It got me through some weird times, and sits proudly on my bookshelf today. I've seen it on the shelves in psychotherapists offices as well, so I know that I am not the only one that thinks that book is special and weirdly comforting. Anyway, on with the chapter.


Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.

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In the Beginning...



Tuesday


Tuesday morning broke crisp and clear, with a significant drop in temperature. Buffy huddled under the comforter as long as she could, holding onto that last bit of cozy warmth her bed offered, dreading facing the new day.

*Condoms.*

She didn't know how she would ever face either of her foster parents again. The fact that they bought her a box of condoms was bad enough, but two dozen of them! What were they thinking, that she was going to hang out at the Bronze and take on all comers? Was that really how they saw her? Besides her natural mortification, she was very discouraged that they would see in her someone who would have need of these in the first place, much less so many of them. And 'ribbed for her pleasure'? What did that even mean?

Baby or no baby, in her own mind Buffy hadn't yet made the leap into thinking of herself as someone who was 'sexually active'. Prior to her pregnancy, she'd felt that everyone she knew was pretty much on the same page with her on that assumption about herself. Now, though, she was being viewed in a much different light, and she was having some trouble wrapping her mind around the thought.

Before she was attacked and her life forever diverted from its normal course, Buffy was still a barely-fifteen year old virgin who liked to dance and flirt and maybe share a kiss or two if the boy was cute and seemed 'safe'. But that had been it. For all her daring to sneak out and go to parties with her friends, her bravery had ended where any further intimacy with boys was concerned. At that time in her life, she just hadn't been ready for that level of trust and intimacy with the opposite sex. She traveled in a pack, like other young girls her age in her social circle did. Pretending to be worldly-wise was one thing, actually being and owning it was quite another. She'd been naiveté personified.

But now she was almost seventeen, and she suddenly realized that she had still been seeing herself as a fourteen year old high school freshman. And somehow, while she was busy changing diapers and wiping pureed pears off of -- well, off of everything, really -- the rest of the world had moved on and grown up, and she herself had been redefined and categorized in ways for which she wasn't quite prepared. It was a lot to take in.

And at almost seventeen, she thought gravely, any boys she dated would expect a more mature level of behavior and intimacy than when she had been younger. And 'any boys' included Spike. This was no longer about running in packs and 'playing' grown-up any longer. She was expected to have 'arrived' by this time.

*sigh*

She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. She couldn't stay in bed all day, she had to brave going downstairs eventually. Even so, she thought it better to wait until she was fairly certain John at least had left for work. Facing Rosemary was hard enough, but she couldn't imagine what she would say to John this morning. If he even knew. Perhaps Rosemary had bought them and hadn't mentioned it to John. That was possible, right? Rosemary had been a teenage girl once, surely she'd understand how embarrassing this all was to Buffy? Right?

Buffy groaned softly as she rolled out of the comfy bed. It was nine. John had to be gone by now.

It was time to face the new day.


~~~~~~


It was eleven o'clock in the morning and Buffy had just settled down on the comfortable sofa in her new therapist's office. She sat stiff and still, holding her arms closely around herself, and gazed silently about the room at the art and objects that decorated the tables and walls. There was a definite polar bear parent-child theme among the pictures, and interesting books and toys were strewn about in baskets and upon bookshelves.

The Savage God - A Study of Suicide read one of the titles. *That's not at all depressing,* she sighed.

Several diplomas from universities both in Britain and the U.S. hung above the large mahogany desk in the corner of the room. The therapist -- her name was Olivia, and she was 'highly recommended' by Tanya -- was an absolutely beautiful black woman with a very cultured English accent. Buffy couldn't imagine anyone would want to kill themselves if they could instead live and continue to listen to Olivia speak in that hypnotically soothing way she had.

*And what's with all the English people, anyway?* Buffy puzzled. *It's way weird.*

Olivia took a seat in a comfortable chair immediately across from the sofa, rested a writing pad and pen upon her crossed legs, and smiled softly in her direction. Buffy braced herself.

*Showtime.*






Olivia was quietly making her own observations of the girl who had been ordered into therapy by no less than Judge Holtz himself. That had to have been a first, she thought with both amusement and some concern. What on earth had possessed the no-nonsense judge to order special therapy for this young girl? It was completely out of character for the man. He was known for his disdain of psychotherapy in the treatment of juvenile offenders. He believed that rehabilitation was a failure and a waste of good money better spent elsewhere. And yet, here she sat, on his direct orders. Astonishing.

She had received very little information from Tanya when the appointment was first arranged, and in any case preferred to make her own observations and treatment plan without a great deal of outside interference. She knew that Buffy had been ordered by Judge Holtz to attend these sessions as part of her probation plan, and that she had at some point been the victim of a sexual assault.

Olivia, however, had her own diagnosis and therapeutic plan to determine. Judges may order children into therapy, but they could not command the human psyche. The patient would reveal, and change, and grow, on their own timetable, and not on that of any judge or case worker. And children would not move an inch forward, she knew, unless trust and caring were first established. Olivia thought trust might be a bigger hurdle to jump than anything else where this young one was concerned. Any larger issues would have to wait until deeper needs were addressed.

Once Buffy had read and signed the therapeutic agreement form, Olivia put it away and settled down in the big chair so that they could 'begin'.

"Well, Buffy, I'm very happy to be able to meet with you today. Did your case worker go over anything with you regarding what you and I will be doing together in these sessions?" Olivia waited patiently for Buffy to respond.

Buffy stared at the carpet between them, chewing on her thumbnail. She said nothing.

When it became obvious that Buffy would not verbalize an answer, Olivia tried another tack.

"Do you have any questions that you would like to ask of me before we begin here today?"

Buffy raised her eyes from the floor and stared at Olivia seriously for a moment. She ceased worrying her thumbnail, and wrapped both arms around herself once more. "I do have one question." Her chin jutted out a bit, and the defensive walls were raised high.

Olivia waited.

"Did, like, a British cruise ship sink off the coast here and ... what? You all just swam ashore and decided this'd be as good a place as any to buy a house and raise the kids?" Buffy watched Olivia expectantly, waiting to see what she would say to the rude response.

*So. Anger is clearly a well-used tool in the arsenal,* Olivia thought. *And humor as well?*

Olivia shook her head gently in response. "No, actually, we're all part of an apocalyptic English cult. Our leader in London gathered us all together one day and told us that the spaceship which would come for us was due to land in just this part of California. So off we all flew, across the ocean, to live and wait, here in Sunnydale." She smiled and waited to see what Buffy would say now.

Buffy continued to stare solemnly at her therapist and retorted. "Do you think they'll come for you before we're finished here?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, I think we have time before the end arrives. Regardless, when it does come for us, it'll be taking Judge Holtz as well, so I suppose it won't matter if we've not finished yet, as far as he is concerned."

"Good to know." Buffy nodded seriously. "Don't wanna disappoint the judge." She finally released the tight hold she had on her arms, and lay her hands loosely in her lap.

"I take it you've been meeting a lot of British people since you've been here."

"You could say that."

"Does that bother you? That we're not Americans?"

"Nope," Buffy shook her head. "Now that I know about the whole cult thing, it's cool."

Olivia was glad to see Buffy give her first small smile since her arrival.

"Well, that's good to know." Olivia smiled back.

Buffy sighed and looked around the room again. "Did they tell you anything about me? About why I'm supposed to be here?"

Olivia considered the girl before her. She appeared to be quite intelligent, and the waters ran deep. How far would she dare to wade today? She didn't think it was wise to go too far too fast, and she wanted Buffy to know that she wasn't expected to deal with issues for which she wasn't yet ready.

"I have some idea of the main issue about which Judge Holtz was concerned." She considered Buffy carefully. "If you would prefer, we can simply discuss whatever is of concern to you, and if there is anything in particular you feel you need to talk about during any session we can deal with it at that time. We won't push into anything for which you are not ready."

"But Judge Holtz said he was going to get a report from you on how cooperative I am." Buffy challenged.

"Cooperation means 'do you come to the sessions?' 'Are you on time?' 'Are you willing to discuss anything during the sessions?' I will not be reporting to Judge Holtz about the content of our sessions. He will not know what we talk about, only that we are talking."

Olivia could see Buffy watching her carefully, sizing up whether this was someone she could trust, and whether her words were true or simply platitudes told to children to convince them to confide and share. She watched as Buffy seemed to decide to offer something back, to decide to trust, even a little bit.

She began flatly, "A week ago last Saturday the police came to my apartment, accused me of being a major drug dealer, took my baby away from me and took me to jail. That Monday there was a hearing and Judge Holtz decided that I wasn't a drug dealer but he took my baby away from me anyway, and gave me a bunch of things I have to do before I can get her back."

Olivia remained silent and waited to see if Buffy had more to say. Buffy pulled out a paper from her front jeans pocket and unfolded it in her lap.

"This is a list of the things I have to do before he'll let me have my daughter back again." She handed the paper over to Olivia, who read it with interest and concern.

"if I do everything that's on that list, maybe, in four months, Judge Holtz will let me have my baby back ... Maybe." Buffy pronounced this last quietly, and awaited Olivia's response.

Olivia was taken aback by the list of requirements Buffy laid out before her, and also by the matter-of-fact manner in which she presented it. It would prove overwhelming to anyone, much less to a young girl without support of family or friends. She couldn't change what had occurred or what had been ordered by Judge Holtz, but she could make certain that she did not add to the burdens the poor child was carrying. She needed some emotional support more than anything else right now.

"That's a lot to have happen in such a short period of time. A great deal for anyone to take in, to be able to handle even under the best of circumstances. You must feel very angry that your life has been upset in this manner, by people you've never met and who don't really know you."

"Not really." Buffy said flatly. "I'm doing fine."

"I know that I would be quite upset."

She watched as the girl considered that admission.

Buffy folded her hands neatly in her lap, looked evenly across at Olivia and smiled.

"I'm fine." She nodded confidently. "Really."

Olivia realized that this was the way the child dealt with these enormous upheavals in her short life, and that she would have to be very careful not to prematurely rip away her only coping mechanisms. There was a long road to travel before anything was going to be approaching 'fine' in Buffy's life. And she was fairly certain that Buffy herself realized it, but did not feel free to permit anyone else to see her fears.

She'd have to see what she could do to allay those fears, and help this girl to come out of this nightmarish existence, and be happy and whole again.


~~~~~~


After some light Christmas shopping near Olivia's office, Buffy wandered back home to the enormous challenge of avoiding both her foster parents and of preparing for her date with Spike that evening. Her first date with a boy. Ever. Her parents had been quite strict about the 'no dating before sixteen' rule. To have a boy she liked actually come over to the house, ring the doorbell, and whisk her away in his car for a real date was like something out of some old teen movie to her. It was both exciting and completely nerve-wracking.

As she entered her bedroom she noticed the light on her answering machine was blinking. She said a quick 'thank you' for foster parents who let her have her 'own' private telephone, something her real mother had never been willing to consider.

It was Spike. He was sorry but his uncle had asked him to be home a little earlier tonight as it was still a school night, and he would therefore like to pick her up at six rather than seven if that was okay.

Buffy released the breath she was holding and smiled. The numbing fear that he was canceling on her had woven around her heart and the relief that he was simply letting her know about the earlier start left her giddy. She called him and left a voice message on his cell phone that six was fine and she was looking forward to their date. She clicked off with a quick goodbye, then worried for a good ten minutes about whether she sounded like a kid or a 'woman' in the message.

She finally decided she'd sounded fine, and at any rate couldn't exactly change it anyway, so she'd better just forget about it and work on getting ready. She only had three hours left.


~~~~~~


Eight complete changes of outfit and three entirely different hair styles later, and it was almost six o'clock. On the one hand she was relieved when Rosemary stuck her head in the door and asked if she was 'doing okay in there' and then left as soon as Buffy assured her all was well. On the other hand, she really could do with some feedback and advice regarding her look. But she didn't want to invite Rosemary back in, as she was still squicked by Sunday's little conversation and was afraid to open any more of those doors to the weird and uncomfortable. John was entirely absent, which was a huge relief in itself. She wished she felt more comfortable asking Willow to come over and help her get dressed. She would have had Tara and Amy there if this were back home. But she didn't feel like she could make that kind of imposition on her new friend's time just yet, so she was going to have to wing it on her own here.

The doorbell rang in the distance, and she rushed to the top of the stairs, remaining out of sight while observing as Rosemary answered the door.

And there he was. The gorgeous boy in black, with the platinum hair and icy blue eyes. Yep, she was smitten.

And as she slowly walked down the staircase to meet him, she could see in his eyes that he was smitten, too.


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Next up: Date night. Considering how nervous I am about writing it and getting it right, I wouldn't hold your breath for the next chapter before the weekend. Unless I get totally inspired and brilliant or something equally unlikely. The good news is that once I get through the next chapter, the next several are pretty smooth sailing for me writing-wise.

Hope you enjoyed this one, and please leave a review if you can. They leave me warm and tingly, which is a good way to feel when writing about a first date. All inspired-like.

Sara

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