Disclaimer: Both House and Buffy belong to people who aren't me.
"You don't want a diagnosis." House told the young woman whose name he had already forgotten. "You want somebody to look under the bed and tell you there are no monsters." She looked like she was about to object but House cut her off. "My first problem with that is, I've got a bum leg, I get down at the floor like that I'm going to be feeling it for days. And that's with Vicodin." She gave him her best innocent doe eyes, but House wasn't fooled. "The second problem is that there really are monsters under the bed. I know, you come to a hospital, you expect us to reinforce your flimsy cover story. After all, we're all scientists here, well, so long as you're not asking scientists, there's no way we believe in all that hocus pocus. For the most part, we don't. With good reason, too, after all it doesn't fit into the natural order of things." He paused to poke the wound some more. The girl suppressed a flinch. "Unfortunately, when you have irrefutable evidence, you can either accept it and all its implications, or refute it anyway. Most people choose the latter. They lie to themselves, and cling to the first quasi-reasonable explanation that shows itself. Even if that gets them killed. That's where you are, by the way. So, you can embrace the lie and let yourself die, or, you could choose the truth which will make your life more complicated and likely longer. Before you decide, you have to ask yourself 'Am I ready to be strong?'"