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Not Insane

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This story is No. 1 in the series "Odd Ones Out". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: They said she was insane. She was starting to believe it. He was the only one that could show her that they were wrong.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Dr. Who/Torchwood > Buffy-Centered > Pairing: The DoctorSabrynaFR712,3994111,6507 Sep 117 Sep 11Yes
Here is the thing: I saw the plot bunny and the image in the great Fanarts The Worlds She Never Walked (http://www.tthfanfic.org/Story-24255-16/cloudleonsgurl+The+Worlds+She+Never+Walked.htm) and couldn't stop thinking about it. So, I finally gave it a try and I have a short serie of five or six ficlets in mind. Here is the first one. I'm really sorry about the mistakes made and if anyone feels up to betareading, I'll gladly accept their help! (Being French and all, it's not easy to correctly proof-read my own text.)

You can find the art here: look at what is done, it's amazing !

Edit : And now, I have a wonderful beta: isugirl.

Illustration


They said she was insane, that she had imagined things to get attention. They blamed her parents, not out loud of course. But they said their constant yelling and fighting, added to the pressure of high school and their indifference to her whereabouts, had pushed her to seek more attention and she had created a world of her own. She had wanted it so badly, wanted to always be more special, that she had persuaded herself that she was a super-heroin, the only girl in the world able to save Earth. They said it was all in her mind, that she wasn't the Slayer, that vampires and demons didn't exist, that she had even imagined Merrick. For them, she had done that in the hope that she would be noticed but the fantasy had gotten out of control and now she was a danger to herself and others. She was a killer because she had burnt down her high school gym in a fit of hysterics during which she had thought that vampires had attacked her peers and there had been victims.

She began to rock back and forth as she felt the tears run down her cheeks. She had fought the nurses, refusing to follow them, yelling at her parents that she wasn't crazy, pleading for them to believe her, to have faith in her. They had just watched her being taken away in an asylum, sadness and shame in their eyes. But she wasn't crazy, so she had fought back, refusing to go in a place she didn't belong. She had broken a few bones and, even if they were amazed by her strength, they had attributed it to a shot of adrenaline caused by the stressed environment. In the end, whatever they had injected her with had put her out and when she had woken up, she had been in this cell with a straight jacket.

The first time she had seen the psychiatrist, she had told him everything, telling him that she could prove what she was saying, he just had to come with her to a cemetery at night and she would prove to them all. Nevertheless, he had looked down at her and she had almost heard the "Poor girl" coming out of his mouth. He had asked questions and she had answered again and again as he interrogated her to find a weak point in her disillusion. He never found it, of course, and she decided to shut up. Now, she just sat in his office, mouth shut, and her eyes staring into the distance.

No one believed her. She was alone.

Could she blame them? What she was saying was so surrealistic! Vampires and demons? Her, the blond cheerleader, a saviour? What a joke!

The time seemed longer in here and the solitude was almost unbearable. And as days passed, she found herself beginning to doubt. What if they were right? She had no proof and she was alone against all of them. Could they all ignore the truth? Maybe, just maybe, she could be wrong. What if they were right? What if she was sick? Would it be that bad? It would mean that she wouldn't have to fight every night, that her life wouldn't have to be dedicated to a war she was sure to lose. She could live longer than eighteen, have a family, a job, a life! Would it be so terrible to not have the weight of the world on her shoulders?

And the decision was made. Next time, she would take the pills without a fight and she would try to forget about the Slayer. She was going to try to remember who she was and come back to the real world.

She shook her head, whispering, "I'm Buffy Summers. I'm not the Slayer, I'm just Buffy. The Slayer doesn't exist."

"You are so much more than ‘just Buffy’”

She froze and looked up, the world spinning around at the sudden gesture from all the drugs she had in her system. She stared blankly at the blue police box, too colourful in the middle of her all-white cell. They were right. She was insane. How else could there be a man standing outside a blue police box in the middle of her room? He was tall, lean, and had trouble keeping his dark hair in check. He had a pointy face that could have been unattractive, but, strangely, he was kind of handsome. For a hallucination anyway.

He sighed and pushed away from the door. He walked to her and kneeled down. He grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look at him. She whimpered as she saw his eyes. She had never seen such eyes. They were old and wise and they were full of sadness, kindness, and pity. But there was something else, a fury, that instead of frightening her, broke her heart even more because she knew that it wasn’t against her that he was so mad, it was with the one who put her here in this state. He grabbed her elbows and helped her to her feet. She let him help her out of the straight jacket.

The world was spinning around her and she grabbed him. His mouth was suddenly against her ear as he whispered, “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

She followed him, not sure what to think. Was it a hallucination? Was she really that insane? She looked anxiously at the door but the strange man reassured her.

“Don’t worry. It will only be a couple of seconds for them.”

She wondered how it was possible, how a dream could look so real. Her mind was so fogged that she couldn’t think clearly. She stepped inside the strange blue box and it took her breath away. Under her feet, she could feel the ... thing ... it hummed, felt warm and reassuring. She sat on the stairs of the small platform and watched as the stranger closed the door and went back to the central consol. He was talking so fast that she couldn’t keep up with him and her eyes were closing, her lids feeling so heavy. She hadn’t felt safe for such a long time and her body was finally able to fully relax. The last thing she remembered was the man smiling at her, “Sleep, Slayer. We have time.”

¤

When she woke up, she was in the bed of a small room. There was no light but she had no trouble seeing. The last couple of weeks came back to her with vivid accuracy as her mind was finally cleared from the drugs. Was she still hallucinating? Could it last so long? She sat up and pushed the covers away. Where was she? She was wearing the red pants and white T-Shirt from the hospital and was barefoot. She walked through a corridor, guided by her instincts. It was like something was pushing her in the right direction.

She emerged in the central room, the one she entered in the first time. The strange man was there, pushing and pulling things on the consol. Everything shook and she grabbed the hand rail as the stranger said, “Great! You’re just in time. We’re here.”

It was still now and he was by the door. He disappeared outside and she followed him, feeling strangely detached. The whole situation was even more insane than her thinking she was a vampire hunter. Who was that man? Where did he come from? And what the Hell was this blue police box?!

She stepped outside carefully and froze at what she saw. She was in a gigantic round room. The floor was marble and gigantic columns were forming a circle. In the middle, just in front of her, there was a statue of a woman as tall as her. It looked like those ancient Greek statues you saw in museums. But this woman was clad in modern clothes. She was wearing pants that looked like jeans, high-heeled boots, and a little top under a leather jacket. In her hands, she was holding a giant and strange axe. The girl was exuding confidence and charisma.

"Why don't you come closer?"

She didn't remove her eyes from the statue and she felt her legs move on their own accord. She saw the face clearly and gasped, "How…? Is that…?"

"You? Yes, it is. Well, not you you, but future you."

She stared at the statue's face, her face. She looked older, her features were thinner and there was a wild and proud expression on her face. This version of her was strong, like nothing could scare her or bring her down. She looked around and saw weapons, books and pictures. She tried to get closer to see them clearly, but the man was suddenly blocking the way.

"Sorry, can't let you do that."

"Why?"

"Because you'd see things that haven't happened yet and it would mess up the timeline."

She frowned, completely lost.

"I don't understand. Who are you and where are we?"

"In a museum. But when is more interesting. And the answer is 2108."

Her eyes went wide at his answer. Was he saying that they were in 2108? That wasn't possible! It was more than a century into the future. Was it another hallucination? Maybe she was still dreaming…

He let out a frustrated sigh, "Why can't you just believe me?"

"It's not that I don't believe you but I am locked up in an asylum…"

He made a face, "You got a point. Rest assured, you are not hallucinating all of this, neither are you imagining the existence of vampires or demons. You are the current Slayer. We just travelled a little forward because I wanted to show you this."

He went beside the statue, "You don't know it yet but you're important and stronger than you think. You'll do so many great things! Don't let them win."

And then he was there, cupping her face between his hands, "You are going to be brilliant Buffy Summers! People are going to make statues of you and they'll talk about you for centuries. You are a legend in the making.”

“Why? What am I going to do for all this to happen?"

"I can't tell you that. You'll have to discover it on your own. I’m only here to show you this and to tell you to keep fighting. Don't believe them, follow your gut, because you, my sweet girl, are one of a kind."

She was smiling now and tears were rolling down her cheeks. He believed her and the words he said to her were warming her. She didn't know where she was, who he was, but she was feeling safer and more loved than she had felt in months. She looked over his shoulders at the statue of herself. She looked like an Amazon ready to conquer the world and she could feel it inside of her. She was strong.

"Good!" the man exclaimed, letting her go. "Let's go back."

Panic surged through her at his words and what they meant. "What am I supposed to do?"

He shrugged, "You'll figure it out."

"Can't you help me?" Her tone was desperate now.

"I just did."

"But I'm still locked up in an asylum!"

"You'll get out."

"How?"

"You're smart."

"You're frustrating!"

"You already told me that. More than once actually."

"What?"

She was frowning, trying to remember when she had told him he was frustrating. The more she was thought about it the more she was sure that she had never told him that. He took the opportunity to push her inside the blue police blue box. He was playing with the central consol when she joined him.

"I never told you that."

"Told me what?"

"That you are frustrating."

"You did. Not you you, but you did."

"I…don't understand. You're confusing me."

He grinned at her, pushed something, and the whole room shook.

"Time travel is confusing sometimes. You have to wait and see!"

She grinned at the prospect of seeing him again, because that was what he was implying, right? He took her back to her cell and helped her put her straight jacket on. It wasn't annoying her this time because she knew she was getting out. She looked at him one more time.

"Tell me again."

He smiled kindly, "You are going to be brilliant."

"Thank you."

He went back inside his blue box and he was ready to close the door when she called after him.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"And what is that box?"

He grinned and answered, "And tell you all my secrets at once? You’ll have to be patient."

He made a quick bow and disappeared inside. Strange music filled the air and the box started to fade away until it was completely gone. She went back to her corner with a smile on her face. She sat down and waited for the nurse to come and accompany her to the psychiatrist. She would give him the answers he wanted, act like a girl who slowly realized that she had a problem. She would play them until they released her and she would lie to her parents. She would keep quiet and never confess what she was. Her Watcher was dead so maybe she could have a couple of months free of her duty. She didn’t know exactly how it was going to happen or what was going to happen next, but she was sure of one thing: she wasn’t insane, she was not just Buffy Summers.

She was Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.

The End

You have reached the end of "Not Insane". This story is complete.

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