Title: Unraveled

Author: Jeanny

Feedback: Please. jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Distribution: I don't mind, just credit me and let me know where it's going.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: General Season 6

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, Inc., UPN and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: A few years into the future, a vampire disguised as a psychiatrist comes to a hospital to see a delusional patient and solves a mystery. (BtVS/Angel Crossover)

****************

May 1, 2004

Plain manila folder, neatly typed label. He hadn't typed it. He was Ronald Solomon, renowned psychiatrist, after all; typing labels was certainly beneath him. A secretary whose name he didn't recall had typed the label some time ago; Solomon went through secretaries like tissue paper. He couldn't stop staring at it now. It was supposed to simply list the patient number and name. It wasn't right, the label. Not the way he liked them at all. Normally that would drive him up the wall; he speculated that it might have been why he fired that anonymous secretary. But in this case it seemed appropriate. This case should have an idiosyncratic label. Beneath the patient number were two names, one in parenthesis.

DOE, J. (SUMMERS, B.)

He stared at the label for a long time, as if it held the answer to the mystery he had been trying to unlock for two years. As if he could somehow come up with an answer in the few minutes he had left before the unthinkable happened. For the first time in his career, a patient was being taken out of Ronald Solomon's hands. A soft knock at the door signaled the end.

"Dr. Solomon?" The new doctor remained standing in the doorway until Solomon waved him in. Solomon appraised him with a practiced eye. He looked too young to have had much experience. Dark hair, darker eyes...not so much in color but in content. They were the eyes of a man who had seen a lot of suffering and had yet to find a full measure of peace. The eyes of a seeker, unusual in a young psychiatrist. Solomon was embarrassed to realize he had blanked on the new doctor's name. He stood to shake the younger man's hand, finding his handshake firm, dry and surprisingly cool.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor...?"

"Chase. William Chase," Angel lied smoothly. He knew his credentials under the false name would check out; Cordelia and Wesley had been reluctant but they were always thorough. Maintaining a cool disinterested façade was taking every ounce of control he had, knowing he was so close. For so long he had clung to the faintest hope that this day might be possible, that he might actually see her again. The doctor nodded, grunting, and slid a thick file across the desk towards him. The ground beneath him seemed to move as he read the label, then he gave Solomon a tentative smile which wasn't returned. Clearly Solomon was harboring resentments. He needed to win the man over to his side; there was so much he still needed to know about the situation he was walking in to.

"I was told I should brief you on current course of treatment," Solomon said. He was surprised when the new doctor shook his head, taking a seat.

"I'm sure the file is completely thorough, Dr. Solomon. I'm aware of your fine reputation in the field."

"Kind of you to say that, Dr. Chase. I'm sorry to say I'm not as aware of yours,” Solomon said haughtily. “Now, if you don't need anything else from me..." Solomon was standing up to go. He was surprised when the doctor waved him to stay seated. He was even more surprised when he complied.

"Actually, there is something, Dr. Solomon. If you wouldn't mind, could you just...tell me about this girl. Not the dry clinical stuff that's in here," he said, holding up the folder with a bit of a smirk. "Give me some history. How did she come to be here? What's she like?"

"I really don't see..." Dr. Solomon began, then trailed off. There was something in the young doctor's eyes, something ancient. Something that told him he wouldn't be leaving this office until Dr. Chase got what he wanted. "Fine. They brought her in nearly two years ago. No purse, no I.D., no answers. At first she was catatonic, completely unresponsive. She was a bit beat up, some bruising and such, but other than that she was in excellent shape. No sign of head trauma, nothing that could account for her state. We set about trying to find out who she was, got her picture on the news, but no one came for her. It was probably about a month before she just looked up one day and asked a nurse for a glass of water. Said her name was Buffy Summers and she lived in Sunnydale, California."

"But clearly you don't think she is," the vampire softly encouraged.

"I know she isn't," Solomon insisted arrogantly. "She claims that she is some kind of monster fighter, divinely ordained. A vampire slayer, she calls it. She claims she has superpowers, unnatural strength and agility, that sort of thing. She's given us remarkably detailed descriptions of the creatures she claims to have fought, as well as some kind of portal to Hell which supposedly exists in her hometown. I must admit, Dr. Chase, this Buffy persona the girl has taken on is one of the most fully unshakable delusions I have ever seen in my career, but it is a delusion. It has completely eclipsed her own identity. For two years I haven't been able to get her past it. Whatever happened to her to cause this break, whatever the root trauma was, it must have been extraordinary."

"Forgive me, Dr. Solomon, but I'm having a little trouble understanding why you're so sure the girl is not really Buffy Summers. Monster fighter, I‘ll grant you, but..."

"Simple, Dr. Chase. Buffy Summers is dead," Dr. Solomon reached out and took the file from the vampire's hand, he opened it and pulled two items out of a file pocket, dropping them unceremoniously on the desk as he named them. "Copy of Miss Summers' death certificate. Photograph of her gravestone." If Dr. Solomon noticed that the new doctor's fingers trembled slightly when he lightly touched the photograph, he didn't let on. "It took a lot of digging on my part. There've been a lot of disasters in Sunnydale, a lot of records destroyed. But as you can see, Buffy Summers died several years ago."

"I'm assuming you showed these to the patient," the man claiming to be William Chase asserted. At Solomon's nod he continued, "What did she say?"

"She claimed that she had come back from the dead," Solomon said. "She said that she had died saving the world and that she went to heaven. Then some friends of hers brought her back to earth. Sometimes she says that she's more than human, sometimes that she's less than, Dr. Chase. Sometimes she says she loves and misses her friends, other times she rails against them hysterically. She cries out for people in her sleep: her mother; someone named Giles; Dawn, whom she claims is her sister; there are others, their names are in the file. Strangest of all, sometimes she seems to be calling for an angel."

"An angel?" he asked, trying not to appear too interested. Solomon nodded thoughtfully.

"That's the one thing I haven't been able to get her to talk about, actually. It's very strange. She appears to be begging for forgiveness, but when I ask her about it she claims not to know what I'm talking about. The only time she reacted is when I thought she'd called the angel by a peculiar name. When I asked her about it, she denied knowing who it was, then abruptly turned violent. Actually punched a hole in my office wall. I told them not to use that cheap plaster. Surprised it doesn't happen more often."

"What name was it, Dr. Solomon?"

"Spike."

The pain in his heart was intense. For a moment Angel felt dizzy. The vampire had to fight to keep his expression neutral. When he had himself under control he continued.

"That's an unusual name for an angel."

"Yes, I'm still not sure I understood that right. It's clear that Spike is significant in some way, however."

"Could he be someone she remembers...a lover from her past?" the vampire rasped, his mouth dry. Solomon looked at him suspiciously.

"We can speculate all night, Dr. Chase. Why is it so important to you?"

"It's not," Angel answered quickly, continuing on, "one more question. You said that the girl became violent when you mentioned Spike? Does she become violent often?"

"We have her well-medicated, but yes, she has on occasion shown some violent tendencies. She's even escaped a few times, we're not entirely sure how. She's quite strong for her size."

"I'll bear that in mind," the faux Dr. Chase said wryly, getting to his feet. "I'd like to see the patient now." Solomon blinked at Angel in shock.

"Now? But...that's highly irregular, Doctor."

"I am aware,” Angel claimed. He was aware of nothing other than how close he was. The desire to reach across the desk and shake this arrogant fool was almost overwhelming. Instead he began speaking rapidly. “However, I have been very effective using unconventional methods, Dr. Solomon. After I see and speak to the patient, I'll know if I can be of help to her or not. From what you've described to me, I think I can cure her."

"Really?" Solomon said sarcastically as Angel stood, holding the file in what he hoped looked like a professional manner.

"Yes, and I'd like to begin immediately. Would you have someone show me to Miss Summ...excuse me, Miss Doe's room?” Angel winced at the slip, then fixed Solomon with a look of dismissal. “Thank you again for all your help."

"I really don't think..." Solomon began, then trailed off. There was that look on the young doctor's face again. The look that said that he wasn't accustomed to being questioned. The look that said it wasn't wise to do so. Solomon wasn't a man who was easily intimidated, and he rarely backed down on anything. But he decided quickly that protests weren't worth his time. Besides, "...she's your patient, Dr. Chase. I'll have the night orderly take you to her room."

It seemed like an eternity before he was finally standing in front of her door. Taking a deep unneeded breath, he entered the room. It was as antiseptic and white as he had anticipated, except for the walls, which were painted a cheerful light yellow. She was lying with her back to him, shrouded in so much darkness he couldn’t really see her. But he could tell by the tension in her back she knew he was there. And what he was.

She threw off the covers and regained her feet in one motion. Quick and graceful as a cat she was standing before him. He froze, trying to regain control of his emotions, now spiraling out of control. She wasn't at all what he was expecting. She looked smaller than he remembered, more frail and delicate. Adding to that impression was her hair, cut short in a pixie cut that made her eyes look impossibly big. She looked for all the world like a lost fairy or elf. Her mouth was working uncertainly, her green eyes filling with tears of recognition as she clearly tried to decide if he was real or an illusion.

"Oh my God," she whispered shakily. "Oh my God, it's really you. You found me..." She ran to him sobbing and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest like a child. "You found me."

"Shhhh. It's okay," he soothed, feeling oddly detached as he patted her back like she was a child. What was happening was so different than the way he had imagined it. He knew what he wanted to do, but he needed answers first. After a few moments she separated from his embrace and looked up at him, grinning through her tears.

"You found me. How did you find me?" she whispered wonderingly. Her grin faded when he just stared back at her. After a moment her hands flew to her hair, tugging on it self-consciously. "I know, I look different. Do I look bad? I look bad, don't I? They won't let me have a mirror; I think they're afraid I might break it and use the glass to...oh God, the look on your face. I'm repulsive." She sank back onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. He suddenly snapped out of his stupor.

"No, no you're not repulsive. It's just...I'm surprised, is all," he said, choosing his words carefully. She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. He would have once thought that impossible.

"I'm not the Buffy you knew," she said. He was uncertain if it was a statement and a question, so he treated it as the latter.

"No, I know you're not." He took a seat next to her on her small hospital bed and took her hand gently. "Can you tell me what happened? How you got here?"

"You mean what happened to me? And to the others?" she asked flatly, her eyes haunted. He nodded, and she took a deep breath.

"I still can't believe she could do what she did. Sometimes I think I dreamed the whole thing and I'm going to wake up in my own bed, you know?"

"Just tell me," he insisted, the pain in his voice mirroring her own. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"It was Willow," she moaned. "My best friend, Angel. My best friend in all the world tried to kill me."

"How?" he asked harshly.

"She was crazy. Black magic, we all tried to warn her but she was just out of control. Tara and Xander and Anya and I, we tried to stage an in...intervention. Oh God...if I had only known."

"If you had only known what?"

"She got so angry with us, so angry...she said none of us cared about her, that everything had gone wrong since Glory...if only Glory had never come to Sunnydale. She was obsessed over it."

"But you...Willow said you defeated Glory," Angel frowned, remembering that horrible day when the redhead had come to tell him Buffy was dead. He felt like he was drowning.

"I know. We did," she conceded, struggling to make her point. "The world was still different. Because..." She trailed off, running her fingers through her short hair, clearly agitated by the memory.

"Different? I don't understand," he said.

"Because of Dawn."

"Because she wasn't real," Angel mused aloud. The slap caught him off-guard. He blinked at her in shock, seeing her green eyes flash with anger.

"Don't ever say that! She was real. She was my sister, and I...just don't ever say she wasn't real. That was what Willow said. Willow...she just wasn't right in the end, you know. I think all that dark magic had screwed up her brain until she thought it was okay to play God, or goddess, or whatever. She brought me back from the dead just to make me watch her..."

"You hate her," Angel realized.

"Yes. God help me, I do," she said, biting her lower lip, searching his eyes for something. Forgiveness? Love? Angel wondered what she saw there. He touched her lightly on the shoulder, giving her arm an encouraging squeeze.

"It's understandable...just tell me the rest of it. Willow was trying to hurt Dawn," he prompted. She nodded slowly, clearly dreading the rest of her story.

"She got Dawn away from us. I still thought I could reason with her, but she used some kind of spell. I was frozen, I couldn't move...I had to watch."

"Watch what?" he asked as her face crumbled again.

"I h-had to w-watch her k-kill them. All of them. Not just Dawnie, but Anya and Xander and Tara. Giles was still in England, but I know he was trying to stop her. I think she killed him too. Oh God, Angel..." She broke down completely, and all he could do was hold her. His mind was reeling with what she was telling him. He had expected as much, but to actually hear from her lips was unreal.

"It's over. It's all over...Shhh. I'm here now...Buffy..." She pulled away again, wiping the fresh tears away, managing a trembling smile.

"I know. It's like a miracle, and I keep crying all over you,” she said with a shaky laugh. “It's just been so long, I'd given up hope you'd ever find me."

"I never stopped looking," Angel said sincerely. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her encouragingly. "I know this is really hard, but I need you to go on. I still don't understand why."

"Why?" she repeated dully. Angel almost shivered as the question came out of his mouth.

"Why would Willow kill all her friends?" he asked intensely. She blinked then chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"You know, I don't think she actually meant to kill anyone but Dawn. And she didn't exactly mean to kill Dawn, she meant to make her never have existed, so that no one would remember her at all. I think whatever magic she used on me somehow effected the other spell she was trying to perform and the whole thing went to hell. Literally." She shuddered at the memory. "I'll never forget the sound of them screaming. I hear it every night."

"What happened next?"

"Spike. He tried to save us...or at least he tried to save me,” she said, suddenly unable to meet his eyes, her voice getting so soft anyone other than a vampire would have had to strain to hear. “Spike and I...we...ummm...we were involved for a few months before. Physically.” She paused for a second then went on, her voice stronger. “He attacked Willow, but she was human and he couldn’t...she dusted him." Angel knew it was dangerous to pull her off topic, but the question popped out before he could stop himself.

"The thing with Spike...was it love?"

"I...I had feelings for Spike. It was complicated. I even kept it a secret from everybody at first, but it came out and no one was really happy about it but it was there and it was real so they had to accept it. It hurts, knowing he died because of me. But no, I never really loved him."

"He knew that?"

"He accepted it. It was hard. At first I treated him horribly because I was so mad at myself for wanting to be with him. Ironically, Willow helped me come to terms with it. We talked about Spike a lot, you know, once the truth was out, but then she...God, if only she'd stopped. She promised she'd stop."

"What happened after she staked Spike?" Angel asked, needing to know the end of it. She looked at him blankly.

"I'm not...I don't really remember...I don't remember anything else after that until I woke up here."

"What happened to Willow?" he asked harshly. She blinked at him for a few moments before nodding.

"Willow's dead," she said with utter conviction. He frowned at her. “I killed her.”

"You killed her?"

"Yes."

"You remember killing her?"

"I...yes...yes, I remember now. She was looking at me...begging me...I told her I had no choice, that I was sorry...and then I..." she flung her hands out in pushing gesture as she stumbled over the words, "I watched her fall. She was dead. I know what dead looks like."

"And then what happened?"

"That's it. There's nothing else there," she said, standing up and starting to pace. He saw she was rubbing her arms vigorously as if she could rub off the bad memories.

"Okay," he said standing up himself.

"So now what?" she asked. "How are you going to break me out of here?"

He stood up, steeling himself for what was coming. He knew what he was going to do, but he was surprised it was so hard.

"I'm not."

She shook her head, confused.

“What?”

“The people here can help you. You’re not ready to leave yet. Maybe someday...I can’t believe I’m even thinking this...I was so ready to...I’m sorry. Just know that. I’m really sorry. About everything.”

“Angel, no! I don‘t understand!” she cried as he strode quickly to the door, wrenching it open. He turned back to her for just a moment, memorizing the stricken look on her face, knowing it would haunt him in dreams.

“These people can help you. Let them,” he said quickly before shutting the door behind him with a finality that thudded in his unbeating heart. He heard her pounding on the door a split second later. He could hear her screams through the door as he leaned against it, sighing.

“Angel! Don’t leave me! Angel! Please come back! Please!” she cried, over and over. Angel straightened, striding down the hall to find Solomon. He would tell the doctor he couldn’t help his patient. He would drop some hints on how to help the girl, though. It surprised him that he wanted to help her, but somehow he knew that’s what Buffy would have wanted. At the end of the hall he turned back for one moment, just that short distance traveled leaving him feeling strangely at peace. He could go back to Cordy now. He could rebuild his unlife with her. It was truly over.

“Goodbye, Willow.”

****************