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05/18/17 04:16 am
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Ch. 2 Dear Diary (1st)

Monday. July 11th 2005.

Journal of Buffy Anne Summers.

First Entry. Entry the first. Lesson One. How it Began. Or something like that. My very first journal – I’m all kinds of scared. This is almost like the first day of school, but it’s different, you know? It’s the first time I try to psycho-analyze my mind and that’s a hell lot more complicated than your every day calculus. I kinda don’t know how to start.

Funny, everyone thinks I’m suffering Post-Abortion Depression. You men in tweed are just so meticulous and neat and precise, it makes me sick. But don’t worry, I’m over it. If you feel the need to prescribe and name something for every wrong in the world, go for it.

So… what to write, what to write? I’m at a loss, Mr. Rupert Giles. You’re my doctor aren’t you? My counselor, my watch guard, my one-who-makes-sure-crazy-girl-doesn’t-kill-herself? You tell me what to write.

End of Entry.

Ch. 3 Dear Diary (2nd)

Tuesday. July 12th 2005

Second entry.

Now you want to know how everything began. That’s understandable. What’s a good story without the beginning, right? So, the first day I met Dr. William T. Pratt, the most beautiful man in the world. It was one hundred and three days ago from today when I stepped into his office for the first time …

Wednesday. April 1st 2005.

Bump. I hadn’t even seen the curb coming before I collided into it. Bump, the tires jumped. Bump, the car tilted. Bump, my face hit the steering wheel. I was in shock. Really. Like complete, visible, utter shock. Shit. shit. shit. Who the hell put the curb over there?

You couldn’t really blame me, since the curb pretty much jumped out of nowhere. Plus, the sky was all gray and threatening; less than perfect driving conditions. Also, I had just come out of my cheerleading practice that was out in the muddy football field that was still dripping wet from the storm the night before– gross, much? I was still feeling disgusting, gross, sweaty, and stinky since I didn’t have time to take a quick shower after practice.

I blame it on the stupid doctor’s appointment – a stupid little checkup. An evil checkup… a checkup of evil. Luckily enough, I didn’t see any visible damage to the side of my car so it was no big. What mom didn’t know, I didn’t have to tell her.

I remember looking up at the overcast sky and running as fast as I could through the parking lot and into the doctor’s office. It was already starting to drizzle and I was more than freezing in nothing but a T-shirt and practice shorts.

Did I mention how much I hate doctor’s offices? It’s a good thing I never get sick. The smell of the building is just enough to make me want to vomit – can’t little kids ever keep their insides to themselves? Not so much. I stepped into the waiting room the second some five year old loony threw up all over the colorful plastic chairs. Ugh, gross.

“I’m here for my appointment,” I told the blonde woman behind the counter. Her nametag said ‘Harmony’ and her blank eyes said ‘brainless bimbo’. It was pretty interesting, really, I have a weird fascination for stupid people. Sometimes I really wonder what goes on in their lack of brain. The bimbo blinked at me and asked me if I was here for my appointment.

“Do you have an appointment?” Those were her exact words. See? Point proven.

“Yes, I do.” I was the picture of kindness and compassion. It was difficult, but I managed to hold back the urge to roll my eyes and ask for another receptionist.

I filled out all the forms on the clipboard she handed to me.

Name? Buffy Summers. Age? 17. Sex? Yes, please.

I love filling out forms.

Another reason why I hate doctor offices is the wait. It doesn’t matter if you’re early, on time, or late for your appointment – you always have to wait forever. I was late, but it wouldn’t have made a difference.

The waiting rooms are the worst. I tried to sit as far away as possible from the kid who had vomited, but the smell of medicine, cleaners, and antiseptics were really overwhelming and I wanted to pinch my nose.

I waited an entire half an hour before a nurse finally called out my name.

“Buffy Summers?”

That’s me and I follow her through the door into the doctor’s area. I was all about to call her nice until she opened her mouth and started talking.

“So are you all paid up for this appointment? Dr. Pratt tells me I have to make sure that everybody has all their money and I get a percent of all the patients that he sees so I have to make sure every penny is there. Is every penny there?”

Goodbye courtesy, hello greedy bitch. But I smiled and told her Yes, I’m all paid up, you’ll get your money, thanks. She nodded at me then started talking rapidly.

“That’s good, I’ll set you up in that room down there and Dr. Pratt will see you in a few minutes. You’ll like Dr. Pratt, I promise. You might even want him to have sex with you on the table but that’s not allowed. He might you a few orgasms, but it would make a mess and it takes a lot of money to clean these days – “

I didn’t have a clue what ‘Anya’ – her nametag said – was talking about and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know. So, of course, all I did was nod and smile.

Did I tell you that the waiting never stops at the waiting room? Well, it’s true. Once you’re in your little room thing, you have to sit on that table recliner thingie until the doctor’s ready for you and that always takes another ten hours. ‘Anya’ left me alone to wait for the doctor and told me to be sitting on the examination table until he came to check up on me. Or check me up. Something like that.

I hated the examination table; it always had a sheet over it and when you jumped on it, the sheet would always rip and tear whenever you moved. Really annoying if you ask me.

Well, I was never one for waiting and after a minute or two passed, I was getting bored. Luckily enough, there was little bookshelf on the table by the sink and I thought I’d have fun entertaining myself with little kid’s books.

Wow. Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, Lady and the Tramp, Bambi,… who would have thought? Someone here was a Disney freak. Of course, you can’t just explore a bookshelf without exploring the rest of the examination room, could you? The books were nice and all, but something else had caught my attention and I abandoned ‘Beauty and the Beast’ as quickly as I had picked it up.

There was a picture on the wall that caught my attention. 18 inches by 12 inches, framed in gold, and three yummy-looking men smiling at the camera. Damn. So you can see why it caught my attention, right? The man on the left was in a blue and white striped polo and loose, khaki pants. He was tall and just a little bulky with plain brown hair brushed to the side and warm brown eyes. Football player? Check. Mama’s boy? Double check… Moving on.

The man next to him was a little bit shorter and a little less bulky. He had dark, brown hair spiked up towards the center, a prominent forehead, dark irises that seemed deep in thought, and a half-smile didn’t reach his eyes. Gorgeous was the word for him. I shifted my attention to the man next to him and boy, did he have my attention.

If Mr. Broody was gorgeous, this man was the god of perfect. His hair was bleached and slicked back and his eyes were all sorts of blue. His lips were turned up in a cocky smile; he seemed to be saying “I’m mouth-watering hot and I know it”. He wore all black and was leaning on his left foot and had both his thumbs hooked under his belt-loops. I remember staring at his perfection for at least five minutes, studying the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the muscles that rippled under his tight black –

“See something you like, love?”

Oh, screw the picture… whoever just talked to me in that sexy British accent was definitely something… So I whirled around to see who the owner of the voice was and came face to face with …

A god.

Blonde hair, scar over an eyebrow, playful eyes, pointed nose, smug grin, white coat over a black shirt, clipboard in hands, black jeans tight, Doc Martins untied…

There he was, the man in the picture, standing there in all his glory. And all I could do was drop my jaw and drool. Unappealing, ugh, I know. I tried to say something, I really did, but it’s hard to think up something to say when you’re trying to look at two things at once and trying to not look like an idiotic buffoon all at the same time.

“Y-you’re… you.. “ I stammered and pointed a shaky finger at the picture while staring at him.

“Found my photograph, did you?” He smirked at me all knowing-like and I think my knees melted because I felt wobbly. Was this what it was like to swoon?

Oh man, he was getting closer to me. I saw his nametag… Dr. Pratt. Oh, Doctor… check up on me, please. Suddenly, ‘Anya’ wasn’t so crazy anymore and sex on the examination table didn’t seem like such a stupid idea anymore - uncomfortable, torn up, white paper sheet and all.

He set his clipboard on the table and walked up to stand by the photograph, keeping his eyes on me the entire time. His smirk never left his face as he gave me the once-over. Never before in my life had I felt so naked and I still remember how my entire body tingled and burnt up at his blatant perusal – my neck, my chest, my stomach, my groin, my legs, right down to the little toe.

“This one was taken in Hawaii,” he told me, nodding at the hanging picture. His blue eyes twinkled, I guess it was a good memory. “Ever been to Hawaii, love?”

I didn’t really hear his question, I was too busy staring at his razor-sharp cheekbones and admiring his bone structure. Very good bones, indeed.

“Uh… no, um, I’ve never been.”

“You’d love it. Bloody gorgeous is what it is,” he smiled, his attention still on the photograph. “Monster waves, miles and miles of sand, beautiful clubs with beautiful girls in them, restaurants, sunsets, all that rot. It’s like an all you can eat buffet of fun at that.” He finally turned to me and raised an eyebrow, “Ready for your checkup then, pet?”

It must have been a miracle that I was able to fully function after hearing his description of Hawaii. I’d most definitely be traveling there in the near future.

“Yep, all ready to be checked up on! I’m check-up Buffy!” God, he must think I’m some dense little girl.

All he did was smile and gesture towards the examination table then he turned around to get some supplies. I remember pushing up on my arms to prop myself onto the table and looking around the room nervously like a young girl with a crush. After a few seconds, I settled for staring between his shoulder blades as he was collecting his stethoscope, his thermometer, and a bunch of other things … I didn’t know the names. I loved the way he moved, full of assurance … he oozed out catlike grace and stealthy power. I thought I could have spent hours just watching the way his muscles twitched beneath that white doctor’s coat…

Finally, he turned around and gave me a blinding smile as he stalked towards me like a predator going for its prey.

Just your doctor, Buffy. Just the doctor… must not think bad things about doctor. Bad, bad Buffy.

But, God help me, I was losing myself in his blue, blue eyes.

“Open wide, Buffy,” he instructed me, holding up a thin black light. All I could think about was ‘he knows my name!’… but then again, it was probably on that sheet that he carried in…

I opened wide for him. It always made me uncomfortable to do that around doctors… where do you put your tongue? If it just lies flat, you start salivating and become all disgusting and drooling, but if you move it around… Lets just say it was so nerve-racking that I was nearly sweating.

He leaned forward and shined the light in my mouth… I hope I don’t have bad breath. Maybe I should have accepted that stick of gum Cordy had offered me after practice. After a few seconds, he told me to move my tongue to the right… then to the left… then he was done.

The next few minutes, he did what every normal doctors do… shined the light in each eye, shined it in my ears, knocked my knees with that heavy thing a few times. And each minute that passed, I was more and more turned on. I felt sick at myself for having such thoughts… for my doctor, no less.

He wrote some things down on the clipboard then reached out for his stethoscope.

“Lets listen to your heart tick and tock, Goldilocks.”

I was sure my heart started beating faster after he said that, I could feel the pounding of blood pulsating through my brain.

Dr. Pratt gave me a little smile and reached his hand out to peel the hem of my sweaty shirt away from my skin. My breath hitched and breathing became an issue as he continued looking into my eyes while he slid the stethoscope up under my shirt.

The cool metal on my hot skin made me break out in goosebumps and there was no way my hardening nipples didn’t poke through my thin sports bra and t-shirt. I was semi-relieved that he didn’t look down and see the evidence of… Ohh… the metal was slowly crawling up my skin, feeling like smooth ice.

I gasped and he smiled, quirking an eyebrow. He placed the stethoscope over my chest and when I felt the back of his strong, warm hand grazing over my sports-bra covered breast, I shivered again.

I licked my dry lips and forced my eyes away from his.

After what seemed like forever, he finally slid his hand out of my shirt and took the stethoscope out of his ears. I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or upset at the loss of his hand on my bare skin.

“Good, now get off and bend over.”


I didn’t understand. What??!!. He shot me a look and said two word that made my nerves explode and my heart stop beating.

“Scoliosis test.”

Oh. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t disappointed. If he had said something like ‘naughty sex’, I probably would have complied.

“Oh… yeah. Okay.”

I hopped off the table and bent forward. He placed himself behind me and lifted my shirt up until it went over my shoulders and my arms were hanging like a loose puppet. Then, he placed both of his hands on my lower back.

Electricity shot through my spine and my body went out of control. One simple touch and I felt like a madwoman. His hands kneaded skillfully over my spinal cord and slowly made their way up. Did every doctor’s checkup seem so … sensual?

After he made sure I didn’t have scoliosis, he told me I could stand up.

“Everything’s all checked up and you’re up and ready to go, pet.”


I was up and running out of the small room as fast as my legs which were still not functioning correctly could carry me. When I was past the door, I was hit with a waft of cool air and I sighed in relief, partially happy to be out of the room. It was too hot with tension and I wanted to get out of there before I made even more of a fool out of myself. I was halfway down the hall when a voice stopped me.


I turned around and saw Dr. Pratt. When our eyes connected, I could almost see the blue of the electric shock. He began to walk towards me briskly and as he closed the distance between us, my heart pounded faster and faster…

“Please bring this to the lady at the front desk.”

Shot down. I numbly took the clipboard that he had handed to me.

Surprised and disappointed, I watched his retreating back as he turned around and sauntered away.


So that’s that, Giles and company of men in tweed. How I met Dr. Pratt. A little embarrassing and a lot sorry, isn’t it? I can’t wait for your next assignment.

Do you think I’m cured of all suicidal tendency, yet?

Or maybe another journal entry or two…

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