Rating: R for violence
Pairing: None this part
Summary: Willow stops in to see her mother and gets an unpleasant surprise.
Spoilers: Series begins just after ‘Lover’s Walk’, now a couple of years have passed, and we’re part way through season six.
Disclaimer: I did not build the Buffyverse that would be Joss, it is merely my playground.
Distribution: If you want it, fine by me, just drop me a line first.
Special Thanks: Kat for checking over my ramblings, Aden for always being happy to see me, and all the super cool people who send me feedback!
Feedback: Pretty please with sugar on top!
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Willow woke early; the double bed really wasn’t large enough for the three of them, plus the time change was throwing her off. She sighed, pushing Drusilla’s cold hand off her face and pulled herself out of bed, careful to not knock Miss Edith off the nightstand. She thought about having a shower to help wake her up, but decided against it. She had had both a shower and a bath the night before, and didn’t want to dry out her skin. Willow pulled on her clothes from the night before, having forgotten to bring her bag inside, and then did her best to comb out her hair with her fingers. It was starting to get long again, coming just past her shoulders. Maybe she should get it cut, she thought, but not today. Today she was going to see her mother.
Just thinking about it was putting her stomach in knots. She didn’t feel remorse over what she had done to the woman. Sheila Rosenberg had gotten what she deserved. What bothered Willow was the thought of being in that place, even for an hour. Part of her was afraid they would realize who and what she was, and they would lock her up again. The redhead took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She needed to do this, needed to know that her mother and the others were being treated right, although she doubted anyplace could be worse than Marion.
Before heading out, she fished the car keys out of Angelus’ coat pocket, and pulled the blankets well over the pair of vampires so they wouldn’t catch any rays of sun when she opened the door. Then she was off to check things out at the Greeley Center for Mental Health.
Willow had stopped off on the way to the center for a strong cup of coffee and directions. By the time she found the place it was almost noon. She sat in the car, just looking at it. Already it looked like a better place than she had been in. There was what appeared to be some sort of gardens buried under the snow, with benches scattered around. The building itself looked less like a hospital and more like an overgrown Victorian style home with three stories and a screened in porch. Together with the bright yellow paint and green shutters, it had a very inviting look about it. Nothing to indicate the groups of crazy people housed within.
After taking a few calming breaths, she headed up to the front door, and rang the bell. Moments later a kindly looking woman with short grey hair and glasses answered the door and ushered her in with a smile. Willow explained that she had come to see her mother, and the woman directed her to the main office so she could meet with the psychiatrist on duty first. The redhead waited quietly for the doctor, but the whole time she couldn’t help but shift around uncomfortably. This place was so much better than Marion. There was comfortable furniture in the various rooms she had caught a glimpse of. It was warm and dry and clean, and she couldn’t hear anyone crying or screaming. Patients passed by the waiting room periodically, some with a staff member, but most without. There were even several faces she recognized from her days in Marion.
“Ms. Rosenberg?”
Willow was drawn from her thoughts by a woman in a red business suit, with long dark hair and soft features. ‘Pretty,’ she thought, but there was something in her eyes, a coldness maybe. Detachment. It was as if she didn’t want to risk getting close to the patients or anyone else for fear of losing her objectivity. Willow extended a hand to her, and discovered that her handshake was like her eyes, cold and professional. The redhead wasn’t sure if she liked this woman, and swallowed down a lump in her throat as she gave her a smile and a nod. She was here to see her mother; she had no reason to fear this shrink. She was a powerful witch and they couldn’t force her to stay here, even if they wanted to.
“I’m Dr. Webber,” the woman said, arching an eyebrow at Willow’s obvious discomfort. She had heard about Willow Rosenberg, in fact she had read Dr. Scholten’s files on her. For a short while she was thought to be dead when she had gone missing from Marion, but when no body was found, the police began to wonder. Dr. Webber had even inquired about the girl, when Ira Rosenberg had come in to see his wife, but he had little to say on the matter. He assumed she was dead, or had fallen back in with her ‘devil worshipping’ friends. Either way, she had never been court ordered to receive treatment, and now that she was over eighteen, she was free to make her own choices on the matter. Nonetheless, the good doctor planned to keep a very close eye on this woman while she was in her facility.
She directed Willow into a very small office, which had probably started life as a pantry. However, it was now packed tight with filing cabinets, a small desk with an old swivel chair, and a second, less comfortable, chair in which Willow was now sitting.
“So, Ms. Rosenberg, what brings you to our happy little facility?”
“I’m here to see my mother.”
“Of course you are. I assume your father informed you she was here?”
“My father? That’s right…um he said she was here,” Willow mentally cursed herself. You’d think after everything she had done she would be able to lie a little better. “How is she?”
“Well, I’m sure your father probably informed you that your mother is in a constant delusionary state. My colleague, Dr. Andersen, and I have run several tests, and can find no organic cause for her condition. There has been no traumatic brain injury, no chemical imbalance. It seems that she has simply suffered a severe break down, possibly brought on by stress, and as such we have decided to discontinue her antipsychotic medication. Instead we have prescribed mild sedatives to be given as needed and we monitor her condition closely in hopes that she will simply come out of it.” Dr. Webber watched Willow’s reaction to this news closely. Most people don’t like to be told that all that can be done for a loved one is to ‘wait and see’, but sometimes that is the case. Willow however, didn’t seem bothered by the news at all. She simply listened, nodding her head occasionally.
“Can I see her now?”
“Of course, I think she would like that very much. I’ll show you myself.”
Willow was escorted to a room on the second floor. It was small for a bedroom, but her mother was the only occupant, so it seemed cozy rather than crowded. This place was a hundred times better than Marion, the redhead thought, but despite the homey décor, there was still an unease about the place. Maybe it was the faint smell of urine covered by disinfectant, or perhaps it was the sound of whimpering and babbling that floated down the halls. Willow shuddered slightly, and went to sit next to her mother who was perched on her bed, rocking and humming to herself.
Sheila looked up at the pretty redhead across from her, but there was no recognition in her eyes. The older woman smiled at her daughter briefly and resumed her rocking. Willow climbed onto the bed next to her, pulling a beautiful doll she had bought in Italy from her oversized bag, and handed it to her mother. She took it happily and began rocking it like a real baby as she continued to hum. Drusilla had been right; a dolly was a good gift. Willow grabbed a hairbrush from the dresser nearby and began brushing her mother’s long red tresses, just as she had done for Willow when she was a child.
In some twisted way, Willow felt content, happy. Growing up, she had wanted nothing more than a family that would always be there for her. Her parents had failed sorely at providing this, leading the girl to become unusually close with her friends. But now her mother was here, a captive audience, so to speak, for Willow’s affections. All day the pair sat together while Willow braided her mother’s hair, and told her stories of her travels abroad. Sheila Rosenberg listened to the pretty girl with rapt attention, not really understanding the words, but enjoying the lilting sound of her voice. When the sun began to set, Willow was sad that it was time for her to go, but resolved to return in the near future for another visit. She gave her mother a hug and kiss goodbye, and headed out.
However, she had no sooner started to leave than she suddenly ran headlong into someone trying to enter the room. She glanced up to apologize, and found herself staring into familiar eyes. Willow gasped in shock to see John, the very orderly that had made her time at Marion a living hell. She stumbled back away from him, starting to fall, and he reached out to catch her arm before she toppled over.
The moment his hand touched her, she let out a terrified squeal, and tried to pull away from him. She did fall then, scrambling toward the bed to try to put more space between them. Her panicked screech pulled her mother out of her daze for a moment, causing her to look up into the face of the man in her room. Soon, she too started making small terrified sounds of recognition. Willow, who had clambered onto the bed with her mother, immediately noticed her reaction, and a sick feeling washed over her. She may have tortured this woman herself, but the thought of someone else harming her while she was in such a fragile state, especially the man who had spent so much time torturing her, was more than she could bear. Willow felt her rage and her fear battling for dominance within her. After all she had seen, all she had done, this man still succeeded in making her feel like a frightened child, powerless.
It took a few moments for the man to register that his new, ‘favorite’, patient was actually related to the pretty girl he had enjoyed raping so much in the past. With that realization, a twisted smile spread across his face.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here? It’s good to see you again, Willow,” he said, his voice rough with desire.
“W-w-what are you doing here?” Willow asked weakly.
“Oh, I was just coming in to tell Sheila goodnight. I was hoping to spend a few minutes alone with her before my shift was over,” he practically purred as he strode closer to the pair of frightened women, “You know, after you, I have a real weakness for redheads.”
He was close enough to touch her, as Willow’s memories of abuse went screaming through her head. Her heart was beating too hard, too fast, making her dizzy with the sound of blood pounding in her ears. Adrenaline flooded her body, panic overwhelming her as he closed the distance between them, again reaching out to touch her. She tasted bile in the back of her throat, only a brief moment before her body finally revolted against the emotional overload, and she vomited all over her tormentor. John recoiled in disgust, turning abruptly and heading from the room.
“I’ll see the both of you later,” he quipped before retreating.
Willow sat shaking uncontrollably for several moments before she realized that her mother had placed her arms around her trembling frame and was rocking her slowly, humming her soothing tune. Willow looked up into green eyes, very much like her own. There was still no recognition that Willow was her daughter, but there was something, some level of understanding that they were both survivors, both in need of healing. Willow broke down and sobbed, letting her mother comfort her as she never had before.
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Willow watched John from the safety of her car, as he went into yet another strip club. After the incident at the Greeley Center, she had used a bit of magic to get a peek at his employment files. He had never listed working at Marion, so the people at Greeley had no way of knowing he had been fired for improper conduct. Willow thought about telling them just what kind of a man they had hired, but no one believed her before, so she saw little likelihood they would believe her now. She got his address from the same file, and decided to handle the situation herself. After all, she owed him.
However, the longer she followed him, the more she seemed to lose her nerve. She had never been this afraid of anyone in her life, and she just couldn’t understand it. She had spent most her years around actual monsters, and she had fought them off. Sure, she was always terrified at the time, but still Willow always found the courage to fight. But this man had done her more harm than beating her up or trying to kill her. He had stolen her self worth, her ability to look in the mirror without hating the person who looked back at her. He was a worse monster than any vampire or demon, because he had a soul and still he took pleasure in preying upon the weak. Just that morning, she would have described herself the same way, but seeing John again, she was reminded of the difference between torturing for pleasure, and exacting vengeance.
Willow watched as John was thrown out of the club by an angry bouncer, almost as soon as he had entered. He stumbled drunkenly for a few moments, yelling obscenities at the man, but when the bouncer moved to shut him up, he retreated like the coward he was. It was one thing to act like the ‘big man’ when he raping a woman who was completely unable to defend herself, but it was quite another to act out his violence against someone with a fighting chance. Willow observed the scene with distaste. She already knew what kind of man he was, and was not surprised at his little display. She did take interest however when he stumbled into a nearby alley.
As she watched him stagger into seclusion, she drew in upon herself, calling up every memory of every time this man had hurt her, and she let the rage build within her. Every ounce of fear that flooded her senses, she turned in upon herself until it came back as anger. Soon, all she could see was red. Again her pulse was pounding in her ears, but now it was driving her, flooding her body with adrenaline, but this time to fight, not flee.
She found him in the alley, leaning heavily against one of the buildings while he pissed on his foot. The moment he finished, Willow made a sound, like clearing her throat. He spun around to face her, still clutching his shriveled manhood in one hand. A sneer spread across his face as he began to grope himself with more purpose.
“I knew shoo couldn’ stay ‘way,” he slurred in her general direction.
“You got that right,” she replied in an icy tone, “After all, how could a girl like me resist a ‘man’ like you?”
As she walked closer to him, she reached her hand deep into her coat pocket, gripping the cold steel within. By the time she was within touching distance, he had already worked himself up to half an erection, but the high alcohol content of his blood was making anything more difficult at best. Willow stood very close, her hand sliding down his stomach to take his semi-soft member into her own hand. He sighed in pleasure, the stench of alcohol and sweat assaulting her senses.
“I alwaysh knew shoo were a whore,” John mumbled in her ear, his hand reaching out to grab her breast harshly. Willow let out a bitter laugh, making him flinch slightly.
“You, don’t know ANYTHING about me!” she said with cold fury, gripping his cock firmly with one hand while slicing it off neatly with the blade she held in the other.
For a moment he was too in shock to register what had happened. Willow dropped the piece of ruined flesh from her hand as blood poured out of him, covering her hands and the lower part of her body. His eyes grew wide as she lifted her hands up in the dim light, the blood quickly cooling in the frigid cold, and looking much darker than normal in the darkness. John let out a panicked scream before Willow plunged the knife into his throat, severing his windpipe and silencing his screams. Blood sprayed from the wound, coating her face in a fine mist of red. The scent of it filled her senses, and drove her rage further, as she stabbed him again and again, until her arms ached with the effort and he was left hunched over on the ground with her bent over him, both of them drenched in his blood. The knife fell from her hand, as she stumbled a few feet away from the body and again vomited.
Willow always imagined that if this day ever came, she would have used her magic to torture him slowly like the others, Dr. Scholten, her mother. But when the moment finally came, she had lost all control. What she had done was fast, brutal, and so much more intimate. Willow looked down at what had once been his face, but now was just so much meat after being sliced to ribbons. She felt no remorse over her actions, just surprise at the force of her rage. She had to get away from this place, now.
The redhead stumbled back to the car in a daze, and drove off, doing her best not to crash into anything given her lack of concentration.