a battlefield for my heart

When Angela opened her eyes on Monday, she wished she hadn't.

Actually, she just wanted to go back in time.

It wasn't enough she woke up Saturday convinced she was Joxer. (And Marty thought he was ... Willow? Weird.) She had to go to the roof and talk to Willow (Nadia?) and himself (herself? Tempe?) about it. Then she made some armor and talked to Anders, Chloe (Marty? -- and, gah, had she kind of hit on Chloe?) and some girl Kaylee, who she probably owed an apology. Or flowers. Or both. And then the next morning she had talked to Walter, who thought he was her, and Dawn, who was just herself.

And then she had met Bel, who was Phoebe and Callisto, who had not killed her. Yet.

Suicide by pillow suffication looked like a better option than cooking class. Maybe she should just stay in bed.