Trials and Restorations

~ Part 4 ~


Panting, the young psychiatrist found himself experiencing tremors laid atop his wife. Climbing off her, he held onto the slayer as the building around them shook and items around the room were dislodged from their original positions. In an embrace until the wave finished, he looked at the mess the quake had created around them.

“Wow,” he commented wide-eyed. Looking down on his blonde lover he asked her, “Did the earth move for you too?”

“Funny,” was all Buffy could say, remembering the symbolism for Sunnydale earthquakes. They were hardly ever meaningless. She looked towards her bedside telephone as it rang and almost immediately knowing whom the caller was she sat up to answer it. Watching her other-half alight the bed and cover himself, she picked up the receiver.

“I’ll go and check on Rory,” he told her, leaving the room.

Nodding, Buffy answered, “Hello.”

“It’s me,” she heard. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah, Giles, I’m pretty sure the whole of California did. What’s the good news?”

“I’m afraid there is none,” the Brit continued. “How soon can you come down here?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll go and see if I can find Amanda and have her here too.”

“See you soon,” Buffy replied, dropping the receiver.

“Who was that?” Scott asked, returning, sitting down and bong tng the baby on his knee.

“Work. I have to go out for a minute, will you two be ok?”

“Of course we will,” the brunette replied, asking the child, “Won’t we, buddy?” He turned to the slayer. “You should have seen him all wide-eyed and everything. The little guy’s first earthquake!”

“Yeah,” the slayer agreed, leaving the bed and getting dressed. “I’ll be right back.”

”Take your time.”

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Opening the front door to her newly acquired four bedroomed house, Faith faced a uniformed employee.

"Hi," the postal worker started, glaring at the slayer. "I've got a package here for a Ms. Rosenberg. Will you sign?"

"Yeah," Faith replied, taking the clipboard and reading its details.

"I'm Mike," the man introduced. When silence followed, he continued, "Y'know, I'm new to this town and I thought what's a better way to make new friends than to be a postal worker?" He began to chuckle.

Smiling, the slayer handed the blonde back the signed document.

Looking at it, he continued, "So, Willow, you go out much?"

"Why?"

"I was just thinking that maybe, if you're not too busy, you could show me around town; be one of those 'new friends' I was talking about."

"I don't think my girlfriend'd approve of that."

"It's none of your girlfriend's business who you date," the postal worker spat. When the slayer's expression changed to one of mocking, he realised, "Oh, your 'girl-friend' girlfriend."

"Yeah. My 'girl-friend' girlfriend," the smaller of the two echoed.

"That's a shame," he told her.

"For you," Faith replied.

"Oh. Who's that?" Mike asked, leering at the petite blonde walking behind them and into another room.

Disgusted with the reference, the slayer replied, "Get off my doorstep before I knock you off."

Startled, the postal worker moved, met with the door slamming in his face.

"Who was that?" Joyce asked, as Faith entered the front room. "You sounded pretty mad."

"The postman… With a package for Willow." She looked at the box, studying it in a bid to figure out its content.

"I know what you're thinking, but Willow might be back soon and I don't think she'll like us opening her mail while she’s on holiday."

"Yeah," Faith agreed, tossing it aside. "You ready?"

"Yes," the girl replied, putting on her trainers.

"Alright, let's go." She decided, leading the way into the hall. Picking up two sets of keys of those hung on the wall, she asked, "Regular or convertible Merc?"

"We took the convertible last time, so regular."

"Regular it is," the slayer announced, replacing the other key and opening the front door.

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Waving goodbye and closing his front door, Scott Anderson made his way into the living room of sixteen-thirty Rovello drive. Sitting on the sofa, he looked to his wife. "It's hard giving him back, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied, watching through the window as Xander carried his child. "He's a great kid."

Seating herself next to her husband, she allowed him to take her into his arms. "Honey, tell me again why we can't have one of those."

Sitting up, the slayer affirmed, "Scott, I told you, I can't go through that again. You don't know what it's like..." She stopped herself. "I just can't."

Sighing, the brunette told her. "You're right. I don't know what it's like to lose a child and I am so sorry you had to. But, Buffy, I'm here now and things will be different. You won’t have to worry about losing a child ever again, because it'd be over my dead body that'd happen."

"My God, Scott, that's what I'm worried about. If anyone were to ever come after me, you and our baby would be the first things they would target."

"You don't think I could handle myself against disgruntled patients?"

"That's not what I... Never mind. Scott, please, just drop it."

"I can't. Buffy, I know you would make the best mom in the world and I'd be a pretty damn good father and you've given me all these excuses why you don't think we should have a baby, but you haven't told me that you don't want to. I see the way you are when Xander drops Rory off - and I see the way you are when he leaves and I know you want this as much as I do." Giving the slayer a chance to speak, he continued when she failed to do so. "Okay, you've gone into 'no-response' mode, so I'll drop it... For now. But, promise me you'll think about it."

"I'll think about it," the slayer told him, getting up. She picked up her coat. "I'll be back around eight."

"You're going to back to work?"

"Yes. I have tonnes to catch up with."

"But this was supposed to be our afternoon off together and you’ve already been in."

"The patients aren't going to see themselves and the clinic must be understaffed with the both of us here."

"Okay then, I'm coming with you," the brunette decided, standing up.

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I don't want to leave things like this between us and let them fester." Holding her, he asked, "We're okay, right?"

"Let's just go, okay," Buffy told him, leading the way.

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Entering the silver Mercedes, Faith slammed the door.
"Today's her afternoon off. And the stupid desk-clerk wouldn't give me her address." She told Joyce attaching her seat-belt. Banging her head on steering wheel, she murmured, "It's like a freaking ghost-chase."

"We'll find her," Joyce assured. "We can come back tomorrow and see her then."

"Yeah, so they can tell us that she's gone to lunch or she's taken a vacation for a year."

"At least we know she'll be back," the youngster replied, looking for the positives of the situation. "We've waited three years, Faith. Another couple of days isn't going to kill us."

Smiling, the slayer agreed, "Yeah. And it'll be worth it, just to see the look on her face."

Joyce returned the happy expression. "So what do we do now?"

Starting the engine, Faith replied, "Let's go to the mall."


TBC....