Buffy felt like the walls were closing in on her. There was a heavy weight pressing on her chest as if someone was sitting on her ribcage.
Faith quickly pulled a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with water from the tap. "Here," she gently coaxed. "Drink."
Buffy grabbed the glass and drank its contents in giant gulps. When she reached the bottom of the glass, she was out of breath. "I can't just do nothing, Faith," she gasped. "This isn't right. Someone stole my baby."
The cup slipped from her hand and shattered against the title floor. Buffy looked down at the fragmented glass and then back up at her girlfriend. Faith's beautiful face was twisted into a guilty frown.
"What…" Buffy's knees buckled and she grabbed at the kitchen counter for stability. Her vision clouded and Faith's features looked overexposed like an Instagram print.
She slumped against the countertop, knocking a few objects to the floor.
"I'm so sorry, B." The words sounded muffled. She felt like someone had stuck cotton in her ears.
And then everything went black.
Buffy's eyes snapped open. Above her, in her direct line of sight, was the familiar whisper white ceiling of her bedroom. She abruptly sat up and was immediately punished for the sudden movement. Her mouth felt dry and her tongue thick and heavy as if she'd been wandering the desert for 40 days and nights.
She pressed her palm into her forehead, hoping to stem the sharp pain assaulting her frontal lobe. It was like someone was repeatedly stabbing the front of her brain with an ice pick. She'd experienced hangovers before, but this was a new sensation, wholly unpleasant.
She felt the mattress sink beside her.
"How are you feeling?" came Faith's voice, immediately concerned and repentant.
"What happened?" Buffy croaked out around a dry, swollen tongue.
A frown seemed to have taken permanent residency on Faith's face along with a deep crease between her eyebrows. "You, uh, were freaking out," she said hesitantly. "So I gave you something to calm you down."
Buffy blinked once, unbelieving. "You…you drugged me?" she asked incredulously.
Faith hung her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do," she sighed miserably. "Maybe I overreacted, but I've never seen you freak out like that before – not even when the Mouth of Hell was about to swallow you whole. I-I guess I panicked."
"How did you expect me to react?" Buffy demanded, her previous panic now replaced with anger. "Someone, something, stole my unborn child out of my womb!" She laid her palms against her flat stomach as if to emphasize her point.
Faith pressed her lips together, afraid to say anything more, but also not really knowing what to say. She had no idea what to do. She knew Buffy needed her support on this, but her girlfriend was wrong. There was no baby. Buffy hadn't been pregnant in a very long time.
"This thing with the baby, B," she said finally. "It's not right."
"I know it's not right. Which is why we shouldn't be wasting anymore time." Buffy threw back the covers on the bed, prepared to spring into action. "I've got to get out there. We've got to do research. We've got to find out who stole my baby!"
Faith placed a firm hand on her girlfriend's shoulder to calm her down and keep her from leaping out of bed. "See?" she said hoarsely. "It's that kind of attitude right there that's got me worried. You can't keep freaking out."
Buffy glared at the brunette. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child," she snapped, nostrils flaring. "I don't…I'm not…" The words stuck in her throat and she choked out a sob. "I don't know how to do this, Fai."
Faith took Buffy's hands in her own and stroked her thumbs along the tops of her hands. "I know, babe," she said gently. "And honestly, neither do I." She worried her bottom lip. "Maybe it's time you go back to seeing Dr. Lindquist?" she proposed.
Buffy sniffled loudly. She pulled a hand free from Faith's warm hold to wipe at her damp eyes. "Who?"
Faith's features looked tortured. Why didn't Buffy remember any of this? "Your therapist," she said. "After the baby…didn't make it, you started seeing her. It seemed to help."
Buffy frowned. "What for? I'm not crazy."
"I know that," Faith sighed. She rubbed at her face. "But it's just nice to have a neutral party to talk to sometimes. Someone removed from the situation who's not going to judge."
Buffy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "When did you become such an advocate of psychotherapy?"
Faith shrugged. "Prison," she grunted.
"Oh."
Faith looked away, not wanting Buffy to see her like this. Despite how close they were, she hated anyone seeing her vulnerable. "I was resistant at first," she revealed, "but after a while, I guess I got used to it – sharing things with a stranger that I didn't want to admit even to myself."
Buffy was silent for a moment. "Is it weird that I'm kind of jealous of your prison shrink?"
Faith cocked an eyebrow. "How's that?"
"I just mean that they probably know more about you than I do," Buffy revealed sheepishly.
Faith licked her lips. "You're probably right," she admitted. "But that's not your fault. I haven't exactly been an open book."
"Do you think you might want to some day?" Buffy gently pressed. "Tell me things about your past? Tell me stories about when you were in prison? We never talk about that."
"I suppose that's cause I just wanna forget about that stuff," Faith admitted with a casual shrug. "Don't wanna pick at a scab just to make it bleed." She could see the disappointment written on her girlfriend's face. "But, uh, I'd bleed again for you, B."
Buffy shook her head. "I don't want your blood. If it's too hard…" she trailed off.
"No. I want you to know me," Faith insisted. "No sense pretending like the past didn't happen."
Buffy nodded solemnly. "Plus," she noted, "you wouldn't be the woman you are today if all that stuff hadn't happened."
Faith cracked a smile. "Yeah. I might actually be a normal, stable, functioning person."
Buffy brushed a few strands of hair away from her girlfriend's face. She ran her thumb along Faith's cheekbone. For the moment at least, the mystery and resulting panic about her missing baby wasn't the only thing on her radar. "Normal's overrated."
Buffy picked at the edge of the fabric-upholstered couch. She kept her eyes trained on her fingers and her nervous habit. The room was silent minus the measured ticking of a miniature grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
"How about I start us off today?"
Buffy shrugged her slender shoulders, but didn't look up.
"I think we should start with the elephant in the room. You've had a bit of a regression this week."
It wasn't posed as a question – just a fact. But Buffy felt compelled to respond.
"A bit of a regression?" she echoed in disbelief. Her voice held a hardened edge. She finally leveled her gaze for the first time since sitting down. "If that's a BIT, I'd hate to see your version of a full-blown backslide."
Buffy glared defiantly at her psychologist – the woman she had supposedly been confiding in for nearly half a year. Nothing about Dr. Lindquist felt threatening. In fact, Buffy had to admit the other woman was quite attractive. Despite the equally intimidating and impressive framed diplomas on the wall, the doctor looked not much older than Buffy. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun that could have looked severe, but on her looked very feminine. She wore minimal make-up, as it was unnecessary on her youthful features. Her smartly tailored button up blouse, tucked into a grey pencil skirt, was the kind of outfit Buffy wished she could wear if it weren't so impractical for slaying.
The only problem was, Buffy knew she'd never met this woman before.
Dr. Lindquist pursed her lips and removed her black-framed glasses. She carefully folded them closed and set them on the coffee table that separated her from her patient. "I'm sorry, Buffy," she genuinely apologized. "I don't mean to make light of this situation."
Buffy bit on her lower lip. She nodded glibly and dropped her gaze to the red fabric couch again.
"Let's try this again," the doctor gingerly tread. "This week has been hard."
Buffy snapped her head up to glare again.
"VERY hard," Dr. Lindquist self-corrected. "And it's my job to help you get through this confusion so you can get back to your life."
Buffy's hand absently floated to her abdomen, a movement that did not go unnoticed by her therapist. "I just don't understand," she murmured. "How could something like this happen?"
Buffy meant something else altogether, still not willing to even entertain the idea that her extended pregnancy had been a delusion of her mind. Thoughts of evil demons and meddling magical spells clouded her thoughts. Dr. Lindquist interpreted her resigned confusion differently.
"I think it bears recognizing that your baby would have gone full term at the end of this week," the doctor gently started. "Whether you consciously knew that or not, perhaps this is your body and brain's way of trying to cope with that fact - mourning the death of a child who should have been born later this week."
Buffy looked back down at her abdomen, hating how flat it looked beneath her top. She stroked her stomach, an action that felt as natural as breathing.
She couldn't talk to this woman. She couldn't tell her she believed everyone was under the influence of a spell. Not without sounding crazy and risking going to a psyche ward. Her child was depending on her. She couldn't save him or her from whatever evil had occurred from the inside of a padded cell. So instead, she did what she'd had to do once, long ago. She denied her truth.
"Maybe you're right," she croaked. She swallowed thickly. It was hard to get the words out. "I hadn't realized the due date was so near. That can't just be a coincidence."
Dr. Lindquist smiled warmly and settled back in her leather chair. "That's good, Buffy," she encouraged her patient. "It's healthy to keep an open mind. I know how hard this must be for you."
Buffy bit back the scathing words that erupted from her throat. YOU KNOW NOTHING, she thought. Catching herself still rubbing her belly, Buffy stopped and let her hand fall hack down by her side.
Dr. Lindquist scribbled something down on her pad of paper. "Why don't we end here for the day," she proposed. She stood and straightened the hem of her skirt. "Today was a good first step," she congratulated her patient. "But I don't want to push you too hard. We can talk more, later this week if you're available. You can make an appointment with Cindy out front." Her smile was warm and should have felt reassuring. Dr. Lindquist was apparently very good at her job.
Buffy stood as well and wiped her clammy palms on the thighs of her jeans. She gave her doctor a forced smile and left the office without another word.
Faith looked up from her magazine to see Buffy walking purposely toward her. She glanced at a wall clock in the therapist's front waiting room. "Done so soon?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Buffy grabbed her purse from a wall of hooks. "Yep. Let's go."
Faith scrambled to her feet and tossed the half-read magazine back on an end table to follow her hastily retreating partner. "Wait up!" she called. She finally caught up with Buffy at the elevator where the blonde woman waited for the lift to arrive.
Buffy looked cross and impatiently pressed the Down button repeatedly as if it would hasten the elevator's arrival.
Faith reached for Buffy's elbow. "What's wrong?" she pressed. "What's the hurry?"
"I just don't want to be here any longer than I have to," Buffy mumbled to the still-closed elevator doors. "This place makes my skin crawl."
Faith frowned, remembering how deliberate Buffy had been in choosing a psychiatrist. They'd visited practically every therapist office in Cleveland proper and even some of those in the suburbs.
The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival. The doors swished open and Buffy stepped in. "Are you coming?" she asked impatiently.
Faith nodded. She entered the elevator after Buffy. The blonde slayer forcefully pressed the button for the ground level and repeatedly jabbed at the 'Door Close' button.
"How…how did it go with your therapist?" Faith ventured to ask. She felt like she was dealing with a live grenade. She didn't know how to talk to Buffy. Communicating with the Chosen One had never been easy, but now it felt almost volatile, dangerous.
The door opened to the ground level and Buffy hustled out. Faith followed, lagging behind, and worrying what was wrong with her girlfriend.
"I don't want to come back here again," Buffy said stiffly as they walked outside to where Faith's car was parked.
"Why not? What happened?" Faith pressed, pausing to unlock the car doors. "Did Dr. Lindquist say or do something to upset you?"
Buffy frowned and considered Faith's question as she opened the passenger side door and slid into the car. "No, she was fine," she sighed. "It just…it brought up too many bad memories." She looked at her girlfriend, hazel green eyes wide. "Promise me, whatever happens, you won't send me away to an asylum. I don't want to go there again," she rasped miserably.
Faith put the keys in the ignition, but at her girlfriend's words, she stopped short of turning on the car. Her features crumpled in confusion. "Again?" she echoed.
Buffy's eyes began to water. "Oh God," she sobbed. "I can't do this." Her hands went up to her face, and she pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes sockets, hoping to block the flood she was sure was to follow. After a tense moment, and now sure she had her emotions in check, Buffy let her hands drop away from her face.
"Not soon after I was Called," she started with a shaky voice, "I burned down the high school gymnasium and was expelled from school. And my parents had me committed."
Faith's eyes went wide. "They did what?"
Buffy sighed and worried her hands on her lap. She absently stared out the passenger side window at the world outside, watching individuals and couples mill in and out of the non-descript office building where Dr. Lindquist's office was. She doubted the therapist would treat anyone that day whose psychosis surmounted her own. Her sudden burst of emotions had completely drained her, but she wanted, no needed, Faith to know how important her sanity was to her. She couldn't have people thinking she was crazy. Not again.
"Up until then I'd never done anything wrong – I was the perfect daughter. An okay student, popular, head cheerleader, and then something happened, and I wasn't that anymore. I told them about the vampires and how I was the Slayer. Of course they thought I'd gone crazy." She sighed, tiredly. "They only let me out of that place when I told them vampires weren't real."
"B, I'm so sorry." Faith reached out a tentative hand across the center consol as if to console the other woman, but pulled it back instead. Comfort was never her strong suit. "I didn't know," she said weakly.
"I'm not crazy, Faith." Buffy blinked back the tears that seemed to flow so easily lately. "I wasn't crazy when I said vampires crashed the school dance, and I'm not crazy now."
TBC