Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

The Mother-Child Reunion: Buffy Anne Scott

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: Buffy Anne Scott was kidnaped as a baby from her real home in Tree Hill, North Carolina. Almost nineteen years later, she's reunited with that family. BtVS/OTH. All pairings revealed during story.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > One Tree HillbtvsfrkFR1368,7580439,98517 Nov 0711 Apr 09No

Chapter One

One Tree Hill post S4 “All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone” x/over w/ Buffy the Vampire Slayer S4 “The Freshman”

Tree Hill, North Carolina

Hank Summers raced down the highway in his car towards the airport. In his left arm he held a small infant while he drove with his right.

Once at the airport, he got his bags out of the car and nervously sped into the nearest line. The young baby girl he held gurgled sleepily, clutching the soft pink blanket around her. It was then that a letter on the blanket appeared within Hank’s sight. It was a B. A dark pink, capital B sewn roughly on the blanket. He pulled the blanket off the child and shoved it into the duffel bag on his other shoulder.

The line kept moving and soon it was Hank’s turn. The young, female clerk smiled politely at him from across the counter, “Hi-ya. How can I help you?”

Hank cleared his throat, nervously looking around, “Yeah, I need two ticks: one child and one adult.”

“Children under two fly free,” the clerk informed him.

“Okay then, just one adult,” Hank pulled out his walled, “And make it first class.”


Young, seventeen-year-old Karen Rowe sobbed into the soft, light-blue, blanket of her young son Lucas Eugene Scott. The five-month-old cried also in response to his mother’s restlessness. Clutched in the hand that did not hold Lucas, Karen held a chunk of fabric from Lucas’s blanket. On the chunk was a roughly-sewn, dark-blue, capital letter L.

The doorbell rang and Karen made her way over to the front door. Once open, she saw a tall, slightly overweight police officer holding a notepad and a pen, “Ms. Rowe?” Karen nodded, “I’m Officer Mitchell. We received your call. What seems to be the problem?”

“My daughter was kidnapped!” Karen sobbed, “I was giving my son a bath down the hall when I heard a noise on the baby monitor. I got my son out of the bath and went down the hall to check on my daughter and I saw a figure, bending over her crib.”

“Did you see who it was?” Officer Mitchell said.

Karen shook her head, tears falling from her eyes, “No! And before I could even react the person picked up my daughter and jumped out of the window!” By this time, Karen was practically hyperventilating.

Officer Mitchell went up to Karen and put his hand on her shoulder, “It’s okay, we’re going to get your daughter back. But first I need you to tell me about your daughter. Her name, age, picture.”

Karen nodded, holding Lucas close. She went over to the wall, picking up a picture of two children. She went back to the officer, “This is my daughter, Buffy Anne Scott. She’s five months old, my son Lucas’s twin.” Officer Mitchell took the picture, “She’s got curly blonde hair and she’s very quiet.” Karen heaved a huge sob, “Please find her,” More tears rushed out, “Please . . .”

Officer Mitchell nodded, “We’re going to do everything we can to find your daughter, Ms. Rowe. I’m going to call in some back up. Is there someone I can call who can stay with you?”

“The twins’ uncle, Keith Scott. His number is on the fridge,” Karen replied.

“Okay,” Officer Mitchell said, “I’m going to call Mr. Scott and have an officer stay with you until he can get here.” Karen nodded, hugging Lucas tight.


Los Angeles, California

Joyce Summers held the tissue up to her nose and blew, tears falling down her dry, pale face. She coughed hoarsely, pulling the afghan closer to her. Across the room, the television softly crooned the voices of the local newscasters. It was dark outside, the sun having gone down hours ago. Joyce coughed again, depositing the soiled tissue into a nearby wastebasket. The cough worsened and she hastily grabbed another tissue, holding it to her mouth. Once the horrid hacking had ceased she pulled back the tissue and saw . . . a few drops of blood. The tears increased and Joyce pulled the blanket over her head and sobbed.

Suddenly the lock on the door clicked and the knob turned. A few seconds later a man walked in. Joyce lifted back the blanket. It was her husband, Hank Summers. He was home from his business trip.

“Hi honey, I’m home!” Hank rang out, “How are you feeling?”

Joyce sniffled in response, coughing.

“I see,” Hank said, “Well, I have something to cheer you up. Or rather, someone.”

“What?” Joyce sat up.

“Well, while I was down in Martinsville, Virginia on my way to Richmond I came across an adoption agency for young children.”

Joyce’s heart skipped a beat.

“I went in, just to look around, and found the most adorable and perfect little girl.” It was then that Joyce heard a noise coming from Hank’s arms, “I knew you would love her too so I just adopted her, right then and there.”

A great big smile erupted on Joyce’s face despite the pain and congestion in her lungs. She so desperately wanted a little girl of her own but because of the chemotherapy to get rid of the tumor in her brain she was not able to conceive.

“She’s five months old and the people at the agency told me that she was abandoned by her young, teenage mother at the hospital,” Hank dropped his coat and luggage and went over to his ailing wife on the couch. He knelt down beside Joyce, uncovering the young girl’s face from the orange blanket she was wrapped in, “Her name is Buffy Anne.”

Joyce exhaled sharply the moment she laid eyes on the infant. She had soft blonde hair and bright green eyes. She was the most adorable infant Joyce had ever seen. And now, this infant was her daughter.

Things were definitely going to be better from now on . . .


Tree Hill, North Carolina a few months later . . .

Karen held a tissue to her mouth as she stood on the hill facing the small, stone headstone. Beside her, her long time friend Keith Scott held on to her shoulders. Across from the two of them an elderly priest spoke the traditional ceremony for a funeral.

The police had not been able to find any trace of Karen’s daughter Buffy. She’d simply vanished. After lost hope and too many disappointments, Karen had decided to let Buffy finally rest and held an empty-casket funeral for her. Keith had told her it would also help her move on and still be there for the only child she had left, Buffy’s twin brother Lucas.

She didn’t know if she’d ever see Buffy again, but she needed to be strong for her son and make sure nobody ever took him away from her.


Sunnydale, California a little under nineteen years later . . .

Buffy Anne Summers yawned as she opened the front door of the house she lived in with her mother Joyce Summers. She was eighteen years old, nineteen in a few weeks, and about to start her freshman year of college at the University of Sunnydale.

“Mom, I’m home!” Buffy went in and set down her house keys on the table beside the door, “Mom?” She’d just gotten done with a slay patrol with her best friend Willow Rosenberg at one of the many nearby cemeteries. Buffy was what was called a 'Vampire Slayer.' There was only one girl in every generation who became Slayer. The job of a slayer was to slay all of the supernatural forces of darkness that threatened to destroy the innocent people of the world. Mom?” She called out again. The house was not dark, but the only lights Buffy could see was the upstairs hall light. "Mom?"

A cough echoed from within the house, “I’m upstairs, honey.” Buffy cringed. Her mother’s voice was hoarse again.

She sighed and climbed the stairs to her mother’s room. The door was partially open and the light was on. She pushed the door open and slowly went in.

Just recently Buffy and her mom had found out that her cancer, which she’d been in remission for the past ten years, had come back. The doctors weren’t sure yet how long she had this time or if they could get it out this time. Buffy’s earliest memories was of her mother being sick and her parents fighting all the time. Then shortly after Buffy turned fifteen and found out she was the slayer her parents had separated. By the time she'd turned sixteen and had been expelled from school for blowing up the gymnasium (of course, what the Los Angeles Police Department hadn't known was that there were at least a dozen or so vampires infesting the gym of Hemery High School) her parents had officially divorced. Shortly after the divorce had been finalized, Buffy and her mother moved to Sunnydale for a fresh start.

She'd met her new watcher Giles and then Xander Harris and his best friend Willow Rosenberg and together the four of them fought the forces of darkness. Later the annoyingly-popular Cordelia Chase and mellow, werewolf-guitarist Daniel Osbourne (a.k.a. Oz) joined them too. Cordelia, who had dated Xander but were now broken up had left after graduation. None of them really knew where she was now. And Willow was still dating Oz.

"Hey mom," Buffy said quietly as she pushed over the door and went into her mother's bedroom. She saw her mother sitting in bed, leaning against the headboard. A blanket was curled up around her and she held an art magazine in her hands, "How are you feeling?"

Her mother sighed, "That headache came back and brought some friends along with it."

"When's your doctor's appointment?" Buffy asked.

"Tomorrow," Joyce answered, setting the magazine down, "How was patrol with Willow?"

Buffy frowned, gently sitting on the bed beside her mother, "Fruitless. The stupid vampire never rose. But I did decide on the classes I want though. Willow helped me."

"That's good," Joyce replied in her typical motherly tone. However this time Buffy could sense something else. A tone, a particular tone she had not heard in a long time.

"Mom, what's wrong? Did the doctor call?" Buffy's senses immediately went on high alert.

"No, nothing like that," Joyce shook her head.

"But there is something," Buffy tensed up.

Joyce nodded, "I'm afraid so, honey." Joyce took her daughter's hand and held it in her own, "I did receive a phone call but it was not from the doctor." Uh-oh Buffy thought, that doesn't sound good. "It was from the police."

Whoa, totally unexpected.

"The police . . ." Buffy was dumbfounded.

"Yes," Joyce sighed, "Remember when I told you a couple of months ago that your father had moved to Spain?"

Buffy nodded, "With his secretary."

"Well, the police told me that they, well, they found your father dead."

"Wait, what?" Buffy's eyes went wide. What the frijole was going on?

Joyce took a deep breath, nodding, "There's more." Time seemed to have stopped and Buffy sat still. "The police found some things in his apartment that they felt I-we-should know about." Joyce stopped. A tear felt from both her eyes. She looked up at Buffy, "Remember when you were fourteen and your father and I told you that you were adopted but we still loved you?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied, "You said that because of the chemo you couldn't have a baby so you and dad decided to adopt."

"That's right," Joyce nodded, "However, it seems that neither of us were told the truth all these years."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy was starting to get worried.

"The police found a pink baby blanket, a bunch of new articles, and a forged birth certificate in a false bottom in one of your father's drawers." Joyce told her, "The officer I spoke with told me the articles were of a kidnapping case over in North Carolina about the same time we adopted you." Joyce put a tissue up to her mother. As soon as Buffy heard the word 'kidnapping' her heart skipped a beat. Joyce sniffled, "It appears from what the officer told me that your father lied about where he got you from."

Buffy stared into space, her brain momentarily numb.

"Buffy, honey," Joyce continued to sniffled, "Your father Hank kidnapped you from a home in North Carolina and lied to me-to you-about it." Tears fell from Buffy's own eyes. "Baby, you've got a family in North Carolina who don't even know you're still alive."

To be continued . . .
Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking