Aeipathy

by aliceinwonderbra

Summary:

“When Angel came to give me the amulet, we talked a little,” Buffy says, “about the future. About our relationship.”

“I guess his arm isn’t tired yet from carrying that torch,” Faith mutters darkly.

---

They saved the world. Again. Buffy starts thinking about what comes next. Part of my Ten Roads Series, ten times B/F could have connected with each other. Set immediately post-Chosen.

Notes:

*Please do not distribute or post this story anywhere without my permission.* This is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

Aeipathy (noun): A continued passion; an unyielding disease.

Chapter 1

After the dust has finished settling on the crater that once housed everything that most of them have ever known and loved, the bus rolls on. They drive north to Santa Barbara, to bring Robin and a few of the potentials to the emergency room. Giles spins a tale about them having been wounded in the earthquake that just swallowed the town of Sunnydale, finds a sympathetic nurse who gives them a private consult room with a phone, and starts making calls to the parents of dazed and newly powered girls crowded into the tiny room.

 

Buffy lets them disinfect and cover the entry and exit wounds in her abdomen and back. Then she declines further testing, walks right out the emergency room exit, makes a right and skirts the building, and stops at the side of a physician only parking lot, sitting down on a parking block. She sits there until the sun is high in the sky, well past noon, just watching the cars come and go. One day ago she had no idea if she’d live to see this. If any of them would. But here they are, mostly intact. They lost Spike. They might yet lose Robin. But against all odds, they’ve won. So Buffy sits, because for the first time in a long time, she can just sit.

 

After a while, she catches sight of someone in her peripheral vision, coming around the building the same way she did. Faith’s wearing the same dusty clothing she climbed out of the wreckage of Sunnydale High in, but she’s washed her face and pulled her hair back into a somewhat orderly ponytail. She makes her way toward Buffy, a tentative look on her face when she arrives. “This concrete taken?” She asks, gesturing with her toe toward the other half of the parking block.

 

Buffy shakes her head, and Faith takes a seat beside her. She stretches both legs out in front of her, rolling her ankles tiredly within her boots. They sit in companionable silence for a few moments. “Willow was looking for you,” Faith says neutrally. “Told her I’d go make sure you weren’t bleeding out in the parking lot.” She turns to squint at Buffy. “You’re not, are you?

 

Buffy shakes her head.

 

Faith nods like that satisfies her, turning so she’s facing back into the parking lot. “You okay?” 

 

She is, Buffy realizes in surprise. She really is. “I think I’m in shock,” she admits. “Did we just close the Hellmouth?”

 

Faith chuckles. “I think we did.”

 

“Huh,” Buffy says with the ghost of a smile, and lapses back into silence.

 

Faith sits with her a while, before she starts to grow restless. “I’ll tell her you’re fine,” she says, and starts to climb to her feet.

 

Buffy’s hand on her forearm makes her stop. When Faith looks down, Buffy squeezes. “Thanks,” she says, “for checking on me.”

 

“Sure,” Faith says, like this is totally normal behavior between them. Buffy lets go, and Faith heads back toward the emergency room, a little smile on her face.

 

XXXXX

 

Giles books them long-term rentals at the Sandyland Reef Inn. In spite of the name, it is definitely not the best the city of Carpinteria has to offer. In fact, it reminds Faith uncomfortably of the Motor Inn back in Sunnydale, but it’s a roof over her head and ground not caving under her feet, so Faith accepts the room key she’s offered. She doesn’t know what her long-term plan is, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else does either. The city of Sunnydale has been declared a disaster area by the federal government, and scientists are currently crawling all over the crater, trying to figure out what exactly would make an entire town collapse in on itself. Everyone who actually lived in Sunnydale is filling out paperwork and starting the long process of trying to get federal funding to help pull the pieces of their lives back together. The rest of them are free to head back to wherever they came from, and one by one, they begin to.

 

Chao-Ahn gets the first available flight back to Shanghai. Vi promises to walk her to her gate before catching her flight home to Rhode Island. Rona lets her guard down long enough to hug them goodbye, then she boards a bus bound for Chicago. Colleen and Shannon leave two days later. Faith stops keeping track of their destinations. The group whittles down further until only a handful of newbies remain with them. Faith nods and exchanges pleasantries, but mostly she minds her own business. Or she tries to.

 

Robin appears at her door, a week and a half after Sunnydale fell, and raps his knuckles lightly on the wood.

 

“Hey,” Faith says guardedly, although she opens the door wider to allow him in.

 

He comes in, still holding himself stiffly, and takes the seat she gestures to.

 

“What’s up?” She asks.

 

Robin settles back into the chair, careful not to tug the stitches holding his chest together. “I was thinking about our conversation,” he says, “from before.”

 

Faith knows where this is going, and she’s not looking forward to it. He’d told her that there were decent men in the world—that she needed to give one a chance to surprise her. The thing is, Faith believes there are generally decent men. She’s known a couple. She even believes he’s one of them, but she wasn’t entirely honest with him before. The fact that men have generally shown themselves to be dogs isn’t the only reason for her one and done policy.

 

Robin lifts his eyebrow. “I guess I can read my answer right on your face,” he says. “When you said you’d give me a shot, was that just because you thought we would die?”

 

Faith winces and shrugs apologetically. “Kind of,” she admits. She takes the seat across from him, leaning her elbows on the small table. “Look, you’re a good guy. One of the best I’ve met in a while.”

 

“But?”

 

Faith smiles, trying to be gentle about letting him down. “But I tried the love thing a long time ago, and when it didn’t work out, I got a little stabby. I think I’ve had my fill for the next decade or so.” She rubs her hands together nervously, never having admitted this out loud before. “Think I’m just gonna, you know, ‘date myself’ or whatever.”

 

Robin takes this in calmly, not looking entirely surprised. “Does she know?”

 

Faith’s surprised by how quickly he picked up on what she didn’t say, but there’s no sense in denying it. She just shakes her head.

 

She can tell he’s disappointed, but he nods all the same. “Well,” he says, “I came here to tell you Giles asked me to go to Cleveland, start organizing girls there.”

 

“Ah,” Faith says, not understanding.

 

“Just wanted to see if there was any reason to turn him down.”

 

“Oh,” she says, getting it now. She reaches out, touching the back of his hand where it rests on the table. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” he says, sliding his hand free and getting to his feet as quickly as his injuries allow.

 

She follows him to the door, and Wood pauses, his hand on the knob. “Take care of yourself, Faith.”

 

“You too,” she says, meaning it.

 

Robin opens the door and steps out. He waves goodbye and starts toward his room. She smiles when she hears him mutter, “Still prettier than you,” over his shoulder.

 

XXXXX

 

Buffy pats the stake tucked in her pocket reassuringly, and walks down the dimly lit outdoor hallway with practiced light steps. She pauses a moment when she reaches her destination, then lifts her hand and knocks softly on the door. A cool breeze tickles the hair draped over the still healing cut on her forehead, and she adjusts it self-consciously.

 

The door swings open, and Faith stands on the other side, wearing baggy pajamas pants and a tank top. “Buffy?” She asks, confused. She looks out past Buffy, as if expecting to see an emergency that drove her to the door.

 

“Hey,” Buffy says awkwardly, shifting her weight between her feet. “I was going to ask,” she pauses. “Sorry, were you sleeping?”

 

Faith shakes her head.

 

Buffy looks down, taking in Faith’s bare feet. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “Uh,” she says, “never mind. Sorry I came by so late.” She turns to go.

 

“Wait,” Faith says, reaching across the threshold to snag her sleeve. She drops it the moment Buffy looks back. “Are you going on patrol?” She asks, noticing the sensible footwear and smooth end of the stake poking from Buffy’s jacket pocket.

 

“Yeah,” Buffy says.

 

Faith leans against the doorway, crossing her arms over her stomach as the breeze picks up. “There’s girls like us all over the world now. You can take some time off, you know?”

 

“I know,” Buffy agrees. This feels like the point in the conversation where she’d traditionally just leave and go off on her own. She’s trying to work on that, so she says, “It just doesn’t feel right.”

 

Faith studies her for a minute, then she nods. “Come in,” she offers, pulling the door back further. “Let me get changed.”

 

“You don’t have to come with,” Buffy begins to say, but Faith’s already rummaging through the small duffel that holds all her spare clothing. She’s changed and pulling the door closed behind them in under three minutes. She looks at the road in front of the motel.

 

“Which way?”

 

Buffy points right. “There’s a cemetery not too far away.”

 

Faith motions for her to lead the way, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile. “You scoped out the local cemeteries?”

 

Buffy quirks an eyebrow back, leading the way out of the motel parking lot. “Faith, remember, the three key words for a slayer are preparation, preparation, preparation,” she says in an overwrought English accent.

 

Faith whistles appreciatively. “Wait til I tell Wesley his catchphrases weren’t wasted on you. It’ll make his day.”

 

“Don’t tell him then,” Buffy says with more vitriol than Faith’s expecting. She takes a right at the street, leaving room on the sidewalk for Faith to fall into step next to her.

 

The street isn’t any more charming at night than it is during the day. To their left, a precarious fence separates them from a frontage road. To the right, drooping plants try their best to soften the walls lining apartment complexes and outer edges of neighborhoods. A car cruises by, the driver slowing to check them out. Faith gives him a hard look, and the driver eases off the brakes. “What’d Wes do to get on your bad side?” She asks distractedly, making sure the car keeps putting distance between them.

 

She’s startled when Buffy’s index finger gently parts her hair to tap the side of her neck. “Willow told me how you got that,” Buffy says, dropping her hand back to her side.

 

Faith brings a hand to the fading scar on her neck. “It needed to be done,” she says.

 

Buffy gives her a sidelong glance. “I’m not saying it didn’t,” she says. “I just think Wesley should consider pumping himself full of drugs and letting Angelus bite him next time.”

 

A smile twitches across Faith’s lips. She’s pleasantly surprised by Buffy’s anger on her behalf. “Didn’t know you cared so much who bit me.”

 

Buffy rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Shut up,” she huffs, stepping into the space between them so she can dig her elbow into Faith’s side.

 

Faith dances out of the way easily. She smiles all the way to the cemetery.

 

XXXXX

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Buffy says, watching as Faith effortlessly finishes a butterfly kick that sends the vampire in front of her tumbling onto Buffy’s waiting stake.

 

Faith shakes the dust out of her hair and her jacket, looking speculatively up to the sky. They’re out earlier tonight than usual, squeezing in a patrol before the rain that’s supposed to roll in. She’s not in the mood to get her leather jacket wet tonight. “B, if this is about whether you should get bangs again, I told you, you’ll look hot either way.”

 

Buffy rolls her eyes, but she smiles. “Not what I was gonna say, but thank you.” She looks up at the sky too. “Should we head back?”

 

Faith nods, tucking her stake up her sleeve. “Let’s motor.”

 

They step together, starting quickly for the cemetery’s exit. “What were you thinking?” Faith asks after a minute.

 

Buffy glances at her. “I was thinking about that woman I met the night I killed Caleb, what she said about this group of Guardians who were watching over us.” They turn right out of the cemetery, back in the direction of their motel. “I think it’s a good idea.”

 

Faith frowns in confusion. “I thought you said she was the last one.”

 

“She was,” Buffy agrees, “but she doesn’t have to be.”

 

Faith waits for her to continue. This is one of those new Faith things that Buffy’s noticed since she’s been back. She still runs her mouth when the situation calls for it, but Faith’s more apt to wait for all the information these days. She gathers facts, listens to everyone’s opinions, mulls things over. She’s patient. Buffy’s still working on developing that skill. “We changed the way the slayer line works, forever,” Buffy says.

 

Faith nods.

 

“So why go back to the way it was before? Why restart the Council and give them control over the slayers again?” Buffy asks. “Look what they did to us when they had it. You were a kid, and they let you live in a motel by yourself. They didn’t even send you a real new Watcher. They put me through the cruciamentum,” Buffy adds, surprised to find that that still smarts.

 

“Well, the old Council is gone anyway,” Faith says agreeably. “We can build a new one, a better one.”

 

“Sure,” Buffy agrees.

 

The humid air feels heavy around them. Faith glances at Buffy, hearing the hesitation in her voice. “But…?”

 

“But,” Buffy says, “what if we don’t need the Council? Who’s better to train new slayers than us? We could be the Guardians, Faith, only we won’t wait in the shadows until the end of the world comes.” Buffy’s voice gets dreamier as she reveals more of her plan. “We could start a school for slayers. We train them. We teach them. We can still assign Watchers, so they get one on one mentoring, but they don’t have to work alone anymore. We could change the whole model.” Buffy puts more speed in her step as the first few raindrops dust across them. “She said they were a group of women who wanted to protect us. We could be that for the new slayers. No more shadow men; no more guys in suits telling us what to do. Women—slayers—protecting other slayers, teaching them.” Buffy looks at Faith, trying to gauge her reaction. “What do you think?”

 

Faith’s doing that mulling thing again. Buffy doesn’t rush her. Finally, Faith gives her a searching look. “Do we have to burn all our bras, or like, just one, symbolically?”

 

Buffy punches her lightly in the thigh. “Come on,” she says, flushing. “I’m serious.”

 

“Ow,” Faith says automatically, rubbing the spot where Buffy just hit. Buffy looks nervous waiting for her response, so Faith relents. “I think it’s a great idea.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Faith says, “I heard you back at the house. You were made for this kind of thing. You’ll be great at it. Headmistress Buffy or whatever.”

 

Buffy frowns, but before she can say anything else, the sky over them opens up and begins dumping sheets of rain on their heads.

 

“Damn it,” Faith hisses. “Come on!”

 

They break into a run, closing the distance between them and the motel faster than any mere mortal could hope to do. The slayer speed helps, but they’re still soaked to the skin by the time they dart under the overhang shielding the first floor’s walkway and doors.

 

Faith shucks off her jacket, shaking the water off of it with a frown.

 

“It’ll be fine,” Buffy reassures her.

 

“We’ll see,” Faith says, still frowning. She glances at her room, a few doors down from where they stand. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

Buffy’s room is the opposite way. She nods. “Sure,” she says.

 

Faith gets a few feet away before Buffy says, “Faith, wait.” She walks after Faith, keeping her voice low so she doesn’t disturb anyone in the darkened rooms behind them. “You said I’d be great at this slayer school thing.”

 

“You would,” Faith confirms.

 

Buffy looks down at her hands, then back up at Faith. “You would too,” she says.

 

Faith looks surprised, but she doesn’t immediately protest, which Buffy takes as a good sign.

 

“When I said ‘we’ should teach them,” Buffy clarifies, “I meant you and me.”

 

“Oh,” Faith says. She lets her jacket dangle at the end of her fingertips, her concern about the leather temporarily on the back burner. “I guess I thought you meant you and the gang.”

 

“Doesn’t that include you?”

 

“Traditionally?” Faith asks, shrugging. “Not really.”

 

“Okay,” Buffy agrees, “but it does now. After everything we’ve just been through…”

 

Faith tucks wet hair behind her ear. “I appreciate that, B,” she says. “You want me to help you guys out, I’ll be there.”

 

Starting to feel a little frustrated, Buffy shakes her head. “I don’t want you to ‘help me out,’” she says. “I wanna do this together, me and you. I want everyone there, but I need you.”

 

It takes a beat, but Faith’s face flickers from surprise to a kind of shy pleasure. “Okay,” she says.

 

“Okay?” Buffy confirms. Thunder rumbles nearby, and they both back up so they’re touching the motel wall.

 

Faith laughs. “Yeah,” she says, sounding happy, “okay. I don’t know a single thing about starting a school, but I’m in.” Water is dripping freely from the ends of her curling hair, and the rain has smudged her mascara.

 

Buffy grins.

 

“What?” Faith asks.

 

It’s not that she thinks closing the Hellmouth is a bad thing. They beat back the First Evil. They took destiny by the horns, or tentacles, or whatever appendages destiny has, and they slayed it. Slayers are all over the world now, and that’s great. It’s just that Buffy’s used to being The Slayer, singular. She’s felt a bit at odds, like she’s suddenly been laid off from her non-paying, likely to be fatal job, but this thing that they’re talking about, it feels big. She feels like she has a purpose again. She doesn’t want to admit to all that though, so she smiles bigger and says, “You look like a raccoon. ” She brings a thumb up to capture some of the wayward mascara below Faith’s eye.

 

“You look like a drowned rat,” Faith retorts. She reaches for the end of Buffy’s dripping ponytail and gives it a sharp tug.

 

Buffy steps into it, not letting Faith pull her off balance. The toe of her boot bumps Faith’s. “Harsh,” she says, mock hurt, pulling her hair free from Faith’s hand.

 

“Hey,” Faith says, “you made the animal comparison first.”

 

“Yeah, but raccoons are cute,” Buffy protests.

 

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m cute?” Faith raises both eyebrows in interest. She tilts her head, waiting for Buffy to get flustered.

 

Buffy rolls her eyes. “You know you are,” she says, intentionally not stepping back even though Faith’s very close to invading her space now.

 

“Trying to make me blush?” Faith asks, definitely not blushing. Her dimples come out as she smirks.

 

“I don’t see you blushing,” Buffy points out.

 

“Gotta look closer,” Faith advises.

 

Buffy looks at her, damp hair curling lazily around her face, brown eyes twinkling. This isn’t the first opening Faith’s given her, but it’s the first time she feels brave enough to take it. Buffy puts her hands on Faith’s shoulders, pushing her slowly but firmly back against the concrete wall. “Close enough?” She asks, leaning in. Her jacket brushes Faith’s belt buckle.

 

“Little closer,” Faith says softly.

 

Buffy’s knee bumps its way between Faith’s. She’s close enough that she can see Faith’s pulse thrumming in her throat. Faith’s hands find her waist and squeeze tightly. Buffy’s thumb brushes past the collar of her t-shirt, finding warm skin. A soft pink flush spreads up Faith’s neck. “Huh,” Buffy murmurs, “think you might be blushing after all.”

 

“Told you,” Faith has time to retort, before Buffy comes all the way in and presses soft lips to that spot on her neck.

 

Faith’s breath is a strangled whimper in her throat. She’s played this game with Buffy countless times before, but it’s never gone this far. She has to admit that she’s the one who’s always trying to push Buffy’s buttons. She never leaves an innuendo unsaid, never misses an opportunity to make Buffy blush. Sure, when they were younger, she hoped Buffy would see through the charade and that there was a chance she was interested in Faith. These days she knows that’s not going to happen, but she keeps up the act with Buffy because it’s what she does.

 

This is not what Buffy does. This is so far out of the realm of what Buffy does that Faith almost wants to check her for signs of body snatching. Buffy smiles against her neck, brushing her lips across the same spot, and Faith’s hands convulse on her waist.

 

She wants to shove Buffy away. She wants to tangle her fist in her hair and kiss her until she can’t breathe. Faith can’t see how to extricate herself from this situation she created without admitting to all of this. Buffy’s blunt teeth scrape the side of her neck, and Faith squeezes her eyes shut. “Don’t play with me,” she finally says, trying to keep her voice from sounding like she’s pleading. I can’t take it, she doesn’t say.

 

Buffy leans back to look at her, intending to tease her, to ask what happened to the game Faith was playing a few seconds ago. Faith’s face stops her short. The hands around her waist dig a little too hard into her lower back. Both their heartbeats pound louder than the falling rain.

 

Faith doesn’t let herself be vulnerable in front of almost anyone, but she’s never had much of a poker face. Now is no exception. The truth that Buffy always suspected but never felt ready to admit to herself is written as plain as day on Faith’s face. She looks wrecked. She’s not smiling. This is real. This isn’t a game for her and it never has been. Faith’s dark eyes search Buffy’s face.

 

Don’t play with me, Faith said. If Buffy kisses her now, this won’t be something she can take back. She knows that. This can’t be like she left it with Spike, unnamed and unexamined, something to be put off until later. Faith’s offered her a cracked open door. Buffy can choose to leave it or to kick it open.

 

Buffy cups Faith’s face with both hands, sliding her fingers into the soft damp hair plastered to her neck. The muscles under her fingers are tense, unyielding. She leans closer, lets her lips ghost over Faith’s jaw.

 

“Buffy,” Faith whispers her name like a plea, but she makes no move to push her back.

 

Buffy doesn’t know if it’s a plea for her to stay or go, so she answers it the way she sees fit. She touches her mouth to Faith’s, softly at first, then firmer, to show she isn’t playing either.

Faith’s arms move without her permission, sliding up Buffy’s back, gathering her in and holding her there like she can’t bear to let go. And she can’t. How many different ways has she imagined this? How many times did she watch that little tube of vanilla lip-gloss glide over Buffy’s lips and fervently wish she could taste it, just for a second? She’s sandwiched between Buffy and the crumbling wall of this motel that doesn’t look like it’s ever even seen better days, and nothing she ever imagined compared to this. Her fingertips brush the back of Buffy’s neck, and goosebumps crop up in their wake. Faith’s hands are shaking—from nervousness, from unrestrained joy, from the effort of not sliding under Buffy’s ass, picking her up, and carrying her across the threshold into Faith’s room.

 

She tries to rein in her body, slow down the greedy, borderline teenage, sweep of her mouth against Buffy’s. Tell her lungs to stop breathing like they’ve just finished a transatlantic swim. Then Buffy’s lips are parting, her tongue lapping softly against Faith’s bottom lip.

 

Faith quivers, caged against the wall, as their tongues meet hesitantly. Buffy’s hands come back to her shoulders, thumbs tracing slow, delicate circles on the skin of her collarbones. Faith loses track of time, of the rain around them, of everything except Buffy’s hands and her mouth.

 

She probably wouldn’t have heard the door to the room directly above them opening, were it not for Buffy suddenly freezing in her arms. They both loosen their holds and look up. Someone begins shuffling down the hall, slow measured steps that make them both relax. It’s not an emergency. No one will be looking for them. Buffy drops her eyes from the ceiling and cracks a shy smile. She notices suddenly that Faith’s jacket is crumpled on the ground at their feet. “Your jacket,” she says.

 

“Not my top priority,” Faith says with a crooked smile. Buffy’s seen this smile before, but it’s been a long time. She feels butterflies stir in her stomach.

 

The footsteps are shuffling back toward the room they originated from. The miniscule noise of ice cubes sliding on plastic is easily audible to them.

 

“I should let you get to bed,” Faith says reluctantly, as if she’s the one holding Buffy against the wall and not the other way around.

 

Buffy nods her agreement, but rather than stepping back, she melts against Faith. Buffy presses into her arms like it’s the only place she wants to be in the world, her face in Faith’s neck, breathing hard, arms around her neck.

 

Faith’s not sure she’s ever let anyone hold on to her like this, but it doesn’t feel wrong. She rests her nose in strawberry scented blonde hair.

 

She misses the warmth of Buffy against her as soon as they step apart.

 

Buffy’s fingers linger on her wrist, cold metal rings soothing against Faith’s skin. “Walk me to my door?”

 

“Sure,” Faith says. She stoops to pick up her forgotten jacket. They walk close together on the shielded pavement. Buffy’s in a single room at the east end of the first floor. She pulls the ancient room key from her pocket, bright orange key fob flashing in the dark. She unlocks the door and reaches in to flick the light on. She turns on the threshold, and Faith waits, unsure if Buffy’s going to invite her in, unsure if she wants to be invited in.

 

Buffy doesn’t ask her to come in, but she does kiss her again, quick this time. Faith feels the tips of her ears go warm all the same. She wishes Buffy a good night and waits until the door is closed safely behind her. Then she walks on air all the way back to her room.

 

Chapter 2

Buffy doesn’t invite her in, but she does kiss her again, quick this time. Faith feels the tips of her ears go warm all the same. She wishes Buffy a good night and waits until the door is closed safely behind her. Then she walks on air all the way back to her room.

 

Chapter Two

 

Faith knocks on the door to Buffy’s room, nervously smoothing down her shirt. She didn’t have a ton of clothes to her name before she went back to Sunnydale, and her stock is even more depleted now. Still, she’s tried to look nice. Her black t-shirt is crisp and unwrinkled, her jeans free from tears. She’s spent more time on her hair than usual, and she runs her fingers through it now, willing it to stay smooth and this side of wild.

 

Buffy opens her door with a shy smile. “Hey,” she says, stepping back and motioning Faith inside.

 

Faith comes in, hands stuffed in her pockets so they won’t be tempted to do something crazy like slam Buffy against the door and kiss her.

 

The door closes behind them, and Buffy sits down at the small table below the window. Handwritten notes and lists are strewn over its surface. “I started brainstorming about the school last night,” she explains. “I was kind of amped up and couldn’t go right to sleep.”

 

Faith raises an eyebrow as she sits across from her, and Buffy immediately flushes. “Not like that!” She says.

 

A dimple starts to reveal itself on Faith’s cheek as she stays silent. She’s learned through experience that the longer she stays quiet, the further Buffy will dig herself into whatever hole she’s started.

 

“Not that I wasn’t—umm, amped up,” Buffy says, her voice lowering on the last part. “I mean, we were patrolling, and you’re a good kisser, and,” she stops suddenly, narrowing her eyes at Faith. “You’re letting me babble on purpose.”

 

Faith’s eyes sparkle. “I wanna hear more about how amped you were.”

 

Buffy leans across the table to slap at Faith’s arm, but Faith catches her hand easily and folds hers around it. She settles their joined hands on the table. “Tell me what you were working on,” she says, giving Buffy a break.

 

Buffy does, managing to concentrate on her plans in spite of the warmth of Faith’s hand covering hers. She’s outlined the first steps toward creating a school for slayers. Each of them can contribute something different, assuming the gang all buy into this idea.

 

Faith listens patiently, thumb occasionally stroking the back of Buffy’s hand. When Buffy pauses for breath, Faith takes the opportunity to ask, “What’s my job?”

 

“Well,” Buffy says, “right now I guess it’s coming up with plans with me. But there was something I was thinking about.”

 

“Okay,” Faith says, waiting.

 

“Some of the girls who were activated are already older than we were when we were called,” Buffy says, “so they probably wouldn’t come and stay full time with us. Plus we need people on the ground in different hot spots.”

 

Faith thinks about it, nodding. “Like Cleveland.”

 

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees. “So, I was thinking, anyone who’s of age and volunteers could work in a team in Cleveland, or London, or Shanghai, or wherever they’re needed.”

 

“Slaying as a team sport,” Faith says. “I like it.”

 

Buffy grins, pleased.

 

“Where do I come in?” Faith asks. Buffy’s taking a while to get to that part, and Faith’s starting to think she knows why. Sure, Buffy had said she wanted them to do this together, but maybe that meant she’d handle the slayer school stuff and Faith would handle the fieldwork. It’s a smart idea, and before last night, she would have been thrilled to do it. It’s just that she allowed herself to start to hope that maybe her feelings for Buffy could eventually be reciprocated. Trying not to show her disappointment, Faith clears her throat and releases Buffy’s hand.

 

Buffy’s confused by the sudden change in Faith’s demeanor, but she answers. “I thought you’d train the team leaders before we send them out. We can open it up to any of the slayers who want to come, but for the team leaders I think it would really help if they come to us and get some serious training before we cut them loose.”

 

Faith’s confused now too. “They’ll come to the school?”

 

Buffy nods. “I thought that would be easiest. Plus, the two most experienced slayers in the world are going to be at the school, so they kind of have to come to us, right?”

 

“Right,” Faith says, perking up immediately.

 

“So that’s a yes?” Buffy confirms.

 

“You’re sure you want me to be the one training them?” Faith asks a little uncertainly.

 

“You’re the best fighter I know,” Buffy says.

 

Surprise blooms on Faith’s face. She starts to say thanks, when Buffy grins wickedly.

 

“After me, of course,” Buffy clarifies. “I’m happy to show up to a few classes, give you some pointers.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Faith says, “You wanna throw down right now? We’ll see who needs pointers from who.”

 

Buffy looks around her tiny room in dismay. “I don’t think Giles will be pleased if he has to pay to replace all this expensive décor after I smash your face into it.”

 

Faith smirks. “Big talk for someone who’s afraid to spar.”

 

“Maybe I can just think of better uses of our time than slaying the lamps.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Pushing her chair back from the table, Buffy gets to her feet and steps to Faith’s chair. Faith barely has time to look up before Buffy deposits herself firmly in her lap, straddling her legs. “You done trash talking?” She asks.

 

Faith considers. “Could probably think—”

 

The rest of her sentence is forgotten when Buffy’s lips meet hers. Sweet smelling blonde hair tickles her cheeks. Buffy shifts closer, thighs squeezing around Faith’s hips.

 

“How about now?” Buffy asks breathlessly when they pull apart.

 

Her hands already on Buffy’s hips, Faith shakes her head. “I got nothing.”

 

“Good,” Buffy says with a soft smile.

 

They look at each other, grinning like idiots. “I’ve been thinking about this since last night,” Faith admits quietly.

 

“What were you thinking?” Buffy asks, one hand beginning to toy with Faith’s hair.

 

Faith laughs a little. “Gotta be honest, I wasn’t totally sure I didn’t get hit by some sort of hallucination causing demon when we were out last night. I really wasn’t expecting this.”

 

“You mean the good kind of demonic hallucination, right?”

 

Faith runs her fingertips lightly up Buffy’s spine and back down. “The best damn hallucination I ever had.”

 

“Same,” Buffy says, and she actually has experience with hallucinogenic demons.

 

Faith leans in this time, bringing their lips together. It’s different somehow, when she initiates the kiss. Feeling Buffy part her perfect lips when Faith’s tongue prods gently forward. Feeling how pliable she is when Faith tugs her waist in closer, so they’re chest to chest. Logically, she knows that the fact that Buffy kissed her in the first place means that she’s more than likely going to be open to Faith initiating the same, but there’s a tiny part of her brain that is afraid to move things off of Buffy’s terms, like maybe Buffy’s still feeling this out, and the second Faith portrays too much interest, she’ll take a step back. Buffy’s not doing anything that makes her think this, it’s just what years of being Faith Lehane have taught her. Don’t let anyone else know you’re hoping for something. Then you won’t be disappointed.

 

Buffy seems content to follow Faith’s lead, so Faith tries telling that voice to shut up. She’s got a lap full of Buffy Summers. It doesn’t get any better than this. She should be able to put everything else out of her mind. Unfortunately, in spite of years of practice, she’s never quite mastered the fine art of repression. When they pause for breath, Faith speaks up. “Can I ask you something?” She asks, looking as shy as Buffy’s ever seen her.

 

“Sure,” Buffy agrees, looking at ease in Faith’s lap.

 

Part of Faith is afraid to ask this question, but there’s another part that whispers that the answer is important. “Why now?” She asks cautiously. She slides her hands down both of Buffy’s thighs. “All this,” she clarifies. “Are we just letting off some steam?”

 

Buffy doesn’t brush off the question. She takes a minute to consider it, hands soft and relaxed on Faith’s shoulders. She seems to decide this is going to be more than a quick interruption to kissing, because she stands up. She sits back in her previous chair, and Faith curses her stupid brain for starting them down a road that leads away from making out.

 

“When Angel came to give me the amulet, we talked a little,” Buffy says, “about the future. About our relationship.”

 

“I guess his arm isn’t tired yet from carrying that torch,” Faith mutters darkly.

 

Buffy half smiles at her words. “Anyway,” she says pointedly, “it got me thinking, about what I want, how I see things going.”

 

Faith doesn’t interrupt, just listens with her hands very still in her lap.

 

“Everything can be different now,” Buffy says. “We could live to see 30. We could have families if we want. We can do anything, be anything, we want now.”

 

“And what you wanted was to try girl on girl?” Faith asks, confused.

 

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I want to start over,” she says. “I want to stop being afraid of everything.”

 

“You’ve never been afraid of anything in your life,” Faith scoffs, knowing first hand that Buffy runs headlong toward any scrap of danger she finds.  

 

Buffy shakes her head. “I was afraid of you,” she admits. “You were right, back then. You said everything in the ugliest way possible, but you were right. I was afraid of how much like you I was.”

 

“I wasn’t right,” Faith says flatly. “You weren’t like me, B. You were good.”

 

Buffy looks at her honestly. “You were good, too,” she says. In spite of everything that happened between them, she’s always believed that somewhere deep down. Did she think Faith was crazy? Vicious? Deserved to be locked up? Yeah, she’s thought all that and then some, but she’s never thought that Faith is evil.

 

“California penal code doesn’t exactly see eye to eye with you on that,” Faith says.

 

“My point is,” Buffy says, “I’m still figuring it out. Who I am. How to live in the world like a normal person—like you said. But when I think about what that looks like, this feels right. I’m done being afraid. I’m done running away from whatever this is between us. I’m in if you’re in.” Buffy pauses for a second. “We might kill each other, but I’m ready to take that chance.”

 

Faith laughs softly, her hands coming back to life in her lap. She rubs them on her jeans, nervously. “Okay,” she says, “I’m in.”

 

“That’s it?” Buffy asks. “That’s all you have to say?”

 

“What else is there?” Faith asks. “Never said I was a genius, but I’m not an idiot. I’ve wanted you since like four minutes after I met you. If you’re in, I’m in.”

 

Buffy’s smile lights up the room. Faith’s chair creaks dangerously when Buffy all but jumps back into her lap.

 

Faith’s fingertips skim under the back of her shirt, as Buffy’s hands take up position on Faith’s shoulders. It feels right, Buffy thinks. It feels like this is where she’s supposed to be. Like everything they did to each other, every horrible thing, can finally be in the past where it belongs. Like they’re turning a corner. Together. Then Faith tilts her chin up, lips parting, and Buffy takes her hint, and stops thinking.

 

XXXXX

 

Willow takes a swig of the free coffee offered in the motel’s lobby. She grimaces at the taste, but swallows it down. Kennedy shakes her head, impressed. Her own cup is pushed away, her first sip having been spit back out immediately. The breakfast crowd has trickled out, leaving just the eight of them in the large space.

 

Her magic has completely rebounded, almost like she hadn’t worked what has to rank as one of the most powerful spells in the history of the known multiverse. Better still, she feels not even a tug of interest toward the dark arts. She doesn’t have to do magic, and when she does, she doesn’t feel like she’s giving up any part of herself to do it. In a way, it’s like the slayer spell set her free too.

 

The magic might be running on a full tank, but her body is still tired from the months of near constant stress and the running for their lives. And the very exuberant newly powered slayer who’s keeping her up late at night. Not that she’s complaining! She’s alive and partaking in the exuberance and it’s all very of the good. It does make for very sleepy mornings though. This is probably why it takes a subtle nudge of Xander’s foot under the table for her to really notice what’s going on in front of her.

 

She’s across from Buffy, watching her talk through their plans for the first Slayer Academy. Buffy’s animated in a way Willow hasn’t seen in a long time—too long. Beside her, Faith has a yellow notepad splayed open on the table. She’s writing things down as Buffy talks. Willow leans in slightly, eyeing the paper. She’s got columns for each of them with next steps listed. Very organized, Willow thinks, and then narrows her eyes. She glances at Xander. He gives her a pointed look and a head tilt that says keep watching.

 

Faith addresses her, making Willow shift her attention back guiltily. She’s never been one to be distracted in class. “We want to offer some classes on magic,” Faith says. “Defensive spells, whatever basics you think Watchers should have. Maybe something more advanced for people who show promise.” She glances at Buffy who nods excitedly. Clearly they’ve talked this out before now. “Obviously you can’t do all of it. We thought the Coven might help.”

 

“Of course,” Willow says, looking to Giles for confirmation. “We can reach out to them right away.”

 

Buffy touches Faith’s arm, leaning over her to look at the notes she’s been taking. “Didn’t we have something else for Will?”

 

They’re touching. They’re touching without violence. They’ve created a business plan. This is not something she expected from Buffy, let alone Buffy and Faith working together. As Faith scans the list in front of her, Willow whips her head back toward Xander. He nods frantically.

 

Faith taps the notepad with her pen, and Willow snaps back to attention. “Curriculum,” Faith says.

 

Buffy nods. “If we’re asking these girls to come to us, we have to be a real school. We need regular classes, not just slayer stuff.”

 

Willow agrees.

 

“Besides,” Buffy says, “Dawn’s school collapsed into hell and she needs to graduate.” She holds up a hand to ward off Dawn’s immediate protest. “Willow is not going to hack Sunnydale High’s records and assign you a fake diploma, for the last time.”

 

Dawn sits back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.

 

“I can start looking at curriculum,” Willow agrees. “It’ll be easier when we know where we’re going. Different places have different criteria you have to meet to graduate.”

 

“I think that brings us to Xander,” Buffy says.

 

Xander sits up straight, cheeks faintly pink. “Mi capitan,” he says.

 

Buffy smiles fondly at him. “We need property, lots of it, and we need room for everyone to live. Can you be in charge of that?”

 

“Absolutely,” he says. “One question.”

 

“How are we going to pay for this?” Buffy guesses.

 

They all nod.

 

“Well, we should have one completely destroyed house,” Buffy points to herself and Dawn. “One hell bound condo,” she points to Giles. “Whatever else insurance or FEMA will pay us back for. If we all pool our resources, and we shoot for an area that’s a little more affordable…”

 

“I have some money,” Faith cuts in nervously.

 

Buffy looks as surprised as the rest of them, so Willow doesn’t think this is something they’ve discussed before.

 

The tempo of Faith’s tapping pen increases. She looks down at the notepad, then back squarely at Buffy. “The boss’s entire estate went to me when he died,” she admits.

 

Willow’s eyes widen, going to Buffy, already anticipating the response she’s sure to have to this news.

 

“I’ve never touched it,” Faith adds hurriedly. She doesn’t look at any of them, only Buffy. “I never wanted it. It’s… tainted. I get that.” She puts the pen down, pulls her hand into her lap. “But if we could use it for this, something to help girls like us, maybe it can do some good.”

 

All eyes in the room are on Buffy. If this were even a few weeks ago, Willow could see her blowing up at learning that Faith’s the recipient of Wilkins’s estate. Today, Buffy takes a moment to digest this knowledge. Her lips are thin, eyes narrowed a little in thought. Finally, she says, “Thank you.”

 

Faith relaxes, looking relieved.

 

Buffy looks at Giles. “Can you help us figure out the accounting part? I’m assuming we set ourselves up as a business somehow, and then Faith can transfer the money to our new account.”

 

Giles also looks perplexed at Buffy’s lack of a meltdown, but he nods immediately. “Of course,” he says. “I think I have a few connections from the Council who survived the First’s attack. I’ll see if any of them could assist with this.”

 

Buffy nods, but she looks less enthusiastic now.

 

“What is it?” Giles asks, noticing.

 

Buffy hesitates, clearly trying to think of a delicate way to say something. She says, “The Council, historically, has spent a lot of its time thinking of fun new ways to keep slayers under their thumb. Reach out to anyone you trust,” she adds, “but make sure they know we’re not creating a new Council.”

 

Giles tries to follow her logic. “We’re going to gather the slayers and train them,” he points out. “We talked about hiring Watchers for them.”

 

Faith answers this time. “Watchers that we train first,” she stresses. “All this stuff that we’ve been talking about is just the basics. We need a place to live, people to teach the girls, but ultimately, it’s gonna be more. We aren’t teaching them to fight our battles for us while we stay safe in our ivory towers. No more barbaric tests, no forcing them to live in secrecy, no snatching toddlers from their playpens and sending them to live with stuffy old English dudes. No offense, G.”

 

“None taken,” Giles says dryly.

 

“The Council never cared about the slayers,” Buffy says. “They used us. And that stops now.”

 

“I see,” Giles says.

 

“I don’t mean you, Giles,” Buffy says gently. “You know that.”

 

“I do,” he agrees. He smiles proudly at Buffy. “And I think it’s brilliant.”

 

She beams back.

 

“What can I do?” Dawn asks, leaning over Faith’s shoulder to see what’s written in her column.

 

“Show up to class and try to graduate,” Buffy answers, reaching across Faith to cover the paper. “Make your big sister proud.”

 

“Seriously,” Dawn whines.

 

Faith intercedes on her behalf, prying Buffy’s fingers off the notepad. “She’s messing with you.”

 

“I’m not,” Buffy says, “graduate or I’ll—”

 

Faith keeps talking as if Buffy hasn’t interrupted. “We need you to find the ones who were activated by Willow’s spell.”

 

Dawn has been sticking her tongue out at her sister, but retracts it quickly. “Me?” She squeaks.

 

“You,” Faith confirms.

 

Dawn looks at Buffy in surprise. Buffy shrugs, smiling. “You’re like a human Rosetta Stone and you know what we’re looking for,” she says. “Go forth and scour the internet for signs of new slayers.” Dawn starts to bounce excitedly in her seat. Buffy holds up a hand to stop her. “But, you still have to go to school.”

 

“Deal!” Dawn says, her excitement completely untempered.

 

“I wanna help too,” Kennedy offers.

 

Buffy and Faith look at one another. Buffy shrugs. Kennedy wasn’t part of the initial plan, mostly because Buffy keeps hoping she’s going to decide to go home instead of staying with them. “She can help with recruitment,” Faith suggests, “once we start identifying girls. Ken can make sure they’re the real deal and tell them what we’re about.”

 

“I can do that,” Kennedy says, seeming pleased to have a job.

 

“What about me?” Andrew asks excitedly.

 

Andrew was also not part of their initial discussion, but Buffy thinks on the fly. “Uh,” she says, “food planning?”

 

Andrew pumps his fist as though this is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. “Thank you!” He gushes. “I’ll make you so proud.”

 

“I’m sure,” Buffy says.

 

“I can also be in charge of leisure activities,” he offers excitedly, “if you didn’t have someone else in mind.”

 

There’s a pause. “Like a cruise director?” Faith asks.

 

“Yes,” Andrew says in an extremely serious voice. “Just like that, Faith. I will be your cruise director.”

 

“Okay...” Faith says, thinking for not the first time how strange this man is. She looks at Buffy, who just shrugs.

 

“I think that’s everything for now,” Buffy says. “What are we thinking? Doable?”

 

“Doable,” Xander says, and the rest of them nod along. “I’ll start looking for a good place right away.”

 

“Thank you, guys,” Buffy says. “I know this is a big ask, and you didn’t sign up to spend the rest of your lives doing slay stuff.”

 

“I basically did,” Giles offers.

 

“I definitely signed up,” Willow says. “Xander, didn’t we sign something pledging our undying fealty to slay stuff?”

 

“I believe we did,” Xander agrees, “probably around the time we found out that without slay stuff we were kinda gay vampires who enjoyed S&M.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Willow says wistfully. “Leather bustier Willow. Those were the days.”

 

“I’m sensing there’s a story here,” Kennedy says, leering slightly. “You should definitely tell me all the details. Maybe use visual aids.”

 

Giles is on his feet by the time she’s done speaking. “And with that, I think I’ll go back to my room and pour bleach in my ears.”

 

As Giles makes his exit, the breakfast room devolves into side conversations. Buffy lifts her arms over her head, trying to stretch out her back. She’d landed uncomfortably on a tombstone the night before. She arches her back, rolling her neck from side to side.

 

Faith’s incessant tapping has finally stopped, pen limp between her fingers as she stares openly at Buffy.

 

“Do you really think...” Xander says in a whisper so quiet Willow almost can’t hear him at all.

 

She glances at the slayers, but neither of them seem to have heard him over the volume of Kennedy and Dawn arguing over which country would be the best to start the slayer search in.

 

Faith’s giving Buffy a very pointed eyebrow as Buffy brings her arms back down.

 

“What?” Buffy asks innocently.

 

Willow turns toward Xander, barely murmuring her response, “Oh, my God.”

 

“What?” Faith repeats. She raises her arms over her head, thrusting her chest forward as she leans her head back and shakes out her hair. Buffy’s eyes are drawn immediately to her chest. As are Willow’s.

 

“I was stretching! Not like that!” Buffy says defensively.

 

“I could help you stretch,” Faith offers lavisciously.

 

Buffy hits her arm.

 

Xander gets to his feet, holding his coffee cup strategically in front of him with both hands. “Gonna get started on stuff! Bye guys!”

 

The Slayers barely glance over. Andrew hops into Xander’s abandoned seat and smiles brightly at Willow. “I’d like to talk to you about kosher meals,” he says.

 

Willow sighs. This is going to be a very long day.

 

XXXXX

 

“Hey,” Faith says, later that night when they’ve finished patrol and slipped back inside Buffy’s room. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, about the money.”

 

Buffy looks up from the dresser, where she’s been methodically placing her weapons as she pulls them from hiding places in her clothes. She’s known all day that something was on Faith’s mind. She’s been a little quieter, a little less at ease with Buffy on patrol. She didn’t know it was this exactly, but something was definitely going on. “Why didn’t you?” She asks neutrally.

 

Faith shrugs off her jacket and hangs it over the back of the chair before sitting on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t planning to use the money, so I guess I figured why bring it up? It’s not like you needed more reasons not to trust me.”

 

Buffy hasn’t been angry at Faith, really angry, for a long time. Coming back from the dead has a way of really putting things into perspective. But she also wasn’t really chomping at the bit to get back in the same space with Faith and resume all the weird mixed signals and crossed wires that seemed to follow the two of them. If they hadn’t needed to pull out every available stop to beat the First, she doesn’t know when she would have seen Faith again. So she sees why Faith was afraid to tell her. It’s not like Buffy’s been the president of the We Trust Faith club. “I get it,” she says.  

 

Faith still looks bothered. “You sure?” She asks.

 

Buffy divests herself of her jacket and sits down beside her on the bed, leaning down to untie her laces. “Yeah,” she answers, “and for the record, I wouldn’t have agreed to ask for your help if I didn’t think we could trust you.”

 

Faith doesn’t make a move to take off her own shoes. “Figured that was desperation,” she says.

 

Buffy inclines her head, sitting back up. “Well, yes, we were desperate, but not so desperate that we’d have pulled you in if we didn’t know you were on our side.”

 

Faith acknowledges her words with a nod, hands resting on her knees. “I wasn’t so sure,” she says. “I mean, you didn’t give me a heads up that the First was trying to end the slayer line. I kind of figured I was still on the ‘sworn enemies’ list until you ran out of other options.”

 

Buffy looks surprised for a moment, then reaches for Faith’s hand. “Faith…”

 

Faith shakes her head. “I’m not mad, that’s not what I’m… I just mean, I didn’t take it as a sign of trust, that you needed me in Sunnydale. Figured it was just convenient because I was already out.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Buffy says sincerely. “We really didn’t think anyone could get to you, where you were.”

 

Faith nods again, not trying to pull her hand away from Buffy.

 

“Do you really think I wouldn’t have warned you if I thought you were in danger?” Buffy asks.

 

Faith shrugs, and Buffy’s stomach feels like lead. Clearly that’s what she does think. “I didn’t know,” Buffy assures her. “Honestly, Faith.”

 

“It’s fine,” Faith says. “I just want to make sure we’re cool, about the money.”

 

“And I just want to make sure you know I wouldn’t leave you to die in prison,” Buffy says back incredulously.

 

They stare at each other for a moment, both frustrated. Finally, Buffy cracks a tentative, small smile. “I guess we’re both still working on trusting each other,” she says.

 

“I guess so,” Faith agrees. She tucks her hair behind her ear with her free hand. “Look, B,” she starts. “I’ve been wanting this a long time. I guess I’m just scared of fucking it up.”

 

“You’ll definitely fuck it up,” Buffy says back immediately. At Faith’s taken aback face, she laughs. “We both will. That’s kind of what we do best, when it comes to each other.” Her thumb rubs softly over Faith’s knuckles.

 

Faith turns toward her, pulling her knee up onto the bed so she’s facing Buffy. “And you still wanna do this?”

 

Buffy nods resolutely. “Yeah,” she says. “I do.”

 

Faith leans in then and kisses her. “Me too,” she says.

Notes:

So... what happened was, I went to edit chapter 2 and I added something, and... now it is three chapters. Oops. Self control, how does it work?? :D :D

Chapter 3

Faith turns toward her, pulling her knee up onto the bed so she’s facing Buffy. “And you still wanna do this?”

 

Buffy nods resolutely. “Yeah,” she says. “I do.”

 

Faith leans in then and kisses her. “Me too,” she says.

 

Chapter Three

 

Xander’s got a lead on some property in Wyoming. Buffy never really imagined herself living somewhere like Wyoming, but she’s open to trying something new. The great thing about your entire life being sucked into the mouth of hell is that you have nothing but new opportunities awaiting you. For instance, she, Willow, and Dawn had spent several hours earlier that day exploring new opportunities at the mall. A girl always feels better when she has more than four pairs of underwear to her name.

 

They head for Wyoming in a few days, planning to tour the property and hopefully get the ball rolling. Willow and Giles’s connections in the Devon Coven are more than willing to help with classes, and they also offer help in identifying slayers through magical means. They have two former Council members ready to join them when they’re settled, both women Giles trusts and believes can be a good fit for their new mission. All in all, things are coming together and they deserve a treat. Also, Buffy’s looking for a opportunity to show off her new shoes.

 

Kennedy and Dawn are underage, so real bars are out. They end up in a pool hall that smells like people have been chain smoking in it since the 1960s. But it has cheap beer on tap, and pizza that looks like they probably won’t get food poisoning, so they grab a table in the corner of the mostly empty hall and settle down to enjoy themselves.

 

Buffy may be a little overdressed, but if the way Faith’s eyes traveled up and down her body when they met up in the parking lot is anything to go by, she’s not too worried about it. There hadn’t been room for more than the most practical of items when they’d put a few bags on the school bus back in Sunnydale, so she’d splurged a little at the mall. She’s wearing high-heeled sandals, tight jeans, and a lacy, low cut black blouse. A long silver chain dangles over her cleavage, and she sees Faith’s eyes following it more than once before Faith snaps her gaze back to safe places.

 

Buffy knows the feeling. Faith’s in her trademark tank top and jeans, heavy boots on her feet, denim jacket discarded at the table when they start playing pool. She doesn’t need jewelry to draw Buffy’s eyes to her chest, not when she’s leaning over to line up her shots. Buffy’s not so focused on the peeks she’s getting of Faith’s bra that she doesn’t notice how much snickering Willow and Xander are doing together, but she can’t bring herself to care enough to find out what’s so funny.

 

Buffy’s never claimed to be good at pool, so she’s happy to beg off playing and watch the rest of them attempt it. Andrew is surprisingly good, and after the first round, Faith picks him for her partner, much to his delight. Andrew sinks three of his shots in a row, right off the bat, and Faith almost drops her beer in her enthusiasm to congratulate him.

 

“Andy,” she crows, “you’re a fucking shark!”

 

Andrew blushes and pitches forward as she claps him heavily on the back. Faith keeps him upright, then makes her way to where Buffy is seated at the high top table, feet hooked in the chair rungs.

 

“Did you see that?” Faith asks, practically bouncing up to her. “He’s killing it!”

 

“Who knew he had a hidden talent for pool?” Buffy asks, grinning.

 

Faith drapes her arm across the back of Buffy’s chair, fingertips brushing her shoulder blade as they settle. They both watch as Willow begins the painstaking process of lining up her shot.

 

“You sure you don’t wanna play?” Faith asks, a little lower, her voice pleasantly soft. She keeps the distance between them casual, but out of sight of everyone else, she lightly strokes Buffy’s back.

 

“I’m good,” Buffy confirms, leaning back slightly against her hand. “I have money riding on this though, so if you could win, that would be appreciated.”

 

Faith raises an eyebrow.

 

“Kennedy’s betting on Willow and Xander winning, and I told her the only way that would happen is if Willow is cheating with magic again.”

 

Faith’s eyes narrow on Willow. “She does that?”

 

“I do not do that,” Willow calls back. “And I can hear you!”

 

“I’m watching her, Faith!” Andrew assures his teammate.

 

Faith snorts.

 

Willow frowns, still mentally working on the shot she hasn’t taken. “Xander, pinch Buffy.”

 

“No, ma’am,” he says immediately. “I fear her.”

 

“A wise decision,” Buffy assures him. She turns to Faith. “So, you got this or what?”

 

Willow finally makes her move, and whoops when the solid 4 sinks cleanly into the corner pocket closest to them.

 

Faith considers for a moment. “Am I getting some of your winnings?” She asks.

 

“Of course,” Buffy says. Trying to keep her voice too low for the others to hear, she adds, “You’ll be rewarded later.”

 

“God, I hope that means you’re giving her half of the $5 we bet,” Kennedy says in a long-suffering voice, arriving back at the table with two sodas. Dawn follows behind her with a giant bowl of nachos.

 

“Sustenance,” Buffy moans, ignoring Kennedy and reaching greedy hands toward Dawn.

 

“You ate almost a whole pizza by yourself already,” Dawn points out, keeping the nacho bowl from her sister’s reach.

 

Behind them, Willow curses as she misses her next shot. Faith steals a particularly gooey nacho from the bowl before she walks away, licking her fingers. “It’s in the bag,” she says to Buffy with a mouth full of nacho.

 

Faith thinks about that promised reward the whole way through the game (they win), and the two after that (they lose to Dawn and Kennedy, and then she and Willow lose to Andrew and Dawn). She thinks about it when Xander requests N’Sync on the tinny old jukebox and dances up on Buffy’s chair. She thinks about it when Buffy tosses her head back with laughter, revealing the smooth, pale column of her throat. She thinks about it when Buffy notices her watching and raises her glass, bringing her straw playfully to her lips. She thinks about it when the pink flash of Buffy’s tongue toys with the edge of the straw, eyes fixed on Faith.

 

She has to force herself to stop thinking about it when the pool cue almost cracks in her hand.

 

She starts thinking about it again when the lights in the pool hall flash twice, and they start making their way outside, corralling Willow and Andrew who are both more than a little unsteady on their feet. She thinks about that reward as Buffy holds Willow’s arm over her shoulder, ass swaying prettily as she keeps her friend upright.

 

She keeps thinking about it when they pile into two cabs, Buffy sliding across the bench seat in the back, her thigh pressing against Faith’s as Dawn ducks in behind her. Buffy’s hand rests on her thigh like it belongs there. Her fingertips press into the seam of Faith’s jeans, high on her leg, like explorers mapping new terrain.

 

Faith tilts her head toward Buffy’s, eyes closed, focusing on nothing but the feel of the warm hand tragically separated from her skin.

 

When they get to the hotel, they part with a promising look. Faith walks Andrew back to his room while Buffy makes sure Dawn gets safely to hers. When she comes back to the first floor, Faith presses her back into the cooling concrete wall, trying to calm the pounding of her heart in her ears. She knows she shouldn’t assume that anything more’s going to happen tonight. Faith’s happy with where this is—this thing between them. There’s no reason they have to rush anything. She’d be perfectly content to get her hands back in that blonde hair and give Buffy a very, very thorough goodnight kiss.

 

Motion from the stairs catches her eye. Faith keeps her body perfectly relaxed, although her stomach seems to have other plans, as it feels like it drops lower in her abdomen. Buffy appears from the shadows of the stairs, the flickering motel lights casting patterns over her bare shoulders and arms. She carries her sandals in her hand, barefoot and tiny, and she flashes a white smile at Faith as she approaches. “Hey,” Buffy says, her voice husky.

 

“Baby sis all tucked in?” Faith asks, letting her foot down from the wall. She reaches for Buffy, pleased when she folds against Faith’s side.

 

“Yeah,” Buffy says. She presses her cheek to Faith’s shoulder. “You tired? Should I tuck you in too?”

 

Faith licks her lips. “I’m not tired, but I wouldn’t say no to you taking me to bed.”

 

A smile plays with the corners of Buffy’s mouth. She laces their fingers together and tugs Faith forward. They walk down the dimly lit hall together, until they reach Faith’s room. She fumbles the key free from her jeans, sliding it home and pushing the door open. The switch on the wall illuminates a weak bedside table lamp, but it’s enough light for their enhanced sight. Buffy enters first, Faith closing the door behind them both.

 

Buffy lets out an oof of surprise when Faith hooks her arm and pulls her backward, pushing her none too gently back against the door. Faith’s hands are in her hair, fingernails scraping gently at Buffy’s scalp as she brings their faces together in an urgent kiss. Buffy pushes half heartedly back against the body holding her flush against the door, not wanting to get away so much as feel all of Faith up against her. In return Faith sucks her bottom lip, digging her teeth in until Buffy whimpers. Her forearms hold Buffy’s shoulders against the wood, hands still tugging at Buffy’s hair.

 

Slow down, Faith tries to tell herself, even as Buffy’s hands run down her back. She cups Faith’s ass with both hands, a pleased little grumble escaping around their attached mouths.

 

Faith smiles into the kiss, pressing her hips forward into Buffy’s. One hand stays on Faith’s ass, the other goes to her hair, pulling her head roughly to the side as Buffy breaks the kiss. Her mouth sinks down on Faith’s neck, tongue sliding firmly along Faith’s straining skin. To Faith’s surprise, she finds herself lifted with just one of Buffy’s hands. Buffy’s other hand cradles the back of her neck, keeping her upright as Faith wraps both legs around Buffy’s waist.

 

Buffy walks forward until Faith’s back meets the wall. Faith holds her shoulders, trying to concentrate on not falling in spite of the way Buffy’s sucking on her neck. The hand not supporting her weight slides over Faith’s collar bone, treads softly over the swell of her right breast and fumbles with the hem of her shirt.

 

Faith’s hands leave Buffy’s shoulders, allowing her weight to be supported by the wall behind her. Traveling down, they grip the hem of Buffy’s blouse and pull upward. Buffy forgets her own pursuit, raising an arm and allowing the smooth material to be pulled over her head. It slides down her remaining arm, pooling at Faith’s ass, where Buffy’s hand is still firmly planted.

 

Faith runs one trembling finger over the strap of Buffy’s black lace bra. “Nice,” she comments breathlessly.

 

“Got it for you,” Buffy replies, before sinking her teeth delicately into Faith’s neck.

 

“Mmm,” Faith exhales, feeling her toes curling in her boots. “Matching panties?”

 

“Why don’t you check?” Buffy advises, her voice muffled as she makes her way over Faith’s throat.

 

The suggestion makes Faith’s stomach do somersaults. There’s a tiny part of her brain still telling her to slow down, don’t rush and do something she’ll regret. The larger part wants to see Buffy’s matching panties. Faith’s thighs contract, grinding herself against Buffy’s jean covered pelvis. “Gonna put me down?” She asks, wondering how she’s supposed to get into the other slayer’s pants from her elevated position.

 

“Not if you keep doing that,” Buffy mutters, pressing her forehead against Faith’s collarbone. “Mmm.”

 

“What?” Faith asks teasingly, rocking her hips again. “This?” Squeeze. “Wouldn’t wanna,” rock, “keep doing,” squeeze, “this…” rock.

 

Buffy slides both arms behind Faith once more and lifts her from the wall. She strides to the closest bed, depositing Faith none too gently on it. She shakes her discarded shirt free from her wrist.

 

Following her lead, Faith yanks her boots off. She holds out her arm and Buffy climbs on the bed beside her, sinking easily into her embrace. Making a conscious effort to go slower, Faith positions herself on top and kisses Buffy gently. Her palm strokes lightly over Buffy’s bare belly, finding its way to the soft lace of her bra. Buffy’s nipples stand at attention beneath the fabric, waiting to be noticed. Faith obliges, softly running her fingertips over the right one, first, then the left.

 

Buffy strains to keep her back from arching. The arm behind Faith holds her waist, trying not to squeeze too hard as she becomes more excited. Faith nudges her upwards slightly, enough to slip her hand behind Buffy and unsnap her bra.

 

Not to be outdone, Buffy snags the hem of Faith’s top on her way down, quickly tugging it upward.

 

Faith helps her pull it off and adds her bra to the discard pile for good measure, leaving her breasts bare to Buffy’s view. Buffy sits fully up, her arms circling Faith’s waist and pulling her into her lap. From her lower position, she tilts her mouth up for a kiss, while her hand finds Faith’s chest.

 

Faith can’t remember anymore why she wanted to move slower. Her jeans are beginning to feel uncomfortable on her heated skin. It’s been a long time since she’s wanted anyone this much. Buffy feels amazing.

 

As if on cue, Buffy starts unzipping Faith’s jeans. Her fingertips rest on Faith’s mound, over her underwear, as if testing the waters.

 

Faith wiggles out of her lap, standing up so she can kick her jeans off. Buffy lays waiting on the bed, her smooth white skin flushed pink with arousal. Her breasts heave just a bit with her heavy breathing. Faith can’t get back in bed fast enough.

 

Buffy reaches for her, only to find her hands gently pushed away. She frowns, disappointed, until she sees Faith’s smirk.

“How about those panties?” Faith asks, her voice low and mischievous.

 

“You know where to find ’em,” Buffy points out, hoping her voice sounds more cool and less like the trembling virgin she feels like.

 

Faith has Buffy’s pants off almost faster than her own. The panties do match the bra—black, lacy, and nearly sheer.

 

“These are real pretty,” Faith comments, letting her index finger trail from the waistband, down, and further down when Buffy spreads her legs accommodatingly. Faith brings her palm down, fully cupping Buffy’s damp pussy.

 

“Mmm,” Buffy mumbles, her hips rising to push against Faith’s hand.

 

Faith squeezes her again and then releases. Over Buffy’s grunt of dismay, she adds, “So I’ll give you the chance to take them off, instead of just ripping them.”

 

Buffy thinks she might like the ripping plan better, but she quickly hooks her thumbs in the waist of her underwear and pulls them down. Freeing her feet from them, she deposits the panties in Faith’s lap.

 

As Faith reaches for Buffy, Buffy reaches for Faith’s underwear. She slides her fingers through the side and yanks backward easily.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Yours weren’t that pretty,” she says with a sly grin, tossing Faith’s ruined underwear over the side of the bed.

 

Faith leans closer, forcing Buffy to lie back to accommodate her. Stretching so their skin is fully pressed together, she informs Buffy, “That was my favorite pair.”

 

Buffy frowns apologetically. “I’m so sorry,” she says with an obvious lack of sincerity. Her hand moves down Faith’s side, slipping over her abdomen quickly. “How can I make it up to you?” She asks, while dipping her fingers between Faith’s legs.

 

Faith closes her eyes when Buffy’s fingertips stroke her slick labia. “That’s—” she sucks in a deep breath as exploring fingers part her lips, meeting the warm, wet skin between them. “Oh… that’s a good start.”

 

Buffy’s fingertips quickly find Faith’s clitoris, stroking experimentally. If the trembling in Faith’s arms as she tries to hold herself up is any indication, she’s on the right track.

 

Once Buffy hits a good rhythm, it’s hard to remain upright. Faith gradually sinks downward until her pussy is resting on Buffy’s thigh. Her forehead is against Buffy’s shoulder, lips just brushing her chest.

 

Buffy flexes her knee, pressing her thigh against Faith, who grinds down, letting Buffy’s leg stimulate her sensitive skin.

 

“Mmm,” Faith moans.

 

Buffy keeps her fingers circling, stroking and sliding over Faith’s swollen clit. Turning her head, she kisses Faith’s shoulder, biting down gently. Faith murmurs her approval.

 

Faith’s hips rock back and forth. Buffy’s leg is slippery from Faith’s dripping pussy, and she tightens her grasp around Faith’s waist, trying to hold on to the now rapidly rocking woman. Even with slayer dexterity, it’s hard to keep up with the pace Faith is setting.

 

Needing more pressure, Faith boosts herself up, holding her weight on her arms while she grinds her pelvis down against Buffy’s leg. Her breasts sway back and forth above Buffy’s head and Buffy leans up, capturing one nipple in her mouth gently. Faith’s back arches. The muscles in her abdomen and legs are strained to the max. Her toes are beginning to tingle. “So close,” she pants.

 

Buffy renews her efforts, moving her fingers as fast as she possibly can on Faith’s clit. Sucking lightly on one nipple, she takes a chance and digs her teeth in slightly. If Faith’s roughly muttered fuck is any indication, she likes that.

 

Buffy moves with Faith’s frantic pace, holding on to her wildly bucking hips, and keeping her fingers firmly sliding across Faith’s clit. Finally, Faith presses her pussy flush against Buffy’s leg, bearing down on her fingers hard. Her arms are trembling as she struggles to hold herself up. A series of low, guttural moans let Buffy know she’s hit her orgasm.

 

Faith’s arms give out, letting her collapse atop Buffy. Buffy gently slides her hand free from the warmth between Faith’s legs, wrapping both arms around her and kissing the closest part of her, which happens to be her shoulder. Faith musters up enough energy to roll on her side, allowing herself to be cradled in Buffy’s arms.

 

She lies there for several minutes, catching her breath. When her eyes finally flutter back open, she’s met with a soft smile on Buffy’s face.

 

“Soon as I can move again, you’re in for it, blondie,” Faith half exhales, half threatens. “I don’t think the score’s settled yet for my favorite underwear.”

 

“Oh, so… you’re saying I should stop?” Buffy asks mischievously.

 

Faith’s eyes open further, following the route of Buffy’s arm, down her body, to where her hand is splayed between her parted legs.

 

“Don’t stop on my account,” Faith says, suddenly very awake and alert. She props her head on her elbow, letting her other hand rest on Buffy’s breast. She pinches the hard, rose-colored nipple, rolling it between her fingertips.

 

Buffy exhales roughly, her back twisting toward Faith. She wants more.

 

Faith can’t take her eyes off Buffy’s swiftly moving fingers. Her spread thighs are slick with come.

 

“How about a little help?” Faith suggests. As beautiful as the view from up here is, her fingers are practically itching to touch Buffy’s warm, wet pussy.

 

“What kind of help?” Buffy pants, knowing what Faith is offering, but wanting to hear her say it out loud.

 

Faith manages to tear her eyes from Buffy’s pussy long enough to make eye contact. “I wanna fuck you,” she says huskily.

 

Buffy’s eyes flutter as her stomach clenches. She nods her assent.

 

Faith wastes no time getting in to position between her legs. The view from down here is even better. Buffy’s labia are slick and pink. Her clitoris peeks between them, round and swollen under her quickly circling fingers. Looking up, Faith’s gaze travels over Buffy’s flat belly to the soft underside of her breasts. Her body trembles slightly as she plays with herself.

 

Faith feels her own pussy clenching almost painfully. Time to get to work. On hands and knees, she carefully rubs her fingers up and down Buffy’s slit, coating them with wetness.

 

When Faith’s fingers slide inside her, Buffy can’t help but moan. The visual is almost as appealing as the actual sensation. Faith’s dark hair dangles over Buffy’s stomach. The smooth muscles in her arm flex with every thrust of her fingers. Buffy has an excellent view of her swaying breasts. When Faith looks up at her, cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen from kissing, Buffy grins back at her like an idiot. She can’t believe this is actually happening.

 

Faith smiles too, quite thrilled with her current position. She drops her eyes back to Buffy’s fingers, still tweaking and swirling over her sensitive clit. Faith quickens her pace, pushing her fingers in as far as she can on every thrust.

 

“Oh, God, Faith,” Buffy manages to call out between gasps.

 

Faith is dripping wet, her own pussy desperate for attention. “You feel so good,” she murmurs, still stroking in and out of Buffy’s pussy.

 

Buffy’s muscles are clutching her fingers now, obviously getting closer to the edge.

 

“I wanna feel you come on my fingers,” Faith groans, pumping harder still.

 

Buffy squeezes her eyes shut, the muscles in her stomach tightening at Faith’s words. “Ahh…”

 

Buffy’s clearly enjoying hearing her talk. Faith is happy to oblige. “God, I love your pussy.” She really, really does.

 

“Mmmm,” Buffy exhales, her hips pumping down to meet Faith’s fingers with every thrust.

 

Faith leans down, kissing her sweaty stomach. “You’re so close, baby… wanna feel you come.”

 

Buffy’s moaning is half tortured now. Her fingers move frantically around her clit, desperately trying to finish.

 

As much as Faith loves watching her squirm, she decides to take pity on her. “Move,” she orders.

 

“Huh?” Buffy asks, not understanding.

 

Faith rests her weight on her knees, using her free hand to shove Buffy’s fingers away from her pussy. Bending down, she flicks her tongue quickly across Buffy’s clit, before capturing it between her lips and sucking.

 

“Oh!” Buffy cries, her hips arching off the bed. Around her fingers, Faith can feel Buffy’s muscles contracting hard. She keeps sucking, her tongue swirling around her clit, until Buffy sinks bonelessly back down. Only then does Faith give her a final gentle lick and sit up.

 

Buffy barely has time to get her breath back before Faith crawls up the bed, pulling her into her arms. Resting is apparently not on the agenda. Faith’s kisses are more desperate than before, half teeth and half tongue. They hold each other tightly, fingernails clawing gently into backs and butts, while wrestling for control of the kiss. Buffy’s conquering Faith, pushing her back against the mattress, when Faith’s thigh forces its way between hers and pushes demandingly against her sex.

 

“Mmmff,” Buffy mumbles against Faith’s lips.

 

Faith’s leg presses insistently, and her hands find their way to Buffy’s waist, rocking her back and forth.

 

As good at that feels, Buffy’s not about to let Faith have control. She wiggles her hand between their bodies, finding her way easily to Faith’s soaked pussy.

“Ohh,” Faith gasps, as Buffy’s fingers go for the kill, pushing inside her with no problem. “Fuck.”

 

The two pull at one another, sliding on wet thighs, plunging stiff fingers in and out.

 

“I’m gonna come,” Faith groans, trying hard to hold back, but knowing it’s hopeless. Buffy’s relentless, her palm sliding over Faith’s clit as she fucks her with her fingers.

 

As Faith comes, she drags Buffy against her, holding her tightly against her shaking body. Buffy leaves her fingers where they are, using her free hand to stroke Faith’s sweat soaked hair away from her face. She presses soft kisses to the other slayer’s forehead.

 

When Faith’s eyes blink back open, the two of them are staring at one another. Faith kisses Buffy gently, loosening her hold slightly. Her hand finds its way to Buffy’s sex, sliding over her soft, wet skin with no friction whatsoever. Her stroke is slow and gentle. The room is dim now, a pillow having knocked the lamp off the table. Even through the shadows, they can see one another very clearly. Faith keeps up eye contact as she rubs Buffy’s clit at a torturous pace.

 

Buffy whimpers in her arms. “Please…”

 

Giving in, Faith presses her fingers down a little harder, speeding up her pace just a little. She kisses Buffy’s parted lips, her cheeks, her closed eyelids. Buffy shudders, her fingers finally slipping free of Faith’s body. Her arms close around Faith’s waist, holding on to her tightly as she gets closer and closer to coming.

 

Buffy’s orgasm is a gentle one, rolling through her body at a leisurely pace. Her toes curl against Faith’s calves as she shakes. When it’s over, Faith brings her hand to Buffy’s back again, squeezing her warmly against her chest.

 

Buffy allows herself to be cuddled, a few stray tears sneaking from her eyes.

 

“You okay?” Faith asks, concerned. She brings her hand to Buffy’s face, using her thumb to wipe away the tears.

 

“Yeah,” Buffy assures her, a little embarrassed. “Just… super intense?”

 

“Ah,” Faith murmurs, understanding. “Good.”

 

Buffy closes her eyes, tucking her face into the hollow of Faith’s throat. “Very good,” she sighs, totally content.

 

XXXXX

 

Buffy stirs as the first bruised blue tendrils of light make their way through the threadbare curtains covering the window. For a moment, her chest tightens in dread. No matter how many mornings she wakes up with someone else, some small part of her remembers waking up in Angel’s bed alone, and fully expects that experience to be repeated. She relaxes when she sees Faith sprawled on her stomach, tangled sheets covering her to mid back. Dark hair streaks down her bare back and across the pillow under her head, curls pulled to soft waves by Buffy’s hands the night before. Buffy gently pushes some wayward hair away from Faith’s face and nestles in closer to her.

 

Faith wakes enough to lift her arm, beckoning Buffy under it. Buffy goes, feeling Faith roll onto her side. She pulls Buffy’s back flush against her front, sleepy lips pressing against the back of Buffy’s neck. “Don’t go,” Faith says, voice small and sleep muffled.

 

Buffy shakes her head soothingly. Strong arms squeeze her once more and she puts her hand on Faith’s forearm, holding them together. She isn’t going anywhere, she thinks, closing her eyes again. She’s right where she wants to be.

Notes:

Next chapter is just a little bonus epilogue scene. :) Thank you for reading! Always love to hear your thoughts.

Chapter 4

“Don’t go,” Faith says, voice small and sleep muffled.

 

Buffy shakes her head soothingly. Strong arms squeeze her once more and she puts her hand on Faith’s forearm, holding them together. She isn’t going anywhere, she thinks, closing her eyes again. She’s right where she wants to be.

 

Epilogue/Bonus scene:

 

“Are we sure about this?” Xander asks, his voice betraying his nerves.

 

Beside him, Willow nods resolutely. “This is for her own good, both of their own good.”

 

Xander looks skeptical.

 

“You know I’m right,” Willow says.

 

The two of them stand at the kitchen counter, Xander washing vegetables and Willow chopping them.

 

“That’ll be a great comfort to us when Faith flies into a rage and breaks this beautiful new dining table I just finished building.”

 

“It’s a beautiful table,” Willow assures him, “and that isn’t going to happen. She doesn’t so much fly into the rage anymore.”

 

Xander finishes the last of the vegetables and turns off the tap, reaching for a towel to dry his hands. “I don’t know,” he says, stepping around Willow to begin pre-heating the oven. “Historically speaking, Buffy’s paramours tend to go a little wacky when it comes to her.”

 

Willow shakes her head, smiling. “Everything’s going to be fine. Don’t worry so much.”

 

Xander can’t help but stay worried, right up until the moment they’re all seated around his fancy new table, and Willow makes her move. “So, Buff,” she says mischievously, “I noticed that total hottie you were talking to in the grocery store today.”

 

Dawn’s eyes widen in interest. She is not in on the plan, but responds perfectly nonetheless. “Oooh, the sexy cowboy?”

 

Across the table, Xander sees Faith’s grasp on her fork tighten ever so slightly. He gulps.

 

Buffy’s turning a little pink. “Sexy cowboy? I don’t—”

 

“You guys were talking for a long time,” Willow says, a grin firmly planted on her face.

 

Buffy glances at Faith and then quickly away, shaking her head. “He was asking me where to find apple butter,” she says. “I told him I saw some in Aisle 7.”

 

“That can’t be all,” Willow persists. “He was practically making goo goo eyes at you.”

 

Faith spears a piece of chicken with unnecessary viciousness, but places it calmly on her plate.

 

“I didn’t even notice,” Buffy says. “Hey, Kennedy, pass the potatoes?”

 

“How did you not notice?” Dawn asks, intercepting the potatoes to take a scoop for herself before they continue on their course to Buffy.

 

Buffy shrugs uncomfortably.

 

“We should go back tomorrow,” Willow suggests. “See if we can run into him again. You should get his number.”

 

Andrew chimes in in a distinctly motherly voice, “You deserve to find love again, Buffy.”

 

Buffy frowns almost indignantly.

 

“It’s true,” Kennedy says, taking a bite of her chicken. “We’ve been here three months. Time to get back up on that pogo stick.”

 

“Eww,” Dawn says.

 

With a long-suffering sigh, Giles removes his glasses and begins cleaning them with his dinner napkin.

 

“I don’t need,” Buffy starts, sputtering, “I’m not—pogo stick?”

 

Faith’s eyes have narrowed almost imperceptibly. She shovels chicken in her mouth like it’s going out of style.

 

Kennedy shrugs. “If you’re over driving stick, Will and I could introduce you to some nice—”

 

“Enough!” Giles puts in suddenly, raising his voice so that a hush falls over the table. “Buffy, Faith, you’re not as subtle as you think you are. Everyone knows. Willow, do stop antagonizing Buffy. Kennedy, I beg you, stop introducing new euphemisms for genitalia at the dinner table. Andrew, please pass the zucchini.”

 

Buffy’s mouth falls open in surprise.

 

Kennedy grins angelically.

 

Willow looks particularly victorious.

 

Faith swallows the rather large bite of chicken she’s been chewing, sets her fork down beside her plate, and gets to her feet. “I’m getting the wine,” she says calmly. She stops as she passes Buffy, leaning down to plant a kiss on top of her head. “Get you a glass?”

 

Buffy nods, finally closing her mouth.

 

Andrew passes the zucchini.

Notes:

That's a wrap! :D Thank you for reading through this little bite size story. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Notes:

This is the eighth fic in my Ten Roads series, which sort of gives me hope that maybe I'll actually get to ten stories as planned. *pats self on back* All other fics in the series are housed on chosentwo.

You can also find me on tumblr or twitter.