Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The smoke alarm was shrieking like a banshee, and Buffy was pretty sure the neighbors three houses down could hear it. She stood on a kitchen chair, frantically waving a dish towel at the offensive device, trying to clear the acrid smoke that filled the Cleveland Slayer house kitchen like some kind of apple scented fog of war.

Her attempt at homemade apple pie, made with apples she and Dawn had spent the entire afternoon picking at a local orchard, sat in the open oven, a blackened, smoking ruin that looked more like a science experiment gone wrong than anything edible.

"Come on," Buffy muttered, flapping the towel more aggressively. "It's just a little smoke. Nothing’s on fire… anymore."

The flour coating her jeans and the front of her sweater wasn't helping her case. Neither was the fact that every surface in the kitchen looked like a small tornado had blown through it. Apparently, baking required a lot more precision than slaying demons, and Buffy was beginning to think that fighting the forces of darkness was actually easier than following a recipe.

She was just starting to consider the merits of simply ripping the smoke detector off the ceiling when Faith's voice cut through the wailing.

"Whoa. Who let you back in the kitchen?"

Buffy turned to see Faith standing in the doorway, grinning up at her with that infuriating smirk that somehow managed to be both amused and affectionate. 

Great. Because having Faith witness her domestic disaster wasn't humiliating enough. She wasn't even supposed to be here until tomorrow. It wasn't fair how Faith still looked good after a nine hour flight, her dark hair perfectly messy in that way that should look terrible but somehow didn't. Everything about her looked effortlessly cool, from the tight band t-shirt under her dark jean jacket to the dark red leather pants that made her look like she'd just walked out of a photoshoot for SPIN magazine, not like she'd spent half the day in a cramped airplane seat.

"It's fine," Buffy said defensively, still waving the towel. "The smoke alarm is just being overly dramatic."

"Okay, but pretty sure the pie disagrees," Faith said, her grin widening as she peered at the open oven where Buffy's attempt at apple pie sat like a blackened, caved-in monument to culinary failure. "I thought you were banned after the pizza thing?"

Heat flooded Buffy's cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the residual warmth from the oven. "Oh my God, you forget to remove the cardboard a couple times and suddenly it's the greatest scandal since New Coke!"

"The way Xander tells it, you almost burned down the kitchen. Twice," Faith said, stepping further into the room and clearly enjoying herself way too much.

The smoke alarm finally gave up its protest, leaving the kitchen in blessed silence. Buffy climbed down from the chair with as much dignity as she could muster, which wasn't much considering she was covered in flour and her pie looked like it belonged in a horror movie.

"Are you here to judge my baking," Buffy said, shooting Faith a glare, "or is there something else?"

Faith's grin turned wicked, all dimples and mischief. She stepped aside with a flourish. "Buffy, meet Gemma. Gemma, your fearless leader, Buffy the Apple Pie Slayer."

The teenager who stepped out from behind Faith, Gemma, looked Buffy up and down with barely concealed skepticism. She had choppy black hair that looked like she'd cut it herself with a pair of dull scissors, pale skin, and the kind of attitude that screamed 'new Slayer who doesn't want to be here.' "Hi," she said flatly, clearly unimpressed by what she was seeing.

Buffy felt her cheeks burn hotter. This was not how she'd planned to make a first impression on a new Slayer. She was supposed to be the experienced leader, the one who had it all together, not the flour covered disaster who couldn't bake a simple pie without nearly burning down the house.

"Hey, nice to meet you," Buffy said, trying for warm and welcoming but probably coming across as manic. "I don't usually... slay pies. I mean, I don't normally bake, but my sister Dawn, she lives here, you'll meet her, she wanted apple pie. Our first real Autumn. There was apple picking. It was a thing. Yeah." She gestured helplessly at the kitchen disaster, then turned to Faith. She just wanted to get this embarrassment over with as quick as possible so she could go find that hole to crawl into. "Hey, why don't you find Andrew? He can show you her room."

Faith opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Andrew appeared in the doorway as if summoned, with Xander right behind him.

"Found him," Faith said with a smug smile, and Buffy wanted to disappear into the floor.

Andrew surveyed the smoke filled kitchen with wide eyes, taking in the destroyed pie, the flour covered surfaces, and Buffy's mortified expression. "Were you trying to lure a Bilaju demon?" he asked seriously. "Because they're totally attracted to burnt offerings. Especially apple based ones."

"Yeah, why does it smell like burnt apples in here?" Xander added, his gaze landing on Buffy with fond exasperation. "Buffster, were you baking again? I thought we talked about this..."

Buffy closed her eyes briefly, yeah, that hole could open up anytime now. Of course this was happening in front of everyone. Of course Faith was here to witness her complete and utter failure at something as basic as baking a pie. And of course the new Slayer's first impression of her would be as the woman who nearly burned down the kitchen trying to make dessert.

"It's fine," she said again, more to convince herself than anyone else. "Everything's under control."

The skeptical look Gemma shot her suggested that nobody in the room believed that for a second.

"Actually," Xander said, his expression growing more serious, "we came to find you because we might have a situation. Andrew?"

Andrew straightened up, clearly glad to move away from the topic of Buffy's culinary disasters. "Right, so there have been reports of attacks near the Cleveland Natural History Museum over the past few nights. Broken windows, security guards getting hurt, a couple of civilians attacked after dark."

"Attacked how?" Buffy asked, grateful for the distraction.

"Witnesses described something big and fast moving through the shadows," Andrew continued. "The security footage is mostly useless, just blurs and static. But the damage patterns suggest something with claws. Big ones."

"Maybe it's like Night at the Museum?" Andrew added hopefully. "Something's coming alive after hours?"

Xander grinned. "What, like Ben Stiller's gonna show up and teach us how to wrangle a T-Rex?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of an artifact that's attracting something," Andrew said, shooting Xander a look. "The museum recently acquired several new pieces. Could be one of them is more than it appears to be."

Buffy was grateful for shift from domestic disaster to Slayer mode, her mind already working through the possibilities. "I'll check it out tonight. Take a patrol team, scope out the area."

"I'm down to go," Faith said casually from where she was leaning against the counter, one hip cocked in that way that always made her look like she owned whatever room she was in. "Been a while since I got a good slay in."

Buffy hesitated. The word 'yes' was right there on her tongue. Faith was an incredible fighter, they'd always worked well together in the field, and honestly, having another experienced Slayer would make this mission safer for everyone. But something held her back.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Faith. Not anymore. Faith had proven herself over and over since Sunnydale, had been nothing but reliable in her work with the wayward Slayers. But that was exactly the problem. The more Buffy found herself wanting to rely on Faith, the more terrified she became of what would happen when Faith inevitably moved on. Because Faith always moved on, that's what she did. She helped, she fixed things, and then she left for the next crisis, the next girl who needed saving.

And if Buffy let herself depend on Faith too much, if she started expecting her to be there... well, she'd been down that road before with too many people. She couldn't afford to get attached to something that wasn't permanent.

There was also the matter of the newer Slayers. Buffy had spent months carefully establishing training protocols, teaching them to think before they acted, to assess situations instead of just charging in. Faith had come so far since her early days, but she still had that impulsive streak, that tendency to trust her instincts over strategy. What if that influenced the newer girls? What if it undermined everything Buffy had been trying to teach them?

The hesitation lasted barely a second, but it was enough. Faith's expression shifted slightly, that familiar guardedness creeping back in, and Buffy felt a stab of guilt.

"Yeah, sure," Buffy said quickly, forcing a smile. "It'll be great."

Faith's expression brightened, the defensiveness fading, and she flashed that grin that showed off her dimples. "Awesome. Like old times."

"Well, almost like old times," Xander said, glancing meaningfully at the destroyed kitchen. "Except now if whatever's attacking can be slayed with burnt baked goods, Buffy's got it covered."

Buffy grabbed a dish towel and threw it at him, grateful for the return to lighter territory. "Very funny. Just for that, you're helping me clean this up."

The Cleveland Natural History Museum looked like a reject from a Tim Burton movie at night. All Gothic and brooding, which was probably impressive during daylight hours but now just screamed 'demons definitely live here.' The parking lot stretched empty around them, and Buffy was pretty sure the streetlights were specifically designed to create the maximum number of creepy shadows possible.

They’d decided that only her and Faith would come tonight, do some recon, see what the situation was before they brought the more inexperienced girls with them. 

She checked the stake tucked in her jacket for the third time, scanning the building for whatever had been playing midnight tag with security guards. Faith was close enough that Buffy could smell her shampoo, something citrusy that definitely hadn't come from the house's communal bathroom supplies. When Faith shifted her weight, her shoulder brushed against Buffy's arm, and the contact registered in a way that made Buffy blink and refocus on the building ahead.

"So what's the plan?" Faith asked, voice low but with that edge that meant she was already itching for a fight. "Knock and ask if they've got any demons chilling in the gift shop?"

"More like circle around, see if we can- "

Glass exploded somewhere to their right, sharp. They both turned toward the sound on the east side of the building, where red emergency lighting made everything look like a horror movie set.

"Well, that was convenient," Buffy muttered, already jogging toward the noise.

They reached the broken window just as something big and hairy disappeared inside. Buffy caught a glimpse of serious claws and way too much muscle before it vanished into the shadows.

Faith was already sizing up the window, glass crunching under her boots. "You sure you don't wanna call in the cavalry?"

Buffy looked at her, really looked. When had Faith become the one asking about backup? The old Faith would have been through that window before Buffy could blink, probably with some quip about loving a good fight. But now Faith was checking, thinking it through, making sure they had a plan.

Huh.

"We are the cavalry," Buffy said, still processing this new version of Faith who apparently thought before she leaped. She caught Faith's eye and grinned.

Something passed between them in that look. Not words, just understanding. Then Faith was slipping through the window like liquid, and Buffy was right behind her, landing on museum floors that smelled like dust and field trips and something wild, musky, that definitely hadn't been there during visiting hours.

The thing wasn't just trashing the place randomly. Buffy could see the pattern as they moved deeper into the building, some cases were completely destroyed while others sat untouched.

"It's not just going crazy," she whispered. "It knows what it wants."

Faith nodded, falling into step beside her, and Buffy realized how much she'd missed this. Not the demon hunting specifically, but moving through danger with someone who got it. Who could read her body language and know where she was going before she'd fully decided.

They followed the destruction through hallways lined with stuffed animals and rock collections, past the kind of educational displays that had probably bored the hell out of every school kid in Cleveland. The wild smell got stronger as they got closer to the Native American exhibit, and Buffy could hear something moving around in there with purpose.

Great. Because demons with a plan were so much better than demons just randomly destroying things.

The demon was hunched over a shattered display case when they found it, and Jesus, it was huge. Seven feet easy, with the kind of muscle definition that screamed 'I bench press small cars for fun.' Black fur covered most of it, and its claws looked like they could open a can or a person with equal ease.

Note to self, next time, bring bigger weapons. Or a tank.

The demon was searching through the broken glass with way too much purpose, and that was never good. Whatever it was looking for, Buffy was pretty sure she didn't want it to find it.

"Oh, hell no," she muttered, and threw herself forward.

She managed to tackle the demon just as its claws closed around something small and metallic, both of them crashing into the neighboring exhibit in an explosion of glass and scattered artifacts. But even as they went down, she saw the thing clutch whatever it had found to its chest, protecting it.

The demon rolled, came up faster than anything that size should move, and Buffy caught a glimpse of silver as it slid a ring onto one massive finger. The second the metal touched its skin, the air got thick and electric in a way that made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"So much for the element of surprise," Faith muttered, already moving.

Buffy launched herself forward while Faith came in from the side, but the demon was faster than either of them expected. It ducked Faith's kick and caught Buffy with a backhand that sent her flying into the wall hard enough to rattle her teeth. Glass cases exploded around her as she hit, and she slumped to the floor seeing stars and trying to remember how breathing worked.

The demon was coming for her, claws out, and the ring was pulsing with this sick green light that made its already ridiculous muscles bulge even bigger.

Then Faith came out of nowhere like an avenging angel, launching a flying kick at the thing's back that sent it stumbling away from Buffy. Faith landed between them in a crouch, and Buffy felt something that was a mix between gratitude and relief.

"Hey, asshole," Faith snarled, already moving. "Over here."

Buffy dragged herself upright, ignoring the way her ribs bitched about it. She grabbed a tomahawk from the wreckage around her, apparently the weapons display had gotten the worst of her impromptu flight. The blade was sharp and well-balanced, which was all she needed right now.

Faith was trading blows with the demon, ducking and weaving around claws that could probably slice through steel. She was fast, faster than Buffy had seen her move in years, but the thing's massive arms had serious reach, and every swipe came close enough to part her hair. Faith managed to land a solid hit to its ribs, then another to its jaw, but the demon barely flinched. The ring's power was keeping it going like some kind of supernatural energizer bunny, and Faith was running out of room to dodge.

Buffy moved in to help, and suddenly they were working together like they'd never stopped. Faith went low while Buffy went high. When Faith ducked a swing, Buffy was already there to take advantage. It was like the old days, when they could read each other's minds and move like they were sharing the same brain.

Which was weird, considering how much they'd wanted to kill each other back then.

Faith managed to sweep the demon's legs, sending it crashing right in front of Buffy. She brought the tomahawk down with everything she had, feeling it bite deep into the thing's skull with a wet crunch that should have ended it.

Instead, the demon roared and lunged up at her, the ring keeping it moving despite having a hatchet buried in its brain. Its claws swept toward her throat, and Buffy stumbled back, trying to get out of range but was quickly running out of space to back up.

"The ring!" Faith yelled, grabbing another tomahawk. "Get the ring!"

Right, because that was totally doable when the thing attached to the ring kept trying to turn her into Slayer tartare. Buffy kicked the demon back, but she couldn't get close enough without putting herself in claw range. The thing swiped at her again, close enough that she felt the wind from its talons against her neck.

Then Faith was there, moving with the kind of certainty that took Buffy's breath away. She lunged past Buffy's guard and swung the tomahawk in a vicious arc that caught the demon's arm just above the wrist.

The blade went through fur and muscle and bone like butter, severing the hand completely. The demon's claws stopped inches from Buffy's throat as it howled, black blood spraying everywhere. The severed hand hit the floor with a wet thud, ring still glowing weakly.

Buffy didn't waste the opening. She jumped up and drove her boot into the tomahawk still sticking out of the demon's head, pushing the blade deeper. The thing convulsed once, let out a shriek that probably woke up half of Cleveland, and dropped like a sack of bricks.

The sudden quiet was almost louder than the fight had been. Buffy stood there breathing hard, adrenaline still buzzing through her system as she stared at Faith.

Faith stepped closer, her eyes scanning Buffy's face and neck like she was checking for damage. "You good?"

Her hands were steady despite everything they'd just been through, and when she reached up to brush some glass out of Buffy’s hair, her touch was gentle. Buffy nodded, not sure she could talk yet.

She was still processing what had just happened. Not the fight, that was Tuesday night in Cleveland. But the way Faith had moved to protect her. No hesitation, no thinking about it. She'd just been there before Buffy even knew she needed her.

"Guess he really didn't know how to accessorize," Faith said, nudging the severed hand with her boot. The ring had stopped glowing.

Buffy managed a shaky laugh. "Yeah, definitely not his color."

But even as she joked with Faith, part of her brain was stuck on replay, she'd always known Faith could fight. What was hitting her now was how much it meant to have Faith fighting with her instead of against her. How right it felt to have someone she could count on when everything went to hell. It had been a while since she felt that.

The thought should have been comforting. Instead, it scared her way more than any ring wearing demon ever could.

Faith crouched down next to the severed hand, carefully working the ring off the dead finger. "We should probably take this back for Andrew to look at," she said, holding it up to the emergency lighting. "Figure out what the hell it actually is."

Buffy nodded, still trying to shake off the adrenaline and whatever that other feeling was. She could feel demon blood drying sticky in her hair, and the smell was already starting to make her gag. "Good call. And maybe next time we can skip the part where I get covered in demon blood."

"Where's the fun in that?" Faith grinned, tucking the ring into her jacket pocket. "Besides, black's totally your color."

Buffy shot her a look. "Very funny. I'm gonna need like three showers to get this stuff out."

But even as she complained, Buffy realized she was smiling. She'd forgotten how this felt, having someone who could keep up, who didn't need protecting or constant guidance. Faith cracked jokes while covered in demon blood like it was normal, and Buffy didn't have to worry about whether she could handle herself. She actually had fun slaying with Faith. 

And that was a dangerous line of thinking.

Buffy came down the stairs feeling almost human again, her hair still damp from the longest, hottest shower in recorded history. Three rounds of shampoo had finally gotten the last of the demon blood out, and she'd probably used half a bottle of body wash scrubbing away the museum dust and ichor. The house was quiet, the patrol team had gotten back about twenty minutes ago and everyone had scattered to their rooms, leaving the first floor in peaceful silence.

Well, almost peaceful. Something smelled incredible coming from the kitchen, and she could hear music playing, guitars and drums with an edge that was definitely not Top 40.

She rounded the corner to find Faith at the stove, swaying slightly and singing quietly. " Oh, my tongue's the only muscle in my body that works harder than my heart... " She did this little shoulder roll on the beat, completely absorbed in whatever she was cooking and the angry sweet vocals bleeding from the small radio on the counter.

Faith looked... clean. Really clean, in that fresh-from-the-shower way that made her skin look soft and her hair darker where it was still damp. She was wearing gray sweatpants that hung low on her hips and a cut-off t-shirt that showed a strip of toned stomach when she reached for something on the counter, especially when she stretched up to grab oregano from the spice rack, still murmuring along with lyrics Buffy didn't recognize but that seemed to suit Faith perfectly. She looked like any college student making a late-night snack, not someone who'd severed a demon's hand a little over an hour ago.

"Well, well," Faith said without turning around, somehow sensing Buffy's presence. She reached over and turned off the radio. "Come to commit any more culinary crimes? Or are you just returning to the scene of your last one?"

Buffy snorted, padding into the kitchen in her bare feet. "Very funny. I'll have you know I've mastered the art of not burning down the house when I make toast."

"Congratulations. That's like, basic human survival skills right there."

"Says the woman who probably learned to cook by setting things on fire first."

Faith shot her a grin over her shoulder, and Buffy felt something warm uncurl in her chest that had nothing to do with the heat from the stove. "Hey, fire's just another cooking method. Very primal."

Buffy hopped up onto the counter, letting her legs swing. "So what are you making? Because whatever it is, it smells amazing and I'm pretty sure it's making me drool."

"Just some pasta," Faith said, turning back to the cutting board where she was dicing tomatoes with quick, precise movements. "You know how it is after a good slay. Looks like I'll only be able to take care of one of the H's tonight."

She threw Buffy a wink, and Buffy felt heat creep up her neck as she realized what Faith meant. Hungry and horny. Right. Faith's post slaying philosophy hadn't changed, apparently, and neither had Buffy's tendency to blush when Faith brought it up.

Faith's knife work was mesmerizing, quick, even cuts that turned the tomatoes into perfect little cubes. She moved the blade like it was an extension of her hand, no wasted motion, complete control. Buffy had always known Faith was good with knives, but watching her like this, in the domestic quiet of the kitchen, the skill looked different. Less dangerous, more...

The thought hit her in the stomach, a sharp twist of guilt and something that might have been grief. Faith had always been good with blades. Before prison. Before everything went so spectacularly wrong between them.

Buffy pushed the feeling down, swallowing hard. "What's all that?" she asked, nodding toward the cutting board.

"Onions, garlic, some herbs I found hiding in the back of the spice cabinet." Faith scraped the diced tomatoes into a pan that was already sizzling with onions, the smell immediately intensifying. "Amazing what you can make when you actually know what you're doing." She shot Buffy a pointed look, eyebrow raised.

"Ha ha," Buffy said dryly. "Very subtle."

Faith threw her a smirk before turning back to her cooking. She rummaged through the cupboard above the stove, pulling out bottles and jars, reading labels with the kind of focus she definitely never used for research. When she found what she was looking for, basil, something that might have been thyme, she added them to the pan with the same precision she'd used on the tomatoes.

Buffy watched Faith move around the kitchen with that same confidence she brought to everything else, but there was something different about it here. More fluid, more careful. Like she was conducting some kind of delicate orchestra instead of just making dinner.

"I gave the ring to Xander, by the way," Faith said, crushing a couple of garlic cloves with the flat of her knife before adding them to the pan. "Figured Andrew could take a look at it tomorrow, see what kind of mojo we're dealing with."

"Good thinking." Buffy's stomach rumbled as Faith stirred the sauce, the smell getting richer by the second. "Think there are more of those things out there? Big, hairy and ugly demons with a serious jewelry fetish?"

"Probably. There's always more." Faith tested the pasta in the other pot, nodding to herself as she tossed in some salt. "Though hopefully not tonight. I'm too tired for round two with Sasquatch's cousin."

She lifted the spoon from the sauce and tasted it, making a low humming sound of approval that did something strange low in Buffy’s stomach.

"Here," Faith said, holding the spoon out to her. "Tell me what you think."

Buffy leaned forward to taste it, and the flavor exploded across her tongue, it was rich with just enough heat to make her want more. "Oh my God," she said, eyes widening. "Faith, this is incredible."

Faith's face lit up with something that wasn't quite her usual confident smirk. It was smaller, more uncertain, like she was worried Buffy wouldn’t like it. "Yeah?"

"Where did you learn to cook like this?"

Faith shrugged, turning back to drain the pasta. "Picked up a little here and there. Had to learn early if I wanted to eat growing up." She dumped the pasta into a colander, steam rising around her face. "Though back then, my idea of fine dining was adding some pepper to a can of SpaghettiOs."

There was something almost vulnerable in the admission, and Buffy felt a twist in her chest. She thought about young Faith having to fend for herself, and had to look away.

Faith grabbed two plates from the cabinet and started plating the pasta with the same care she'd shown everything else, twirling it into neat portions before ladling the sauce over the top. When she handed Buffy her plate, there was something almost bashful in her expression.

"I usually add some grated parmesan to the top," Faith said, not quite meeting Buffy's eyes, "but we seem to be all out."

"It's perfect," Buffy said, taking the plate gratefully. And it was, the smell alone was making her mouth water, and when she took her first bite, she had to suppress a moan. "Seriously, Faith, this is better than anything I've had at half the restaurants in Cleveland."

Faith ducked her head, but Buffy caught the pleased smile before she could hide it. It was such an un-Faith-like reaction that Buffy found herself staring.

They settled at the kitchen island, Faith producing a bottle of wine from somewhere and pouring them each a glass. 

"So," Buffy said after a few bites of what might have been some of the best pasta she'd ever eaten, "how long are you staying this time?"

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Why, you ready to get rid of me already?"

"No!" Buffy said quickly, then caught herself when Faith's grin widened. "I mean, no, that's not, I was just curious."

Faith laughed, showing off her dimples, and Buffy's stomach did something fluttery. She quickly looked down at her plate, taking another bite of pasta. "Relax, B. I was just fucking with you." She took a sip of wine, leaning back in her chair. "Few days, probably. Waiting on some intel before I head out again."

"Don't you ever get tired of it?" Buffy asked, twirling pasta around her fork. "Traveling all the time, never really staying anywhere for long?"

"Nah," Faith said with a shrug that looked a little too casual. "I'm so used to it, I wouldn't know what to do with myself anywhere permanent. Longest I ever stayed in one place was..." She paused, something shifting in her expression. "Well, prison."

The word hit Buffy like a physical blow. Prison. Three years of Faith's life, locked up because Buffy hadn't been able to reach her when it mattered. Because they'd all failed her when she'd first come to Sunnydale, left her feeling so alone and unwanted that a psychotic mayor had seemed like a better option than staying with them. If Buffy had just tried harder, been more welcoming, maybe Faith never would have made the choices that led to that cell.

She must have shown it on her face because Faith quickly changed the subject.

"How about you? How's the hunt going for a new Slayer HQ?"

Buffy was grateful for the shift, even though the guilt was still sitting heavy in her chest. "Slow. Giles has mentioned a few places, but nothing solid yet." She poked at her pasta, appetite suddenly dimmed. "It's not ideal, having everyone scattered like this. Makes coordination a pain, and we're not as effective as we could be."

But Faith's words were still echoing in her head. Never staying anywhere for long. It sounded lonely, and that thought was bothering Buffy in a way she couldn't quite name.

They fell into easier conversation after that, speculation about whether the museum would try to cover up the demon attack, Faith asking about how the younger Slayers were adjusting. Normal stuff, the kind of shop talk that felt comfortable and familiar.

But there were moments, little pauses in the conversation where their eyes would meet across the small space of the island, where Buffy would notice the way the kitchen light caught the gold flecks in Faith's eyes, or the way Faith's fingers looked wrapped around her wine glass. Moments that felt charged with something Buffy couldn't name, something that made her acutely conscious of how close they were sitting, how quiet the house was around them.

When Faith reached across the table for the wine bottle to refill their glasses, her wrist brushed against Buffy's hand, and the contact sent a little shock up Buffy's arm. Neither of them mentioned it, but Faith's eyes lingered on Buffy's face a beat longer than necessary.

The wine was probably getting to her. It was late, she was tired, and it had been a long day. That was all.

The pasta really was incredible, and the wine was making Buffy feel warm and relaxed in a way she hadn't in weeks. But underneath it all, that nagging thought kept circling back. Faith, never staying anywhere long enough to call it home. Faith, who'd learned to cook because no one else would take care of her. Faith, who seemed to assume that everyone was ready for her to leave again.

Buffy didn't voice any of it. But as she watched Faith laugh at something stupid she'd said about Andrew's latest anime obsession, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important she was missing. Something about the way Faith kept talking about leaving, like it was inevitable, like she couldn't imagine anyone wanting her to stay.

"This was really good," Buffy said when they'd finished eating, gathering up their plates. "Thank you."

"No problem." Faith waved her off, but there was something pleased in her expression again, like Buffy's approval meant more than it should. "Better than low-fat yogurt, right?"

"Yeah," Buffy said softly. "Much better."

Faith caught something in her tone, because her expression shifted, becoming more careful. "You okay, B?"

Buffy managed a smile. "Just tired. Long day."

Faith nodded, not pushing, and started cleaning up the kitchen with the same efficient movements she'd used for everything else. Buffy helped, and they worked in comfortable silence, their movements unconsciously coordinated as they moved around each other in the small space.

When Faith's hip bumped against hers as they both reached for the same dish towel, Buffy felt that little shock again, and this time she was pretty sure Faith felt it too, because she paused for just a second before stepping back.

"Well," Faith said when the kitchen was clean, drying her hands on the towel. "I should probably let you get some sleep."

"Yeah," Buffy said, though she found herself oddly reluctant to end the evening. "Thanks again for dinner. And for... you know. Having my back tonight."

Faith's smile was softer than her usual smirk. "Always, B."

She headed for the stairs, pausing at the doorway to look back. "Sweet dreams."

Buffy stood in the quiet kitchen long after Faith's footsteps had faded, staring at the empty wine glasses and thinking about the careful way she'd cooked dinner, like it was something special. About the way Faith had looked when she'd asked what Buffy thought of the sauce, like the answer actually mattered.

About what it would be like if Faith stayed. Not just for a few days, but really stayed. What it would be like to have her around all the time, cooking dinner and making jokes about Buffy's kitchen disasters. About Faith having her back on patrols. 

Buffy sighed, she would be better off wondering about leprechauns. they seemed more likely to be real than Faith staying in any one place for any amount of time.

She turned off the kitchen lights and headed to bed. 

The October morning was one of those perfect crisp days that made Buffy grateful they'd ended up in Ohio instead of somewhere that stayed hot year round. The temperature was warm enough to not need a coat but with just enough of a breeze to make the air feel clean and sharp, perfect hoodie weather. The trees were putting on their autumn show, reds and golds and oranges that amazed her after a lifetime of California's stubbornly green landscape.

She'd settled onto the covered porch with her coffee and a stack of files Giles had sent about potential properties, thinking she'd actually get some reading done for once. The porch furniture was comfortable, a cushioned swing, a couple of chairs, all positioned to take advantage of the view of their huge backyard. It was the kind of morning that demanded you spend it outside, soaking up what might be one of the last truly beautiful days before it got cold for real.

The property reports lay open on her lap, but Buffy's attention kept drifting to the training session happening on the grass below. Faith had Gemma out there, working her through basic combat forms, and even from the porch Buffy could hear the seventeen year old's complaints carrying on the morning air.

"This is crap," Gemma was saying as Faith corrected her stance for what had to be the fifth time. "I don't need to learn your fancy moves. I've been doing fine on my own."

"Yeah, 'cause robbing corner shops is totally the same as fighting demons," Faith replied, sweeping Gemma's legs and sending her to the leaf-strewn ground. "Again."

Buffy winced in sympathy as Gemma hit the ground. She remembered her own early training with Giles, how many times she'd ended up on her back wondering why anyone thought she was special.

Gemma picked herself up, scowling. "And why do I have to share a room with someone who talks in her sleep? I didn't sign up to be kept awake all night by some American girl's nightmares."

"You were sharing a squat with twelve other people when I found you," Faith said, not missing a beat as she demonstrated a blocking sequence. "At least here nobody's shooting up in the corner. Your turn."

The matter of fact way Faith said it made Buffy pause. Twelve people in a squat. She'd never really thought about what kinds of situations Faith was walking into when she went after these girls, what she was pulling them out of.

"That's different," Gemma muttered, attempting the blocks and immediately getting knocked down when Faith tested them. "That was temporary."

"So's this, if you keep half-assing everything." Faith pulled her back to her feet. "Wider stance. You're fighting like you're afraid of taking up space."

"Maybe because I don't want to be here," Gemma shot back, but she adjusted her stance anyway. "Why can't I just train on my own? I've been surviving just fine without your bloody house rules and curfews and -"

Faith cut her off by attacking without warning, forcing Gemma to actually use the blocks she'd just learned. "You're not being held hostage," Faith said as Gemma stumbled backward. "Door's right there if you wanna go back to your squat and your corner shop runs."

The certainty in Faith's voice made Buffy's coffee cup pause halfway to her lips. Faith wasn't lecturing, she was challenging Gemma to really think about what she wanted. Smart.

"You don't know anything about me," Gemma said, breathing hard.

"I know you've been testing every rule since you got here to see which ones are actually enforced," Faith said, circling her slowly. "I know you're waiting for us to kick you out so you can tell yourself we're just like everyone else who gave up on you. And I know you're gonna keep pushing until you find our breaking point."

A flash of guilt hit Buffy's stomach. Faith could have been describing herself at seventeen.

Gemma's face went carefully blank. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." Faith tossed her a practice sword. "Let's see those combinations I showed you yesterday."

Gemma caught the sword awkwardly, her movements stiff with defensiveness. "This is stupid. When am I ever going to fight something with a sword?"

"When the thing you're fighting has claws longer than your forearm and skin like armor," Faith said, demonstrating a series of strikes that flowed together like a deadly dance. "When a stake's not gonna cut it and running's not an option. Now stop bitching and show me what you learned."

Gemma attempted the sequence, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Faith stepped in immediately, correcting her grip, adjusting her footwork, guiding her through the motions with surprising gentleness.

"I don't get why we have to do all this fancy crap," Gemma grumbled as Faith repositioned her arm for the third time. "I mean, I'm already strong. Isn't that the whole point?"

"Yeah, and a rhino's strong too, but it still ends up in a zoo," Faith shot back, before smoothly twisting the practice sword out of Gemma’s grip and flipping her onto the ground in one quick move. "Now get up. Again."

"It’s like a bloody military camp here." Gemma muttered as she got back up. "All these rules about when to train, when to eat, when to sleep. I'm not some kid you can just boss around."

Faith paused in her circling, studying Gemma's face."No one's saying you're a kid. But acting like you don't need anyone? That’s how you end up in a body bag."

Something flickered in Gemma's expression, surprise, maybe, or recognition. She raised the practice sword again, this time with slightly better form.

"Better," Faith said, nodding approval. "Now stop telegraphing your attacks. I can see what you're gonna do from a mile away."

"How am I supposed to not telegraph when you keep correcting every bloody thing I do?" Gemma snapped, but there was less venom in it than before.

"By listening instead of talking," Faith said, and launched into another attack sequence that had Gemma scrambling to keep up. "And by trusting that maybe, just maybe, I know what I'm doing."

Buffy found herself leaning forward in her chair, watching more intently now. When had Faith learned to do this? The old Faith would have snapped at Gemma's attitude or just walked away. This Faith was staying put, patient as anything.

"Because alone gets you dead," Faith said simply, tossing her a water bottle. "Trust me on that one."

How much easier it would be to have someone who could handle the newer Slayers like this, who could take some of the pressure off. Faith was better at this part than Buffy was.

She caught herself before the thought could go too far and refocused on her coffee, but the selfish part of her couldn't help wishing Faith would just... stay.

"Alright," Faith finally said, after Gemma had managed to complete a series of combinations without falling on her face. "You did good. Go grab a shower, and I'll catch up with you later."

Gemma nodded, looking exhausted but maybe slightly less hostile than when they'd started. She gathered up her gear and headed for the house, leaving Faith alone in the yard stretching like a cat in the morning sun.

Faith made her way up to the porch, still slightly breathless from the training session, and dropped into the chair next to Buffy's. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there were grass stains on her workout clothes, but she looked relaxed in a way that made Buffy's chest do something warm and fluttery.

"Hey," Faith said, grabbing her water bottle and taking a long drink.

"Hey," Buffy replied, then glanced around at all the leaves scattered across the yard and lawn furniture. "I should probably rake all these up," she said, gesturing at the colorful mess.

Faith followed her gaze, then looked up at the trees where plenty of leaves still clung to the branches. "Nah, you got another week or two before you gotta worry about it. Most of 'em are still up there."

"Oh," Buffy said, oddly relieved. "Good to know."

Faith settled back in her chair and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, lifting it to wipe the sweat from her face. The movement gave Buffy a clear view of toned abs and a strip of skin that was slightly flushed from the workout.

Buffy looked. Of course she looked. Then caught herself and quickly focused on her coffee. Why was she looking?

"So," Faith said with that familiar smirk, dropping her shirt back down, "enjoy the show?"

Buffy felt heat creep up her neck. Was Faith talking about the training session, or had she just caught Buffy staring? "You're really good with her," she said, the words coming out more quickly than she'd intended.

Faith's smirk faltered slightly, like she hadn't been expecting sincerity. "Nah, I just know how to knock sense into stubborn kids."

"No, really, Faith," Buffy said, not letting her deflect. "You're good at this. The training, connecting with them. I don't know how you make it look so easy."

Faith ducked her head, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, well," she said, standing up abruptly, "I probably smell like a gym sock right now. Should grab a shower before I offend anyone."

She was already heading for the door before Buffy could respond, leaving Buffy alone on the porch with her cold coffee.

Buffy sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty chair where Faith had been. She'd said something real, and Faith had practically run away. Typical Faith, always running from the truth. 

The property files were still unread in her lap, forgotten in favor of watching Faith work. Buffy picked them up and tried to focus on Giles's neat handwriting, but her mind kept drifting back to the image of Faith patiently training Gemma, and the way she'd looked when Buffy had told her she was good at it.

Like it was something she'd needed to hear but hadn't known how to accept.

The music was loud enough to feel in Buffy's chest, all bass and synthesized beats that made conversation nearly impossible unless you were willing to lean in close and shout. She sat at their claimed table, watching Dawn spin and laugh on the dance floor with Andrew and a couple of the older Slayers they'd brought along. Her sister had been relentless about tonight, working on Xander and Andrew until they were practically bouncing with excitement about a "group night out."

And then came the killer argument: "Come on, Buffy, Faith's home for a few days. We should do something fun together."

How was she supposed to say no to that? Especially when Dawn had said it with that particular mix of hope and determination that meant she'd already made up her mind and was just waiting for everyone else to catch up.

Buffy's attention drifted to the bar where Faith was waiting for their drinks, and she felt that now-familiar flutter of awareness. Faith looked incredible tonight, a tight baby blue top that showed off the abs she'd been admiring that morning, leather pants that fit like a second skin, her dark hair pulled back with a few strategic pieces framing her face. Even her makeup was different from the heavy, dark style she'd favored as a teenager. This was more subtle, more grown-up, highlighting her features instead of hiding behind them.

The top was doing amazing things for Faith's chest, and Buffy found herself wondering what kind of bra could create that effect. She'd have to ask…

Buffy blinked, startled by her own train of thought. She'd never wondered about Willow's bra situation. Or any other woman's, for that matter. But here she was, checking out the way Faith's clothes fit her body with the kind of attention she usually reserved for... well, not her friends.

Faith was making her way back through the crowd, two drinks balanced in her hands, and Buffy forced herself to look anywhere else. The dance floor. The bartender. The ceiling. Anywhere but at the way Faith moved through space like she owned it.

"Here's your foo foo drink," Faith said as she slid into the chair next to Buffy's, setting down what looked like a pink cosmopolitan with a sugar rim. "Complete with the little umbrella."

"It's a perfectly respectable drink," Buffy protested, taking a sip. The sweetness hit her tongue, all cranberry and lime with just enough vodka to make it interesting. "Not everyone needs to drink motor oil to prove they're tough."

Faith grinned and raised her whiskey. "To each their own, B."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching their friends navigate the dance floor with varying degrees of success. Andrew was attempting something that might charitably be called dancing, while Dawn moved with the kind of unconscious grace that made Buffy proud and slightly envious.

"So where's Red been hiding?" Faith asked, leaning back in her chair. "Haven't seen her around."

"Oh, she's on some kind of vision quest thing," Buffy said, waving her hand vaguely. "Looking for some wizard? I don't really know the details, but she moved all her stuff to the New Mexico house where Kennedy's stationed with a few other Slayers."

Faith nodded, taking another sip of her whiskey. "Makes sense. Always figured those two would end up somewhere warm."

"Yeah, well, it left us with more space, which is good because this place is getting pretty full." Buffy gestured around the club, then caught herself. "I mean, the house. Our house in Cleveland. Especially since you keep sending us more girls."

Faith's expression shifted slightly, becoming more thoughtful. "Speaking of which, you know you could always use my room if you need the space. I'm hardly ever there anyway."

"No."

The word shot out of her with a flash of something that felt like panic, sharp enough that Faith's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Buffy felt heat creep up her neck at her own intensity.

"I mean," she said, taking a breath and trying to moderate her tone, "it's your room. Where would you even stay when you came home?"

Faith studied her face for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her dark eyes. Then she shrugged and offered a smile that was probably meant to be casual but didn't quite reach her usual confidence. "I could always stay with you."

It should have been classic Faith, flirty, suggestive, delivered with that trademark smirk. But something was off about it. The heat that usually accompanied Faith's flirtation was missing, like she was going through the motions without really meaning it.

Before Buffy could examine that thought too closely, Faith was already standing up, draining the rest of her whiskey in one swallow.

"Oh, great song," she said, though Buffy couldn't tell the difference between this track and the last three. "Come on, let's dance."

"No, I'm good here," Buffy said quickly. "Someone should watch everyone's drinks."

Dancing with Faith right now, with all these weird thoughts floating around in her head, seemed like a spectacularly bad idea.

Faith shrugged again, that same careful casualness. "Suit yourself."

Buffy watched Faith disappear into the crowd on the dance floor, her baby blue top visible between the other dancers for a few seconds before the mass of bodies swallowed her up. She sat back in her chair and took another sip of her cosmopolitan, trying to process what had just happened.

Her reaction to Faith's suggestion about the room had been... intense. Visceral, even. The thought of Faith not having a space in their house, not having a reason to come back, had sent something that felt almost like fear shooting through her chest.

Which was weird, right? It was just practical. Faith needed a place to stay when she was in Cleveland. It made sense for her to have a room there.

Except it wasn't just practical, and Buffy knew it. There was something about Faith having a room in their house, having a home base with them, that felt important in a way she couldn't quite name.

Buffy realized she'd finished her drink without noticing and stood up, slightly unsteady on her feet. The alcohol was hitting her faster than usual, probably because she'd barely eaten today. She made her way to the bar, squeezing between couples and groups of friends until she could catch the bartender's attention.

"Another cosmo," she called out over the music.

While she waited, she scanned the dance floor from the bar. She could see Dawn spinning with one of the Slayers, Andrew still attempting his questionable dance moves, Xander doing something that might charitably be called the robot. But the angle was wrong to see much else through the crowd. She took her fresh drink and headed back toward their table, weaving through the crowd with careful steps.

When she could finally see the dance floor clearly, she stopped dead.

Faith was dancing with someone. Not just dancing, pressed together like they didn’t even want air to get between them. The woman had her arms wrapped around Faith's neck, and they moved like liquid, all curves and heat and the kind of chemistry that made other people stop and stare.

She was pure trouble in a mini skirt, the kind of girl who probably had a motorcycle and knew how to use it. Tight black skirt that barely qualified as clothing, red tank top cut low enough to be a suggestion rather than actual coverage, and tattoos crawling up both arms like beautiful, dangerous vines. Her hair fell in waves that caught the club lights, and she looked like she'd stepped out of one of those magazines Buffy definitely didn't read but somehow always noticed at the grocery store checkout.

She looked like Faith's type. Not that Buffy knew Faith’s taste in women but if she had to guess, she would be it. She was beautiful in a way that made Buffy's stomach clench.

The woman leaned in close to say something in Faith's ear, close enough that her lips almost brushed Faith's skin. Whatever she said made Faith laugh, really laugh, head thrown back, dimples blazing. Faith leaned in to respond, her mouth equally close to the woman's ear, and Buffy felt something twist in her chest that she didn't want to examine.

"Earth to Buffy," Dawn's voice cut through her thoughts. "You trying to stare a hole through Faith or that chick?"

Buffy startled, turning to find her sister standing next to the table with a slightly concerned expression. "What? No, I was just... spacing out. Thinking about those properties Giles sent over."

Dawn's eyebrows rose in clear skepticism. "You're thinking about real estate? At a club?"

"Finding a new headquarters is serious business," Buffy said defensively, sliding back into her chair and taking a large gulp of her cosmopolitan. "Very... location-y."

"Apparently," Dawn muttered, but she didn't push the issue. A moment later, Xander appeared at their table, slightly out of breath and grinning.

"What's the what, Buffster?" he said, dropping into a chair. "Not feeling the boogie tonight? I saw Andrew out there attempting what I think he believes is break dancing, and even he's showing you up in the rhythm department."

"I'm just taking a break," Buffy said, forcing herself to look at Xander instead of searching the dance floor. "Someone needs to guard the drinks, make sure nobody goes all roofie-colada on us."

"Noble sacrifice," Xander said with mock solemnity. "Though I have to say, seeing you nursing a pink drink while glowering at the dance floor is not exactly screaming 'fun night out.'"

"I don't glower," Buffy protested.

"You're doing it right now," Dawn said. "Very glower-y. Also, when did this place get so packed? I can barely move out there without bumping into someone."

"It's Friday night," Xander said. "Prime real estate for the young and restless. Speaking of which, is Andrew actually trying to breakdance? Because I'm pretty sure that's not physically possible in khakis."

Buffy nodded absently and glanced toward the dance floor. She could see Andrew flailing around in what might generously be called dancing, but no sign of Faith anywhere in the crowd. Her eyes swept the club, searching for that familiar flash of dark hair. Had Faith left? Did she go somewhere with that woman?

Then she spotted them at the bar. They were standing close together, the woman's arm around Faith's waist in a gesture that was casual and possessive at the same time. Faith was laughing at something the woman had said, her face animated in a way that made Buffy's chest feel tight.

Relief hit her fast and unexpected, followed immediately by confusion. Why did she feel relieved? What had she been worried about, exactly?

But as she watched Faith lean against the bar, watched the easy intimacy between her and this stranger, Buffy felt something else rise up in her chest. Something that felt distinctly like... jealousy?

Over Faith?

What was that about?

"Let's get another drink," she said abruptly, grabbing Xander's arm.

Xander blinked in surprise. "O-kay. Though I have to say, don't normally see you knocking them back like this."

"I'm just having fun," Buffy said, already standing and pulling him toward the bar. "You all tell me I never have fun, so let's have fun!"

She dragged Xander through the crowd toward the bar, her grip tight enough that he shot her a questioning look. The alcohol was already making her feel loose-limbed and slightly off-balance, and the crush of bodies pressing against them wasn't helping. She navigated them through the maze of people with the kind of determination usually reserved for staking vampires, ending up at the bar close enough to Faith and her new friend that she could hear their laughter over the music, but not so close that it would look obvious.

At least, she hoped it didn't look obvious.

When she finally caught the bartender's attention, she ordered another cosmopolitan with slightly more force than necessary, then heard herself saying, "Let's do shots!"

"Shots?" Xander blinked at her like she'd just suggested they take up synchronized swimming. "Buffy, you once told me that tequila was 'bad decisions in liquid form.' Are we having some kind of emotional crisis I should know about?"

"What? No," Buffy said quickly. "We're having fun. I'm having fun. This is me, having fun."

The bartender, a guy with bleached hair and more piercings than seemed structurally sound, looked at her expectantly. "What kind of shots?"

"Um..." Buffy stared at him blankly. She didn't do shots. She barely drank, and when she did, it was usually wine with dinner or the occasional cocktail. Shots were decidedly outside her wheelhouse.

"Well, look who decided to join the party."

Faith's voice came from right next to her, and Buffy turned to find Faith leaning against the bar, close enough that Buffy could smell her perfume, something warm and spicy that was definitely not what she'd worn as a teenager. The tattooed woman's arm had fallen away from Faith's waist when Faith moved, and now she stood slightly behind Faith, looking between them with curious eyes.

"She'll have a lemon drop," Faith continued, nodding toward Buffy. "Don't want to go too crazy."

"Yeah, I'll do that too," Xander said quickly.

Faith signaled the bartender again. "And I'll get a shot of Jameson. And one for her too." She jerked her head toward the woman behind her, but her attention remained focused on Buffy and Xander.

It should have annoyed Buffy, the way Faith just took over and ordered for her. But there was something protective about it, like Faith was looking out for her, making sure she didn't end up drinking something she'd regret. It was... sweet, actually.

Whoa, Faith, sweet? What was going on with her lately, was she already that drunk?

The bartender lined up their shots, and Faith raised hers in a mock toast. "To having fun," she said with a smile.

They threw back their shots, Buffy's was sweet and citrusy, much more palatable than she'd expected and Faith laughed at the face Buffy made.

"You ready to dance now?" Faith asked.

Buffy looked around the crowded bar, at all the people pressed together, at the woman with the tattoos who was watching Faith with obvious interest, and felt suddenly overwhelmed.

"I think I need to sit down," she said.

Faith's expression shifted to concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just... wanna sit down for a minute."

Xander walked with her back to their seats, one hand hovering near her elbow in case she stumbled. Buffy sank into her chair gratefully, the room spinning just slightly around the edges.

A few minutes later, Faith appeared with another round of shots, the tattooed woman trailing behind her.

"Everyone, this is Sandy," Faith said as they settled into the remaining chairs.

"Mandy," the woman corrected with a slight smile.

Faith laughed, a sound that was genuinely amused rather than embarrassed. "Right, my bad. Mandy."

Faith said it so shamelessly that Buffy wondered how much attention Faith had actually been paying to this woman who'd had her hands all over her ten minutes ago.

They did the second round of shots, and this time Buffy felt the alcohol hit her system like a warm wave. Her thoughts felt looser, less carefully controlled, and the tight feeling in her chest that she'd been carrying all evening started to ease.

"You know what?" Buffy said, gesturing a little too broadly with her empty shot glass. "Willow is totally missing out on a fun time here. Her and her stupid wizard quest thingie. Like, hello? We're having shots and... and dancing and stuff."

"Yeah," Xander said with a grin, "she's off to see the wizard while we're stuck in Kansas. Well, Cleveland. Same thing."

"So, Mandy," Buffy continued, turning to look at the tattooed woman with slightly unfocused eyes. "That's a pretty name. Very... name-y."

Faith shot her a look that was equal parts amused and concerned. "You doing okay there, B?"

"I'm great," Buffy said, a little too loudly. "Super great. Having so much fun." She blinked and the room tilted. "Whoa."

Faith laughed. "Yeah, we should probably get you home, lightweight. We can grab a cab, you all should stay, have fun. I'll make sure B gets home alright and tucked into bed."

There was something in Faith's voice when she said "tucked into bed", soft and careful. It made her stomach do a weird little flip that definitely wasn't from the shots. Faith was leaving. With her. Instead of staying here with motorcycle girl and whatever that might have led to.

"I can get myself home," Buffy protested weakly, but she was already standing up, and the world swayed enough that she had to grab the edge of the table.

"Yeah, that's not happening," Faith said firmly. She turned to the others. "Tell Dawn we're heading out, okay? And make sure Andrew doesn't try to break dance again. I think he's gonna hurt himself."

"And tell Dawnie no drinking just because I'm not here," Buffy added, pointing a slightly wobbly finger at Xander. "I'll know. And I will... I'll... kick her butt. And yours."

"Butt kicking, duly noted," Xander said with a mock salute.

"Okay, B," Faith said, standing up and gently taking Buffy's arm. "Let's get you home."

Outside, the cool October air felt amazing against Buffy's flushed skin. Faith flagged down a cab and soon they were sliding into the back seat, Buffy grateful for the support of the worn leather upholstery.

"You don't have to do this," Buffy said as Faith gave the driver their address. "I'm not that drunk."

Faith shot her a look that was equal parts amused and skeptical. "Right. Says the woman who just did shots and can't walk in a straight line."

"I can totally walk in a straight line," Buffy said, then realized she was still sitting down and couldn't actually prove it.

Faith's laugh was soft and fond. "Sure you can, B."

"You didn't have to leave your new friend," Buffy said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "Mandy. It looked like you two were having a good time."

Faith shrugged, looking out the window as Cleveland's streetlights streaked past. "Nah. It's cool. Had to make sure you got home okay."

Something warm settled in Buffy's chest at the casual way Faith said it, like there was never any question about what she'd choose.

The ride home passed in comfortable silence, Cleveland's nighttime lights streaming past the windows in blurs of neon and streetlamps. Faith paid the driver and helped Buffy out of the cab, her hand warm and steady on Buffy's lower back, guiding her toward the house. Buffy could feel the heat of Faith's palm through her shirt, anchoring her when the world spun slightly.

Inside the house, Faith guided her up the stairs with careful patience, letting Buffy set the pace and not commenting when she had to pause on the landing to get her bearings.

"Okay," Faith said as they reached Buffy's room. "Let's get you ready for bed before you fall over."

Buffy sat heavily on the edge of her bed and started working on the straps of her heels, fingers fumbling with the small buckles. Faith knelt down in front of her without being asked, gently moving Buffy's hands aside.

"Let me," she said quietly.

Faith's fingers were steady and sure as she undid the buckles, sliding the shoes off Buffy's feet with surprising gentleness. When she looked up, her face was close enough that Buffy could see the fissures of gold in her dark eyes, could count the individual lashes that framed them.

"There," Faith said softly. "Better?"

Buffy nodded, not trusting her voice. There was something about this moment, Faith kneeling in front of her, being so careful and gentle, that made her chest feel tight in an entirely different way than it had at the club.

"Come on," Faith said, standing up and moving toward Buffy's dresser. "Let's find you something comfortable to sleep in."

She moved toward Buffy's dresser and started opening drawers, looking for something suitable to sleep in. After a moment, she pulled out a pair of soft pajama pants and a t-shirt that read "I'm Not Short, I'm Fun-Sized" in glittery letters.

"That's definitely Dawn's," Buffy said, eyeing the shirt with mild horror.

Faith grinned. "Hey, it's clean and it's soft. Fashion police can arrest you tomorrow." She held out the clothes, and for just a second, something flickered across her face when she asked, "Can you manage from here, or do you need help?"

There was something different in Faith's voice, something that made Buffy look at her more closely through the alcohol haze. But before she could figure out what it was, Faith was already looking away.

"I got it," Buffy said, though standing up again made the floor feel wavy.

Faith nodded and moved toward the door. "I'll get you some water and aspirin for tomorrow. You're gonna feel like hell if you don't hydrate."

She disappeared down the hall, leaving Buffy alone to change into her pajamas. The clothes felt soft and comforting against her skin, and by the time Faith returned with a large glass of water and two white pills, Buffy was already under the covers.

"Drink as much of that as you can," Faith said, setting the glass on the nightstand along with the aspirin. "And take these before you go to sleep."

Buffy obediently swallowed the pills and drank half the glass of water, surprised by how thirsty she actually was. Faith moved around the room with quiet efficiency, turning off the overhead light and switching on the small lamp by the bed, pulling the curtains closed, making sure the water glass was within easy reach.

"Anything else you need?" Faith asked, her voice soft in the dim light.

Buffy shook her head, then immediately regretted the movement as it made the room swim around her. "Thank you. For tonight. For bringing me home."

Faith's smile was gentle, more tender than any expression Buffy could remember seeing on her face. "No problem, B. Sleep it off."

She moved toward the door, and Buffy found herself watching the way Faith's silhouette looked against the hallway light, the way she paused in the doorway to look back.

"Night, Buffy."

"Night."

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Buffy alone in the dim room with her thoughts and the lingering scent of Faith's perfume. She lay still for a moment, listening to Faith's footsteps fade down the hallway, probably heading to her own room.

Her own room. Faith's room was just down the hall, and the thought of it sitting empty most of the time made something ache in Buffy’s heart.

The sheets were soft against her skin, and the room felt safe and quiet after the chaos of the club. Her thoughts drifted like smoke, loose and unguarded in a way that felt almost dangerous.

Faith's hands had been so gentle taking off her shoes, and Buffy's chest went warm remembering it. Nobody had taken care of her like that in... God, maybe ever. The way Faith had moved around the room just now, like she belonged here. She acted like taking care of Buffy was something she wanted to do.

The dinner Faith had made. Buffy could still taste it, could still see the way Faith's face had lit up when Buffy said it was good. That shy smile that made Buffy want to keep complimenting her just to see it again. When was the last time someone had cooked for her like that? 

At the museum, when that demon had her pinned, Faith had just appeared. No thinking, no hesitation, just Faith putting herself between Buffy and danger like it was instinct. 

This morning, watching Faith be so patient with Gemma, and then running away when Buffy tried to tell her she was good at it. As if being seen was too much. Being appreciated was scarier than fighting demons.

At the club, when Faith said she could stay with Buffy. The way she'd looked when she said it, like maybe she meant it. Like maybe she wanted to.

And watching that woman touch Faith had felt like dying a little. When Faith chose to leave with her instead...

These feelings felt familiar, they weren't new. They'd been there in high school, before everything exploded. She'd just buried them so deep she'd almost convinced herself they'd never existed.

"Oh shit," she whispered into the darkness of her room. "Do I like like Faith?"

The answer rose up from somewhere deep in her chest, immediate and undeniable and absolutely terrifying.

Well, duh.

The thunderclap that woke Buffy sounded like the sky was cracking open directly over the house. She jerked upright in bed, heart hammering, and immediately regretted the sudden movement as her head gave a small throb of protest. Not a hangover, exactly, thank God for Slayer healing, but definitely a reminder that she'd had more to drink last night than usual.

Rain was pelting against her bedroom window in sheets so heavy she could barely see the backyard through the glass. The trees were bending in the wind, and the whole world looked gray and stormy in a way that made staying inside seem like the only sane option.

She fumbled for her alarm clock and squinted at the numbers. 10:17 AM. She never slept this late, ever. Usually she was up by seven regardless of how late she'd been out, but apparently last night had taken more out of her than she'd thought.

Oh.

Oh no.

The memory of last night hit her like a freight train. Not the club, not the shots, not even Faith tucking her into bed with those gentle hands. The realization that had come after, lying in the dark with her thoughts finally quiet enough to hear what her heart had been trying to tell her for days.

She liked Faith. Not friend liked. Like liked.

Buffy fell back against her pillows and stared at the ceiling, feeling something between panic and hysteria bubbling up in her chest. Had she actually thought that last night? Had she really lain there in her own bed and admitted to herself that she had feelings for Faith? Faith, who she'd fought with and fought against and who had a knife scar because of her and who was probably going to leave again in a few days anyway?

Maybe she'd been drunker than she thought. Maybe it had been some kind of alcohol- induced temporary insanity. Because this was Faith they were talking about. Faith, who flirted with everyone and meant it with no one. Faith, who ran away when things got too real. Faith, who…

Who had taken care of her last night like she was important to Faith..

"Crap," Buffy whispered to her empty room.

She could hear voices downstairs, laughter and conversation drifting up through the floorboards. Everyone was probably already up and finishing breakfast, which meant she was going to have to go down there and see Faith and pretend everything was normal. Pretend she hadn't spent the night having revelations about feelings she definitely shouldn't be having.

She could do this. She was Buffy Summers. She'd faced apocalypses and gods and the literal embodiment of evil. She could handle having a crush.

Even if the crush was on Faith.

Even if Faith was sitting in her kitchen right now, probably looking all rumpled and gorgeous in that easy way she had, making everyone laugh with some story.

"Stop it," Buffy told herself firmly, throwing back the covers. "You're being ridiculous. It's just Faith. Same Faith as always. Nothing has changed."

Except everything had changed, because now she knew. Now she couldn't unknow.

She ran her fingers through her hair and tried to arrange her face into something that looked like normal Sunday morning Buffy instead of ‘I just realized I have feelings for my former enemy’ Buffy. She was still wearing the pajamas Faith had picked out for her the night before, the soft pants and Dawn's ridiculous "I'm Not Short, I'm Fun-Sized" t-shirt, which was probably going to be awkward enough without adding her current emotional crisis to the mix.

The voices got louder as she headed downstairs, and she could hear Faith's laugh cutting through the conversation, warm and genuine in a way that made something flutter in Buffy's stomach.

God, she was so screwed.

The kitchen was warm and bright despite the storm outside, filled with the comfortable chaos of people who'd clearly been up for hours. Empty plates were stacked by the sink, coffee mugs scattered across the counter, and the lingering smell of something amazing, cinnamon and butter and eggs, hung in the air.

Dawn was perched on the counter next to the coffee maker, while Xander and Andrew sat at the kitchen table with the remains of what looked like an epic breakfast spread. And Faith…

Faith was leaning against the counter next to the stove, mug of coffee in one hand, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail that should have looked terrible but somehow made her look beautiful instead. She was wearing a faded Red Sox t-shirt and pajama pants that hung low on her hips, and when she looked up and saw Buffy in the doorway, her face lit up with an easy smile.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Faith said, pushing off from the counter. "Look who finally decided to join the land of the living. How you feeling?"

Heat flooded Buffy's face so fast she felt dizzy. Just looking at Faith rumpled and relaxed and smiling at her like that was making her heart do things that hearts definitely shouldn't do. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck and hoped desperately that no one would notice.

"Fine," she managed, trying for casual and probably landing closer to awkward. "Just tired. You know how it is."

"You missed an awesome breakfast," Dawn said, gesturing at the empty dishes. "Faith made French toast and spinach frittatas. Like, actual good food instead of your usual burnt toast and prayer."

The blush got worse. Of course Faith had cooked for everyone. Of course she'd made something amazing while Buffy was upstairs sleeping off her emotional crisis. Because that's what Faith did, she took care of people without making a big deal about it. Except when had she started doing that? It just seemed like since Sunnydale, something had changed. 

Buffy felt her shoulders slump slightly as she looked at the empty plates. "Oh. Well, I guess I'll just…"

"I got you covered, B," Faith interrupted, moving toward the microwave. "Made you a plate before the troops could demolish everything."

She pulled out a plate covered with foil and set it on the counter, steam rising as she peeled back the covering. French toast that looked like something from a restaurant, perfectly fluffy eggs with spinach and cheese, even a few strips of bacon just the way Buffy liked them.

The blush that had been fading came back with a vengeance. Faith had made her a plate. Had thought about her.

"You didn't have to do that," Buffy said, staring at the plate like it might explode.

Faith shrugged, but there was something pleased in her expression. "No big deal. Figured you'd be hungry when you finally dragged yourself out of bed."

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Faith continued, stepping closer and studying Buffy's face with concern. "You coming down with something? You're looking kind of flushed."

"I'm fine," Buffy said quickly, taking a step back and nearly bumping into the doorframe. "Just... it's probably from all the drinks last night. You know..."

Xander looked up from his coffee. "Oh, some of the Slayers took Gemma shopping. Apparently it's going to be an all day thing because you know how teenage girls shop."

"Good for Gemma," Faith said, settling back against the counter. "Kid could use some normal teenager time."

Andrew looked up from what appeared to be a stack of research notes. "I've been looking into that ring from the museum. I think maybe Willow should take a look at it because it seems like it gives the user super strength, but… "

"No shit, Andrew," Faith interrupted with an amused snort. "We already figured that out when the demon went all Bane on us."

"Yeah, I know," Andrew said, not deterred by the sarcasm. "But it seems like it only works on demons, or maybe just that specific type of demon? That's why I think Willow should examine it. Maybe we can reprogram it or something."

Buffy sat down at the table, grateful for something to focus on besides Faith's concerned expression. "I can call the New Mexico house, have Kennedy let Willow know to give us a call."

“Giles called for you yesterday, Faith.” Dawn said, hopping down from the counter. "He said to give him a call when you can, something about an update on that Norway Slayer situation."

Faith's expression shifted slightly, something that might have been disappointment flickering across her face before she covered it with a casual shrug. "Yeah, I'll call him back later."

But Buffy caught it, that brief moment where Faith looked less than enthusiastic about getting back to work. Like maybe she wasn't quite ready to leave yet. Or maybe Buffy was just imagining things, seeing what she wanted to see.

The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts, and Dawn grabbed it on the second ring.

"Hello? Oh, hey guys." She listened for a moment, then grinned. "Yeah, okay. Have fun." She hung up and turned back to the group. "That was the mall crew. They're going to catch a movie after shopping, probably won't be back until late tonight."

"So it's just us then," Xander said, gesturing around the kitchen. "Lazy Sunday crew."

Andrew suddenly perked up, looking like he'd just remembered something exciting. "Oh! I just got The NeverEnding Story and Labyrinth on DVD! We should have a movie marathon."

Dawn clapped her hands together. "Yes! I love those movies. And with this weather, it's perfect for laying around and being completely unproductive."

"I'm in," Xander said. "As long as there's popcorn and I call dibs on the couch."

Faith looked around the group, then shrugged. "Why not? Beats staring at the rain all day."

Buffy took another bite of the French toast, which was, of course, absolutely perfect and tried not to think about spending the entire day in close quarters with Faith. "Sounds good," she said, hoping her voice came out normal. "Movie day it is."

An hour later, Buffy felt almost human again. The hot shower had washed away the last traces of club smoke and whatever emotional residue was left from her late night revelation, and she'd managed to find the perfect lounging outfit, soft yoga pants, an old t-shirt, and a navy blue Vans hoodie that was so worn and comfortable she couldn't remember where she'd gotten it. It was probably Dawn's, but it fit perfectly and smelled like fabric softener and something faintly spicy.

She padded downstairs to find everyone had migrated to the living room, which had been transformed into the perfect movie watching cave. The curtains were drawn against the storm, lamps cast warm pools of light, and someone had already queued up the first movie. Andrew was sprawled on the floor with a pile of pillows and a blanket, Dawn had claimed the big recliner, and Xander was stretched out on the couch like he planned to spend the next several hours there.

Faith was curled up on the loveseat, and when she saw Buffy, her face lit up with recognition.

"Hey, that's my hoodie!" she said, pointing an accusing finger. "I thought I lost that thing in Sydney. That some dingo probably made off with it."

Buffy looked down at the hoodie, heat creeping up her neck. Of course it was Faith's. That explained the spicy scent. "Oh. You want it back?" She started to pull it off, but Faith waved her away.

"Nah, it's cool. At least now I know where it is and some kangaroo isn't hopping around Australia in my clothes."

"I don't think kangaroos steal clothing," Andrew said seriously from the floor.

"You don't know Australian kangaroos," Faith shot back with a grin.

Buffy settled onto the loveseat next to Faith, leaving what she hoped was a casual amount of space between them. She could handle this. It was just watching movies. People did this all the time without having emotional breakdowns about the person sitting next to them.

"Alright," Dawn said, grabbing the remote. "Labyrinth first, then The NeverEnding Story. Prepare yourselves for peak 80s fantasy cheese."

The opening credits started, and Buffy tried to focus on the screen. She really did. But Faith had this way of watching movies that was completely distracting, she knew all the words to the songs, made little comments under her breath at the good parts, and had apparently seen this movie enough times to quote along with some of the dialogue.

When David Bowie made his first appearance, Faith leaned over, smirking. "Okay, but seriously... how did they not give Bowie's bulge its own billing? Like, 'And introducing... David Bowie's pants situation.'"

Buffy snorted, nearly spilling the popcorn bowl Dawn had passed her. "Oh my god, stop! But, fair... it's basically a supporting character at this point."

Faith's grin widened. "Supporting? That thing had more screen presence than half the goblins. I'm pretty sure it's responsible for at least three sexual awakenings per viewing."

"Only three?" Buffy found herself saying, mock scandalized. "Please, it was like the original 'Am I gay or just really into Jareth?' test."

Faith elbowed her lightly, and the casual contact sent a little jolt through Buffy's system. "Right? I mean, some of us didn't need the test... but, y'know, helpful for the rest of the class."

"Can you not corrupt the innocent minds in the room?" Buffy said, rolling her eyes but smiling despite herself. "Andrew's gonna need therapy after this."

"I'm right here!" Andrew protested from the floor. "And for your information, I already had questions before Bowie!"

Faith leaned back, laughing. "Guess he just provided the extra credit assignment."

And that was the problem, Buffy realized as she tried to refocus on the movie. Faith was funny. Not just sarcastic or witty, but genuinely funny in a way that made Buffy want to keep the conversation going just to see what she'd say next. When had that happened?

About twenty minutes into the movie, Faith got up to get drinks, asking if anyone needed anything. She came back from the kitchen with an armload of beverages, a Hi-C for Andrew, a six-pack of beer for her and Xander to share, and water bottles for Buffy and Dawn. She set everything on the coffee table, grabbed a beer for herself, then twisted a cap off a water bottle and handed it to Buffy, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Thanks," Buffy said, and Faith just nodded, already settling back into her spot on the loveseat.

Faith's leg started bouncing about halfway through the movie, a restless energy that made the whole couch vibrate slightly. She tapped her fingers against her beer bottle during the quiet scenes, sang along with the Goblin King's songs, and occasionally nudged Buffy when something particularly good was happening on screen.

"This part's great," she'd whisper, or "Watch his face here," and Buffy found herself paying more attention to Faith's commentary than to the actual movie.

Which was dangerous territory, because it meant she was watching Faith instead of the screen. Watching the way Faith's face lit up during the funny parts, how she mouthed along with dialogue she clearly knew by heart, the unconscious way she stretched and shifted position every few minutes.

When Faith reached across Buffy to grab some popcorn, their fingers brushed in the bowl, and Buffy's breath caught. It was nothing, just an accidental touch, but Faith caught her eye and smiled, one of those small, questioning smiles that made Buffy feel like Faith was seeing right through her.

She tried to smile back normally, but from the way Faith's eyebrows rose slightly, she probably looked as flustered as she felt.

Ugh, get it together, it’s just Faith. No biggie. Totally not a big deal at all. 

When the credits rolled, everyone got up for the traditional intermission activities, bathroom breaks, drink refills, popcorn replenishment. Buffy used the time to give herself a mental pep talk about acting normal, but when they all settled back in for The NeverEnding Story, Faith sat down and swung her legs over Buffy's lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like this was something they did.

Buffy tensed up before she could stop herself, and Faith paused, looking at her with concern.

"This okay?" Faith asked, starting to pull her legs back.

"No, no, that's fine," Buffy said quickly, probably too quickly. "This is fine. You're fine."

Faith gave her a long, questioning look that clearly said 'okay, what's wrong with you?' but she settled back against the arm of the loveseat, her legs draped comfortably across Buffy's thighs.

And Buffy was definitely not fine. Because now she had Faith's legs in her lap, could feel the warmth of them through her yoga pants, and she had no idea what to do with her hands. The popcorn bowl helped, Dawn passed it over again, and Buffy could rest it on Faith's shins and have something to focus on besides the fact that Faith was basically sprawled across her.

For a few minutes, she managed to convince herself this was normal. Just two people watching a movie, sharing space on a couch. Friends did this all the time, right? She could handle this.

But then Faith started singing along with the theme song, her voice blending with Dawn's as they both belted out the lyrics with obvious nostalgia.

"We used to sing this all the time with our VHS copy," Dawn said during a quiet moment. "Buffy knew all the words too, but she's too cool for theme songs now."

"I am not too cool," Buffy protested. "I just don't want to subject everyone to my singing voice."

"Your voice is fine," Faith said, settling back against the cushions. "Besides, it's not about being good. It's about the experience."

For a second, Buffy let herself imagine this being normal. Movie days, Faith sprawled across her lap, no one having to leave for the next crisis. Just... this.

The thought should have been scary. Instead, it felt warm and right in a way that made her body buzz. 

About halfway through the movie, Xander groaned and stretched. "I'm starving," he announced. "All this epic questing is making me want real food."

"Pizza?" Dawn suggested hopefully.

"Pizza," Xander agreed, already reaching for the cordless phone. "The usual?"

They spent a few minutes debating toppings. Faith wanted pepperoni and mushroom, Andrew requested something with vegetables to balance out the junk food, Dawn didn't care as long as there was extra cheese and then Xander placed the order.

When the pizzas arrived, Faith had to sit up properly to eat, and Buffy immediately missed the weight of her legs, the casual intimacy of shared space. She was annoyed with herself for missing it, for caring about something so small, for acting like a teenager with her first crush.

But Faith didn't move back to her original position after they finished eating. She stayed sitting up, leg bouncing with increasing restlessness as the movie continued.

"I wish I had a luck dragon," Dawn sighed during one of Falkor's flying scenes.

"Actually," Andrew said from the floor, "there's a type of demon that looks a lot like a luck dragon. Only it's not as nice. It breathes fire to roast its food before eating it, and people are its favorite snack."

Dawn glared at him. "Thanks for ruining that for me, Andrew."

"Just saying, be careful what you wish for."

Faith laughed, but her leg was bouncing faster now, and she kept shifting position like she couldn't get comfortable. She stretched, raising her arms above her head in a way that made her shirt ride up slightly, exposing a strip of toned stomach. Buffy's mouth went dry, and she definitely didn't stare at the exposed skin. Definitely not.

During the swamp scene, when Artax was sinking, Buffy caught the glint of tears in Faith's eyes. Faith must have felt her looking because she turned and caught Buffy watching her.

"Not a word," Faith warned.

"About what? What a softy you are?," Buffy said with a small grin.

Faith immediately grabbed a throw pillow and whacked Buffy with it, nearly making her spill the popcorn bowl. "Shut up," Faith muttered, settling back against the couch.

But Faith caught her looking again during other parts of the movie, and when their eyes met, Faith's smile was smaller this time, more curious than amused. Like she was trying to figure out what was going on with Buffy but wasn't quite ready to ask.

Watching Faith like this, relaxed and comfortable and genuinely happy, made something ache in Buffy's chest. Not the good kind of ache she'd been feeling all day, but something sadder. When was the last time she'd seen Faith this at ease with all of them? Maybe if they'd had more moments like this when they were teenagers, just hanging out, being normal, everything else might have gone differently.

When the credits finally rolled, Faith immediately started mocking the ending. "Sebastian! Say my name!" she called out dramatically, making Dawn giggle.

Everyone started getting up, stretching and collecting empty pizza boxes, bottles and popcorn bowls. The storm was still going strong outside, rain pelting the windows in steady sheets.

"Okay," Faith said, standing up and rolling her shoulders. "I've been sitting still for way too long. I need to move before I vibrate out of my skin." She looked at Buffy. "Wanna spar? Get some of this energy out?"

Buffy's stomach did a little flip. Sparring. With Faith. After spending all day tracking every move Faith made. "Sure," she heard herself say, trying to keep the hesitation out of her voice. "Sounds good."

But inside, she was having a minor freak out. Because sparring with Faith meant close contact, meant sweat and heavy breathing and all kinds of physical intensity that she was definitely not prepared to handle right now.

The basement was warm and quiet, insulated from the storm raging outside. The training room was exactly what Buffy needed right now, familiar, controlled, a place where she knew the rules. She could handle sparring with Faith. They'd done it dozens of times before. The fact that she'd spent the entire day keenly aware of Faith's every movement was irrelevant.

Completely irrelevant.

Faith was already stretching when Buffy made it downstairs, rolling her shoulders and loosening up in a sports bra and yoga pants that should have been illegal. Buffy tried not to stare at the way Faith's muscles moved under her skin as she bent and twisted, warming up like this was just another normal training session.

This was a mistake. This was definitely a mistake.

"You gonna stretch or just stand there watching me?" Faith asked with a grin, not even looking over.

Heat flooded Buffy's face. "I'm stretching," she said defensively, dropping down to touch her toes just to prove a point.

They went through their usual warm-up routine, jumping jacks, lunges, basic combinations in the air. Normal stuff that should have felt normal, except Buffy kept finding herself distracted by the sound of Faith's breathing, the way sweat was already starting to gather at the base of her neck, the sleek way Faith moved through the familiar motions.

"You good?" Faith asked, pausing mid stretch to look at her. "You seem a little... off."

"I'm fine," Buffy said quickly. "Just getting warmed up."

Faith studied her for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Alright. You ready?"

Buffy nodded and moved to the center of the mat, taking her usual fighting stance. This was good. This was familiar territory. She could do this.

Faith circled her slowly, and Buffy tracked her movement, waiting for the first attack. When it came, it was a standard combination, jab, cross, hook, that Buffy blocked easily. They traded a few more basic exchanges, testing each other's reflexes, getting a feel for the rhythm.

"Come on, B," Faith said, bouncing on her toes. "I know you've got more than that."

Buffy did have more than that, but she was having trouble concentrating. Because Faith kept getting close, closer than she usually did during their sparring. Instead of her typical hit and move style, Faith was going for grappling moves, takedowns, moves that brought them into more physical contact.

When Faith shot in for a double leg takedown, Buffy shifted to defend, but Faith adjusted smoothly, wrapping her arms around Buffy's waist and taking her to the ground anyway. They hit the mat in a tangle of limbs, Faith's body pressed against hers, both of them breathing hard from the sudden exertion.

Well, that was new. Being pinned by Faith had never made her feel... whatever this was before.

"Got you," Faith murmured, her mouth close enough to Buffy's ear that she could feel the warmth of her breath.

Buffy's heart rate spiked, and it had nothing to do with the takedown. She managed to roll and escape, scrambling back to her feet, but her hands were shaking slightly as she reset her stance.

Get it together. It's just sparring.

Faith was grinning now, that cocky expression that meant she'd noticed something. "You okay there? You're looking a little flushed."

"I'm fine," Buffy said for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Maybe you're just working on your ground game more than usual."

"Maybe," Faith said, but there was something in her voice that made Buffy's stomach flip. Like Faith was testing something, seeing how far she could push.

They went back to sparring, but Faith kept going for the wrestling moves, hip tosses, leg sweeps, anything that put them on the ground together. Each time they ended up pressed against each other, breathing heavy, and each time Buffy found it harder to focus on actually fighting back.

Faith seemed to notice. She was getting cockier with each successful takedown, her movements more fluid and confident. When she managed to pin Buffy against the wall, one hand on her wrist, the other pressed against the mat next to her head, Buffy's breath caught. Faith's entire body was pressed against hers, warm and solid and close enough that Buffy could feel her heartbeat. Faith leaned in even closer.

"You sure you're feeling alright?" she asked, her voice lower than usual. "Your defense is usually better than this."

Buffy could smell Faith's shampoo, could feel the heat radiating from her skin. "I'm fine," she managed to say, though her voice came out breathier than intended.

Faith's pupils dilated slightly, and for a moment they just stared at each other, the space between them charged with something Buffy couldn't name. Then Faith pushed off the wall and stepped back, that cocky grin spreading across her face.

"If you say so," Faith said, and Buffy felt like she was walking a tightrope. If Faith kept this up, the closeness, the loaded comments, the way she was looking at her, Buffy was going to crack.

The footsteps on the stairs made them both turn. Dawn appeared in the doorway with a basket of laundry, glancing between them with curious eyes.

"Don't mind me," Dawn said, heading for the laundry room. "Just switching loads. Pretend I'm not here."

She disappeared into the laundry room, and they could hear her humming to herself as she transferred clothes from washer to dryer.

"Where were we?" Faith asked, moving back to the center of the mat.

Buffy tried to get her head back in the game, but Faith was definitely more aggressive now, more intense. Every takedown lingered a little longer than necessary, every pin involved more body contact than was strictly required for training. And Faith was talking more too, making little comments that sounded innocent enough but felt loaded with meaning.

"Nice try, B, but you're gonna have to do better than that," Faith said after successfully defending against one of Buffy's attacks.

"You're getting slow in your old age," Faith teased when Buffy didn't react fast enough to counter a leg sweep.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Faith asked when Buffy failed to respond to her banter.

Each comment made Buffy more flustered, more distracted, and Faith seemed to pick up on it immediately. She was taking advantage of every moment of distraction, every split second when Buffy's concentration wavered.

Dawn emerged from the laundry room and headed back upstairs. "I've got homework to finish," she called over her shoulder. "Try not to kill each other."

And then they were alone again, just the two of them in the warm, enclosed space of the training room, the sound of their breathing and the distant rumble of thunder the only things breaking the silence.

Faith was definitely showing off now, pulling off more complex moves, taking risks she wouldn't normally take. She was getting overconfident, Buffy realized, drunk on the fact that she was winning more exchanges than usual.

"Come on, Buffy," Faith said, circling her again. "I thought you were supposed to be the better fighter."

That stung, and Buffy felt a flash of competitive anger cut through her distraction. She refocused, really looked at Faith's stance, her movement patterns, the way she was holding herself.

Faith was being flashy, showing off, which meant she was falling back into old habits. Predictable habits.

When Faith moved in for what was clearly going to be another takedown attempt, Buffy watched her hips, the way they shifted just before Faith committed to the attack. Faith always telegraphed her roundhouse kicks the same way, a slight dip of the left shoulder, a shift of weight to her right foot.

Buffy saw it coming from a mile away.

Faith launched the kick, putting some heat behind it, and Buffy ducked under it smoothly, grabbing Faith's extended leg and sweeping her other foot out from under her. Faith went down hard, and Buffy followed her to the mat, using Faith's own momentum to pin her flat on her back.

"Got you," Buffy said, breathing hard as she straddled Faith's waist, her hands pinning Faith's wrists to the mat on either side of her head.

Faith looked up at her, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment, neither of them moved, both of them trying to catch their breath. The position was intimate in a way that had nothing to do with sparring, Buffy on top, Faith underneath her, their faces only inches apart.

Oh God. This was not helping the situation at all. Faith spread out beneath her, breathing hard, looking up at her like that... Buffy's brain was definitely not thinking about sparring anymore.

"Well," Faith said finally, her voice rougher than usual, "you got me where you want me. Now what?"

The question hung in the air between them, loaded with more meaning than it should have had. Buffy stared down at Faith, at the way her hair was spread across the mat, at the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, at the way Faith's eyes seemed to be asking something Buffy wasn't sure she was ready to answer.

Faith's pupils were definitely dilated now, and Buffy could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse where their wrists were pressed together. The sound of their breathing seemed amplified in the quiet room, and Buffy realized she could smell Faith's perfume underneath the clean scent of sweat.

Almost without thinking, Buffy's gaze dropped to Faith's lips. They were slightly parted, and Faith's tongue darted out to wet them in a gesture that was probably unconscious but made Buffy's mouth go completely dry.

Faith's breathing hitched, and when Buffy looked back up, Faith was staring at her with an intensity that made everything else fade away. Like they were the only two people in the world, like this moment was balanced on the edge of something that could change everything.

Buffy felt herself leaning down, drawn by some magnetic pull she couldn't resist. Faith's eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting slightly, and they were so close Buffy could feel Faith's breath against her mouth…

"Hey, did you guys see my…oh!"

Dawn's voice from the top of the stairs made them both freeze. Buffy jerked back like she'd been burned, scrambling off Faith and to her feet so fast she nearly lost her balance.

"Sorry!" Dawn called down, her footsteps already retreating. "Never mind! Found it!"

Buffy stood there breathing hard, staring down at Faith, who was still lying on the mat looking dazed and slightly disheveled. The spell was broken, the moment shattered, and Buffy felt panic rising in her throat like bile.

Had she really almost just kissed Faith? Had she really been about to…

"That was a good workout," Buffy said quickly, her voice coming out too high and too fast. "I should go shower. Good training session. Thanks for the, uh, the workout."

She was backing toward the stairs as she spoke, not trusting herself to get any closer to Faith, who was now sitting up on her elbows and watching her with an expression Buffy couldn't read.

"Buffy-" Faith started to say.

"I really need to shower," Buffy interrupted, already halfway up the stairs. "See you later."

She fled upstairs, leaving Faith alone in the training room, and didn't stop until she was safely behind her bedroom door with her heart pounding and her hands shaking and the terrifying realization that she'd almost kissed Faith.

And worse, much worse, was the fact that Faith had almost let her.

Buffy stood in her room for a long moment, back pressed against the door, trying to catch her breath. What the hell had just happened down there? One second they were sparring, the next she was on top of Faith, staring at her lips, about to...

She pushed off from the door and headed straight for her bathroom. A shower. That's what she needed. A long, hot shower to wash away the sweat and the confusion and the memory of Faith's body pressed against hers.

The water was scalding, but Buffy stood under it anyway, letting it pound against her shoulders and back until her skin was pink and the bathroom was thick with steam. She shampooed her hair twice, scrubbed her skin until it stung, anything to distract herself from replaying those moments on the training mat.

Faith's pupils blown wide. The way she'd said "now what?" like she was actually asking. The way she'd gone completely still when Buffy started leaning down, like she was waiting for something she wanted.

Buffy turned the water even hotter and tried to think about something else. Anything else. The weather. The properties Giles had sent over. Whether they needed more coffee for the kitchen. Normal, safe things that had nothing to do with Faith or the way Faith had looked at her or the fact that Buffy had been about to kiss her and Faith had been about to let her.

By the time she finally got out of the shower, her skin was bright red and her fingers were pruned, but she didn't feel any less confused. She pulled on her pajamas and was heading to her room when she heard Faith's voice through her closed bedroom door.

Buffy paused in the hallway, not quite close enough to make out words but able to tell that Faith was on the phone with someone. Her voice sounded different, more serious, less relaxed than it had been all day. Business, maybe. Or maybe someone she was seeing that Buffy didn’t know about.

The thought made Buffy's stomach clench. She hurried to her own room and shut the door firmly behind her, not wanting to hear any more. Whatever Faith was saying, whoever she was talking to, it was none of Buffy's business.

She climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of the day. The club last night, her realization about her feelings, the movie marathon where she'd spent hours tracking Faith's every movement, and then the sparring session that had ended with them almost...

Buffy rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. She was so screwed. Because even if Faith had been about to let her kiss her, that didn't mean anything. Faith flirted with everyone. Faith kissed people all the time without it meaning anything. And Buffy was just the latest person to get caught up in Faith's orbit and mistake casual attraction for something more.

Buffy woke to gray morning light filtering through her curtains after a restless night full of dreams about dark eyes and sparring mats. She checked her clock, 6:27 AM. Might as well get up. The storm had finally passed, leaving the world outside looking washed clean and quiet.

She pulled on a robe and was heading downstairs when she heard the front door open. Xander walked in, keys in hand and looking like he'd been up for a while.

"You're up early," Buffy said, tying her robe more securely around her waist.

Xander looked up, seeming slightly surprised to see her. "Oh, hey Buffster. Yeah, just finished dropping Faith off at the airport for her flight to Norway."

The words hit Buffy like a physical blow. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stare at Xander as the meaning of what he'd said sank in.

Faith was gone. She'd left. Without saying goodbye, without a note, without any indication that she was planning to leave this morning instead of staying for a few more days like she'd said.

"She's gone?" Buffy managed to ask, her voice coming out smaller than she'd intended.

"Yeah, caught the first flight out. Something about the Norway situation being more urgent than Giles thought." Xander was looking at her with concern now. "Are you okay? You look kind of pale."

Buffy nodded automatically, even though she felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. Faith had run. Again. Just like she always did when things got too real, too complicated, too close to meaning something.

"I'm fine," Buffy said, the lie coming easily after years of practice. "Just tired. Didn’t sleep well."

But she wasn't fine. Because Faith had left without saying goodbye, and Buffy was pretty sure she knew why.

Son of a bitch. Faith had run again.

Five weeks.

It had been five weeks since Faith had run away after their almost kiss in the basement training room, and Buffy was done pretending it didn't matter. Done pretending she didn't think about Faith every single day, wondering where she was, what she was doing, whether she ever thought about that moment when they'd been an inch apart and everything had changed.

The trip to Scotland with Giles had been perfect timing. The castle he'd shown her was everything they needed for their new headquarters, spacious, secure, and isolated enough to train dozens of Slayers without attracting unwanted attention. It was exactly what they'd been looking for, and Buffy had signed the papers without hesitation.

But when Giles had casually mentioned that Faith was in London, wrapping up some situation with a rogue Slayer, Buffy's heart had done that same stuttering thing it had been doing for five weeks every time someone mentioned Faith's name.

That's when she'd made her decision.

She'd called Ava, the head of London's Slayer squad, the moment she'd gotten back to her hotel. Had the entire team out looking for Faith within hours, with strict instructions not to let Faith know she was being tracked. Just find her and report back.

The call had come twenty minutes ago. Faith was at a club in the West End, had been there for about an hour, looked like she was settling in for the night.

Of course she was at a club. Some things never changed.

Now Buffy stood outside that club in London’s West End, checking her reflection one last time in the darkened window of the shop next door. She'd spent an hour getting ready, choosing the perfect outfit, a light pink halter top that left her midriff and shoulders exposed, tight white capri pants, and heels that made her legs look endless. Her makeup emphasized her eyes and made her lips look like an invitation. If she was going to do this, if she was going to walk in there and lay her heart on the line, she was damn well going to look amazing while doing it.

Her hands were shaking slightly as she smoothed down her shirt, but her resolve was steady. She was tired of running from this. Tired of pretending she didn't want Faith, didn't care about Faith, didn't dream about Faith every night and wake up aching for something she'd been too scared to reach for.

The bass from inside the club thrummed through the sidewalk under her feet, and Buffy could see flashes of colored light through the windows. Somewhere in there, Faith was dancing, or flirting, or doing whatever Faith did when she was trying to forget about things that scared her.

Well, Buffy was done being something Faith needed to forget.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked through the front doors.

The club was packed, bodies moving together on the dance floor under pulsing lights that turned everything into a kaleidoscope of color and shadow. The music was loud enough to feel in her chest, and the air was thick with heat and perfume and the energy of people losing themselves in the rhythm.

Buffy scanned the crowd, her heart pounding in time with the beat, and then she saw her.

Faith was in the middle of the dance floor, moving like liquid fire, her dark hair catching the light as she spun and swayed. She was wearing a tight dark cutoff t-shirt, dark jean jacket, and ripped jeans that showed off strips of her toned legs, and she looked absolutely stunning. She looked like everything Buffy had been missing for five weeks, everything she'd been too afraid to admit she wanted.

Their eyes met across the crowded room, and Faith's entire body went still. Even from this distance, Buffy could see the shock on her face, the way her lips parted in surprise, the way her eyes widened like she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.

Buffy's heart skipped a beat, then started racing faster than the music that surrounded them.

She took a deep, determined breath and started walking toward Faith, pushing through the crowd with single-minded purpose. Whatever happened next, whatever Faith said or did, at least Buffy would finally know. At least she would have tried.

At least she would have been brave enough to fight for what she wanted.

The rest of the world faded away as she closed the distance between them, leaving only Faith's dark eyes and the promise of everything Buffy had been too scared to reach for.

Until now.