Buffy Anne Summers never asked for much, cosmic scales considered. You save the world a couple of dozen times, you earn a pair of Jimmy Choo’s. Her finger clicked the mouse of her laptop, prompting the cursor to add yet another pair of designer heels to her online cart.

She deserved them.

You see five years ago everything had truly gone to shit. Magic being unwritten, creatures called zompires happening, and her father making an appearance at the worst possible time were just a few blips on the Slayer’s radar. Then Angel sacrificed himself for the greater good, allowing magic to be rewritten in the name of balance—not to mention zompires had been nearly all killed off—and left the world with a hesitant peace. His death, her loss—their loss, was the ending to a war hard won, and for the first time in a long time, everything seemed harmonious.

Slayers were slaying, witches were witching things, demons were being all demon-y. In the time since, the world found a normalcy in the face of the supernatural cat being let out of the bag. Buffy’s life was by no means simple, yet in the last two years, she found an ease and comfort to its perpetually complicated existence.

Hell, she was even getting married in less than a week.

Buffy felt she was exactly where she needed to be and so were those closest to her.

Willow presided over all things magics, in a very non-evilly way, and with Kennedy talking on the role of head slayer at Slayer Central, they presented themselves quite the power couple.

Dawn and Xander were quite the dynamic duo running the Operational and Watcher departments of Slayer Central North America in San Francisco, while also being one of the cutest couples ever.

Spike and Fred, having found love after Angel's death, kept Slayer Central Europe running smoothly.

Giles, who remained in the form of a pubescent teenager after his last run-in with a witch, still served as a mentor and worked passionately with helping reformed slayers. Buffy knew it was his way of remembering another slayer.

"Everyone deserves a chance to live their life. She just needed to live hers away from us," fifteen-year-old Giles would comment, only to receive one of Buffy's non-committal responses.

He never gave her that choice.

Buffy shook her head and refused to think about Faith again, even though it was impossible most days.

She sighed and clicked ‘Purchase’ on the screen.

After the world began to spin as it should again, Buffy found herself being placed in the ultimate position of power by being the face of good presented to the world. She had helped save existence in a big way, and in this, every being (both good and evil, human and otherwise) held her in highest esteem. She became a political celebrity on a global scale, earning presidential medals, government funding, and a key to every city in the United States.

The ceremony to receive the key to San Francisco was in fact how she met her fiancé, Mayor Dalton Maddox.

Dalton possessed an old Hollywood charm and style. He was driven, idealistic, and good. He supported her wholeheartedly without ever expecting anything in return. She never felt like she had to choose between being Buffy—the thirty-five-year old woman who enjoyed plain yogurt and shopping—and Buffy, the kickass slayer and force for good.

Dalton rarely got angry, always quick to diplomacy in the face of a brash political climate. It was the quality Buffy most-valued in him. He volunteered at orphanages and homeless shelters every weekend, and ran five miles every morning before work.

In closing, Mayor Dalton Maddox was perfect.

Most importantly, everyone in Buffy's life adored her husband-to-be as much as she did. It was for this reason that after two years of dating, she could only answer yes to the charismatic mayor's marriage proposal in front of her closest friends and family.

And now ten months later, their wedding was less than a week away and Buffy had barely slept a wink in days.

She brushed it off as pre-wedding jitters because of course that was a thing, but it seemed more complicated than that. It was if something was missing or someone—

A knock on her office door stirred Buffy from her reverie. She blinked once, twice, granting a distant Come in to whoever was on the other side of the barrier.

"Hey Buff!" Willow's bright smile made her immediately grin in return.

"Hi, Will," Buffy said, closing her laptop.

"Ready to go?"

"Give me a minute to shut everything down," Buffy said, shuffling a stack of papers into a neat pile.

Willow Rosenburg, wicca extraordinaire, smiled at her best friend and walked towards the wall of windows overlooking the city. Buffy's view stretched beyond Golden Gate Bridge and it made her a little jealous on clear days like today. Being the kind friend, she was, Buffy had of course offered to switch offices with Willow when they bought the building, but Willow was content to simply have had the offer.

"So, are you like super excited or super scared?" Willow asked.

"Super both?" Buffy responded. "I mean I can't believe it's finally happening. It's like really really happening and... I don't know. I keep getting this forgett-y feeling. Like when you leave the house and wonder if you've left the stove on."

"Oh, Buff, please tell me you haven't been cooking again," Willow said dutifully, her smirk perfectly intact.

"You're so not funny, Will. And no, I haven't used the stove… I mean not since last time." Buffy huffed. You set one measly fire and you're ridiculed for life.

"I'm just kidding, and it wasn't just one fire, honey."

Buffy glared at her best friend. "Hey! You know the rules. No mind reading thingy without consent, Miss Mistress of the Dark Arts."

"Sorry," Willow said, looking properly chastised. "Hey, I actually kinda like that nickname. Sounds like a bedroom persona Ken would totally be into."

"Eww and you're welcome."

"I do understand what you mean about the forgett-y feeling," Willow responded, holding the door for Buffy. They made their way down the corridor to the elevator and Willow pressed the button for the garage upon them stepping onboard. "Maybe it's something you've yet to cross off your wedding to-do list. Flowers?"

Buffy shook her head, her blonde shoulder length hair catching on the lapel of her blazer. "Dawn had those confirmed last week."

"Food, dress, cake?"

"Check, check, check."

Willow hummed as the bell dinged signaling their arrival to the basement level. A black limousine awaited them, and Buffy shrieked in excitement.

"Will, oh my god!"

"It's a gift from your future hubby. Since you were so insistent on having your besties drive up to the venue together, Dalton wanted us all to be able to enjoy it. My orders were to pick you up, then everyone else, including Mr. Mayor himself from city hall, then drive directly to Napa for three days of festivities ending in your wedding to said Mr. Mayor," Willow repeated dutifully in nearly a single breath. "And I'm pretty impressed with myself, and Dawnie, for keeping it secret."

"Hey! I can keep a secret!" Dawn huffed, standing from the luxury vehicle as soon as the chauffeur opened the rear door.

Willow laughed and Buffy hugged her sister before all three of them slid into the limo. Three glasses of champagne awaited them, and several other empty glasses awaited the upcoming passengers.

"Dawnie, when did you get back from New York?" Buffy asked, kicking off her heels and stretching out on the back seat.

"I came back a day early. Couldn't pass up a ride to Napa in a freaking Hummer limousine that runs on clean fuel," Dawn said with a shrug. "Besides three days of wine and relaxation is all I could think about these last few weeks."

"Tell me about it," Willow said, raising her glass for a toast. "To Buffy's Wedding." They each downed their glass before Dawn promptly refilled them.

“Oh, Buff! It's the flower girl you're forgetting, right?" Willow asked, resuming her and Buffy’s previous conversation.

Buffy pouted. "No. I mean we're still missing one of those since there's apparently a shortage of adorable little girls in the world. I had such a cute dress picked out, too."

"Just say the word and I can de-age Giles a few years and give him a sex change," Willow said.

The three women giggled before Buffy responded, "Please don't. He's angsty enough as is. Jeez, were we that angry in high school."

"Was? Still is," Dawn said, nudging her sister.

They continued their spirited conversation about the days ahead as the limo navigated the light city traffic. Leaving in the middle of a workday was already working out in their favor.

"Before I forget, there was a late minute RSVP," Dawn informed, pouring her third glass of bubbly.

Buffy stiffened. Four people. Four people hadn't responded to the invitation, but she only cared about one of them being there. Okay, two. Cordelia was an original Scooby, unfortunately, and that made her special, even if they weren't necessarily close. But Faith...

Nope. She wasn't going down that road again. She hadn't heard from Faith in five years.

After Angel's death, the formerly rogue, turned heroic slayer retired. She kept in touch with very few people, and those who did know her whereabouts, didn't shed much light upon the mystery.

And Buffy absolutely did not care.

"And of course, it's Cordelia," Dawn continued. "Something about her filming in Vancouver and not receiving the invitation, which just means she waited to RSVP at the last minute for dramatic effect. And she's bringing two guests. Two!"

Willow scoffed. "Classic Cordy. Twenty bucks says it's her hair dresser and stylist."

Both women missed the brief look of disappointment on the bride-to-be's face before it was quickly masked with a hollow smile. “Well, good thing we had the extra cabin still open on the property. We also have one room in the main house if someone else decides to show up outta the blue."

"Don't jinx it!" Willow said vehemently.

"Cordelia has decided to come, Will. We're already jinxed." Buffy chuckled, clinking her glass against her best friend’s.

----

"Who wants pancakes?" Faith chirped, turning off the stove and placing the final fritter onto the serving plate at her side.

"I do, I do!" The little girl at the kitchen table answered animatedly, squealing when her mother came over and placed two pancakes onto her plate. Faith scooped several berries, chocolate chips, and banana slices onto the platter as well. "Thanks, Mommy!"

"Of course, baby girl," Faith said fondly. "Remember, whoever makes the best pancake face gets to pick our movie tonight."

"You going down, Mommy," the little girl stated, her little fingers busy placing banana eyes on a pancake.

Faith laughed and rubbed her hand over her daughter's curly black hair. She never thought this would be her life, her own childhood too fucked up to imagine a loving home, but Joy had changed everything. From the moment she saw dark brown eyes settled against almond brown skin, Faith knew she would do anything to protect her baby girl from the terrors she so valiantly fought against, once upon a time.

"Ta-da!" Joy announced, a huge smile stretching across her dimpled cheeks. "I beat you, Mommy."

Faith sighed dramatically in faux defeat. She herself had only given her pancake blueberry eyes and a banana smile, as she always did. Joy would win—fair and square of course—with her using all the provided ingredients.

"Hmm. I guess that means you get to pick our movie tonight and I get to... Tickle you!" Faith quickly ticked her daughter's belly making the child squirm.

"Stop it, Mommy," Joy laughed loudly.

"Never!" Faith responded, though she ended her tickle assault in favor of pecking her daughter's cheeks. As Joy settled back down to eat her breakfast, Faith filled her daughter's plastic Mulan cup with orange juice. Right before she could take her seat again to eat her own breakfast, the doorbell rang.

Faith headed for the door, not too concerned with it being an evil entity at seven-thirty in the morning, although upon answering it, she reconsidered the whole evil entity not being up early thing.

"Queen C, what are you doing here?" Faith asked as she moved away from the door, keeping her body away from the still frigid Toronto air. "I thought you were coming tomorrow."

Cordelia Chase waltzed in as if she owned the place, discarding her snow-covered cashmere scarf and peacoat to hang on the available hooks by the door.

"I finished filming a day early and I couldn't wait to see my precious niece another minute," Cordelia said, pulling Faith into a brief hug. "Speaking of, where is she?"

Faith gestured to the kitchen and followed the newly arrived guest after locking the front door. She smiled fondly at the scene awaiting her back in the kitchen. Seeing Joy with Cordy filled her with a warmth she'd so rarely felt. The three got together a few times a year for holidays and vacations, Cordelia easily cementing her place as Joy's favorite aunt (second to Aunt Kenny... sometimes).

Who would've thought the label snob from high school who called her slutty would become her best friend in the entire world? Life was funny that way.

Faith moved to the French press set on the countertop and poured Cordelia a cup of black coffee, knowing for a fact the starlet didn't consume dairy or sugar.

"Aunt Cordy! Mommy gots me a bunny wabbit! Look!" Joy bellowed around a mouthful of pancake, gesturing to said purple bunny lying on the table and now appropriately covered in syrup.

"That's so awesome, sweetheart! Your Mommy's a great mommy!" Cordelia said back, glancing at her best friend as she did.

Joy nodded enthusiastically and Faith swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

Faith never expected to be a mother, but she took to it like a fish to water. Every moment raising her little girl felt like a gift and she treasured moments like this most of all. Having friends was something she never expected either, especially the likes of Cordelia, but she couldn't complain.

Her time with Angel and the LA crew had been the turning point in her life. And though she couldn't be more grateful for what she had now, sometimes she still felt as if something was missing.

Not allowing herself to contemplate that further, Faith tuned into Joy and Cordelia's excited chatter until she instructed her daughter to go get dressed for their day at the science museum.

Joy whined until her favorite aunt promised her several gifts awaiting her in the car outside.

"You spoil her," Faith groaned as Joy bounded up the stairs to her room.

"I'm her aunt. It's my job," Cordelia answered easily.

Faith smiled and started clearing away the dishes. "So, how was the rest of the job, Queen C?"

"A complete shitshow. Not one tolerable, let alone talented, person in the entire cast."

"You say that about every job."

"Your point?"

Faith chuckled, refilling her cup of coffee. Same ol', Queen C.

"So, how's the shop?" Cordelia asked, popping a blueberry into her mouth.

"Wicked. We finally got sponsorship through Ducati. And I'm still teaching the junior self-defense classes a few times a week," Faith said. "Joy started a few weeks ago."

Cordelia gasped. "You bitch! I want pictures of my adorable niece kicking ass."

"Christ, woman. I’ll send some," Faith said, holding up placating hands. "Might even be the Christmas card."

Their conversation carried on and Faith again thought herself lucky to have Cordelia as a friend. Sure, she craved a romantic relationship like any other person these days, but definitely not with Queen C. Besides a few drunken nights of ending up in bed together throughout the years, both women agreed they were doing nothing more than scratching an itch.

Though they also agreed they scratched each other well.

"Okay, full disclosure, I also came early because I needed to ask you something, but before I do, you have to agree to it,” Cordelia said. She looked distracted and her gaze was fleeting.

“And why would I agree to something I ain't heard?" Faith asked.

"Trust?"

"Try again."

"Fine," Cordelia sighed. "I have to attend Buffy's wedding and I want you and Joy to come with me."

Faith coughed, spitting some of her coffee back into her cup. She wiped the rest from her chin with the back of her hand. "You can't be serious."

"My dear, Faith, I so rarely joke."

"My answer is hell no.” Was Cordelia out of her mind? Faith thought.

"I think we both know why you need to come with me." Cordelia leveled Faith with her signature I'm going to set you straight eyebrow.

"Listen, I know what you think you think you know, but I don't have feelings for B. Not anymore. Not for a while," Faith stated, pacing the kitchen floor.

She didn't even remember deciding to stand up. And just like that, the mere idea of possibly seeing Buffy again was making her feel crazy.

"Then why not come with me? Ken will be there. And to be quite honest, I’m tired of the routine check-ins in regards to you,” Cordelia said.

“Someone’s been asking about me?” Faith replied, taking the bait and realizing it too late at Cordelia’s smirk.

“No one in particular.”

“Whatever. I’m not going.”

“Believe it or not, Mistress of Broody and Angst, everyone actually misses you. And by everyone, I mean everyone."

"Then I’ll make sure to send them a Christmas card, but sorry Queen C. No way am I sitting through some church thing to watch the world's blondest superhero and San Francisco's most eligible politician get all lovey-dovey. I'll just watch clips on YouTube like the rest of the world."

"Well, I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I invoke Fred’s Law," Cordelia said casually, examining the cream polish on her fingernails.

And acting as if the cracking thunder and flashes of lightning within the kitchen was just normal.

“Mommy, is there a storm?” Joy yelled from upstairs.

“No, baby. Aunt Cordy is just being a huge pain in the butt,” Faith answered her daughter, leveling a glare at the actress.

“You gotta be nice, Aunt Cordy, cause being nice makes people happy,” Joy called out.

“You’re right, sweet darling. And I promise to be nice, but your Mommy is just being a big baby,” Cordelia answered back sweetly.

“Oh, fuck you,” Faith whispered furiously to avoid her daughter’s keen hearing. “This is low, even for you.”

Fred's Law—also known as the three-way pact between herself, Cordelia, and Fred—came into existence during her first stint in Los Angeles with the crew. It was the culmination of what happened when a drunk game of chicken got out of hand with a friend who moonlit as a god.

The oath was simple: one had to agree to one favor from the other two members if the law was invoked. Between the three of them, Cordelia was yet to collect her favor from Faith, and Faith had yet to collect her own from Fred. After the last two favors were complete, the stupid blood pact made using Illyria’s blood would be broken.

And most important, refusal to go through with a request after Fred’s Law was invoked resorted in death.

And after they’d explained the accidental blood oath to Angel the next day, he forbade from ever drinking on St. Patrick’s Day again.

"Please don't make me do this," Faith said softly. Even with the anger still on the surface, fear began to get the better of her. Her chest tightened as thoughts of watching the woman she’d carried a torch for since she was a teenager looped over and over in her mind.

Used to. Used to carry a torch for, Faith thought bitterly.

Sensing Faith's impending emotional spiral, Cordelia considered giving in. She could continue to allow her friend to live hidden away from her own feelings and possible happiness. Faith was content being an amazing mother. But she deserved more and Cordelia knew that better than anyone. She saw firsthand the unresolved feelings Buffy and Faith had for each other, but either refused to admit it.

Cordelia honestly believed she could finally put an end to their nearly seventeen years of foreplay.

Hence, Operation Clueless Slayers was born.

And even if both slayers refused to act like adults about the whole thing, Faith would at least get some form of closure.

“You know I’m not one to endorse sitting through any celebration revolving around that blonde of a nightmare, but this is about you,” Cordelia said earnestly.

“Bullshit.”

“You need closure, you idiot.”

Faith sunk into her chair and sighed. She was over Buffy, wasn’t she? They hadn’t shared a slayer dream in years and their connection… it was non-existent.

Cordelia slid her hand atop Faith’s lying limp on the table. "I promise I will see you through this. And with Joy, Kennedy, and Giles there, you’ll have all the support you’ll need."

Faith took a deep breath, her heart racing with uncertainty. She would probably regret this, but with Fred’s Law in play, she didn’t have a choice.

"When do we leave?" Faith asked.

"Well, that depends. When can your jet be ready?"

"Oh, right,” Faith grumbled and shook her head. “Whenever, I guess." She hated to be reminded of just how rich Angel had left her.

Her inheritance included two jets, six houses, four cars, and a super yacht.

The monetary portion was a whole other story. She’d barely used any of it outside of buying the shop and a home for her daughter.

"Let's say early tomorrow afternoon," Cordelia answered, typing a message on her cellphone. "We'll fly into Santa Rosa and spend the night, then drive to the venue in time for the welcome breakfast. We'll miss the introduction dinner, but I'm expected to be fashionably late, obviously."

"Whatever." Faith shrugged and picked up her phone. "Guess now I gotta buy a gift."

"That's the spirit," Cordelia said, standing to peck her friend on the cheek before heading for her niece's bedroom.

----

Buffy’s cheeks were sore from the smile permanently etched on her face. It was the third speech of the night and neither she nor Dalton wanted to listen to another.

Weren’t speeches they for the wedding reception only?

“I’ll wrap this up, but just this once,” Lawrence, the best man, joked. “Dalton is the greatest man I know and he’s found his perfect match in the world’s prettiest superhero. To the future bride and groom!”

Everyone raised their glasses for the toast and the music started up again.

Okay, so maybe not the worst speech, Buffy thought wryly.

She squeezed the large hand intertwined with her own and kissed the smooth-shaven skin of the man beside her. “Please tell me that was the last one,” Buffy whispered into his ear.

“I see my mother making her way over from the bar, so probably not,” Dalton whispered back with an apologetic smile.

“Guess you’ll just have to make it up to me later,” Buffy teased.

“Oh, I definitely plan to,” Dalton said, gripping her bare thigh underneath the table before drawing his attention back to the party.

Standing from the ornate table covered in lit candles and fancy cutlery, Buffy made an excuse to leave the room. She needed air.

She would be married soon. The idealistic fourteen-year-old cheerleader in her would be over the moon, but the mid-thirties woman who’d lost way too much couldn’t find the endless enthusiasm everyone else seemed to possess.

“Hey, Buffster. Where ya headed?” Xander asked, cutting his friend off before she could make it out into the courtyard. He was balancing two very full plates and two beers in his hands.

“Taking a breather outside.”

“Want company? I’ll drop off my plate with Dawn since she can’t get enough of these shrimp puffs.”

“No, it’s fine. Just feeling a little… ya know… one glass too many,” she said vaguely.

“Ah, say no more. If ya have to…” he mimed barfing “…there’s a line of bushes that should make good cover.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“What are friends for?”

Buffy chuckled as he walked away. She quickly escaped to the courtyard, trying hard to avoid any more conversation, at least for a little while.

Guests mingled inside due to the cooler than average temperatures, making the private courtyard the perfect place to be alone. With her close friends and wedding party, coupled with Dalton’s friends and family, forty people seemed like too many.

How was she going to survive the other two-hundred people showing up in three days for the actual wedding?

Buffy sat and admired the twinkling stringed lights draped across the small trees. She had dreams of such over the top affairs, but it all felt forced now, like she was playing a role she shouldn’t have been cast for.

She hated the feeling. She hated being the cause of it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Kennedy called out behind her.

Buffy barely startled and her eyes remained on the lit trees. “Worth a little more than that.”

The younger slayer slipped from the shadows, inhaling a cigarette between her lips. The blue Oxford she wore was no longer tucked into her black slacks. She plopped down onto the bench beside Buffy.

“Does Willow know you’re smoking?” Buffy asked.

“Don’t you dare,” Kennedy warned looking over her shoulder for her girlfriend. “She would end my life, that is before she gave me a lecture about how smoking ends your life.”

Buffy smirked. She and Kennedy got along a lot better these days, outside of when Kennedy wasn’t cooperative.

Like when she refused to give up any information about Faith—

“How are the cabins?” Buffy asked.

“Fancy,” Kennedy answered, putting her cigarette out into a planter. “Weather’s good, too.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Well, I’ll leave you to your expensive thoughts,” Kennedy said, standing to head inside.

“Ken, wait.” Buffy hesitated, then stood to meet Kennedy’s questioning gaze.

“Yeah?”

“I… How is she?”

“Willow’s good, Buffy. We’re not going to give up.”

The couple was trying for a baby, but they were having trouble conceiving. The last year of failed attempts had taken its obvious toll on Willow, but she’d seemed to be in better spirits in light of adopting.

“No, I-I mean that’s great. But I wasn’t asking about Will.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s good, Buffy. She’s… well, ya know her.”

Buffy nodded. She didn’t know why she craved hearing about Faith. Perhaps there was some apocalypse finally on the horizon that would require the retired slayer to come back. It’d definitely explain the obsessive thoughts she was having lately.

Yep. She was going with that reason.

“Hey, there you are,” a voice called from the doorway. Dalton strolled over to the two slayers, sliding a hand around Buffy’s dress clad waist. “Do I smell cigarettes? Oh, I’m so telling Willow.”

“Buffy, please tell Mayor McCheese what a slayer’s like when threatened,” Kennedy said with a smirk.

“Ouch,” Dalton mocked, grabbing his chest.

“See you two in a bit. I have to go brush my teeth before my secret’s out.”

The brunette slayer made a hasty escape across the grassed lawn extending up the hill where the luxury cabins were nestled.

“I think she likes me,” Dalton said, kissing Buffy on the temple.

“Of course, she does. And who wouldn’t? You’re just so darn likeable,” Buffy replied slyly. She closed her eyes and leaned back into her fiancé’s arms. She enjoyed the comfort she felt when with him, the ease in which they worked.

“So, about me making up for allowing the twenty speeches at the welcome dinner? Should we get started on that now?” Dalton murmured against her cheek.

“Lead the way.”

----

Another thing that made Dalton perfect was his stamina. Short of the supernatural beings Buffy had slept with, he could actually keep up with her slayer-sized libido.

Well, up to a certain extent. She couldn’t let go fully and risk hurting him.

Dalton gripped Buffy’s narrow hips as she continued her languid pace on top of him. It was nice. Beyond nice. She could feel the early signs of her climax slowly building.

She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Then, she felt it.

A spark raced down her spine.

Buffy hadn’t felt it so long, that before she could discern exactly what it was, she was coming harder than she’d ever come in her life.

She moaned loudly as the spark buried itself below her waist, sending a continuous shiver throughout her body.

And after she came down, she was faintly aware of Dalton reaching his own climax beneath her because all she felt was the tingle.

The tingle.

Then nothing.

Buffy wanted to sob at the coldness seeping into her skin after it disappeared.

What the hell had just happened? Was it a fluke?

No matter the reason, Buffy couldn’t shake the unspeakable sorrow of the sensation leaving her again.

Dalton hummed, his breath evening out. “That was amazing,” he sighed.

“Yeah,” Buffy replied, trying and succeeding to keep her voice light. She rose from his waist and tucked herself into his chest to avoid his gaze.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” Buffy lied. “Long day.”

“You should get some sleep, babe,” Dalton said softly, stroking her hair. “Just a few more days and we get to ride off into the sunset.”

Buffy sighed. “Sounds nice.”

Dalton went to sleep soon after, yet Buffy remained awake with the ghost of a slayer tingle tracing her thoughts.

----

Buffy awoke the next morning alone in the king-sized bed. She groaned as she arched her back and sat up.

It was definitely later than she expected, but she would still catch the end of the communal breakfast.

Buffy showered quickly, then dressed in skinny jeans, a white tank top, and a lavender cardigan. Deciding to let her hair dry naturally, she bounded down the stairs and headed towards the courtyard. She passed a few of Dalton’s family members milling around, smiling a good morning to them in greeting. She arrived at the breakfast buffet outside to find a good number of guests still having their fill. She caught sight of her friends and family excitedly talking to…

Cordelia? Of course, Cordelia had showed up after all. Fred had an arm slung across her shoulder as Buffy made her way over to the group.

“Cordelia,” Buffy said mildly, though she stepped forward to give the glamorous starlet two air kisses.

“Buffy,” Cordelia drawled in return. “You look… well this place is gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said, only smirking at the never changing woman in front of her. “How was your trip here?”

“Great. Private jet is the only way to travel,” Cordelia replied.

“Oh! We have a private jet,” Xander stated proudly, before adding sadly, “But it’s the company’s and only for emergencies.”

“You poor thing,” Cordelia stated plainly before turning her attention back to Buffy. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought guests. I had plans to visit them, but decided I couldn’t miss out on your wedding either.”

“It’s fine,” Buffy said with a roll of her eyes. “The more the merrier.”

“Looks like your guests are about to join us now, Cordelia,” Kennedy said, smirking as she looked towards the cabins atop the far hill.”

“Holy…” Dawn began, eyes fixated to where Kennedy’s gaze had landed.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Xander finished, also staring at the approaching figures.

Willow could only stare. “Is that… Is that…”

“Faith…” Buffy whispered breathlessly. She couldn’t move, let alone look away from the former rogue slayer.

Faith walked the same, her hips swaying effortlessly as she smiled down fondly at the little girl—

Little girl?

Yep, it was a little girl. A beautiful little girl who was breaking away from Faith’s hand to run directly towards the group.

“Aunt Cordy! Aunt Cordy! Mommy’s gonna get me,” Joy squealed, grasping onto Cordelia’s dress.

Everyone stiffened and Xander coughed up the croissant he’d been chewing

“I won’t let her,” Cordelia promised, bending down to hug Joy. Appeased by this, the little girl, seeming to forget about her initial terror, ran back over to Faith who picked her up.

Buffy’s eyes remained glued to Faith’s as her mind raced a mile a minute. Faith was a mommy?

Faith looked a little unsure of herself as she reached the group. She slid her hands around Joy protectively and her nerves eased. Her daughter had that effect on her. Her first glance at Buffy had rendered her brain completely useless because the blonde slayer had remained just as beautiful as she remembered.

“Long time no see, kids,” Faith said in an attempt to break the tension.

Kennedy was the first person to hug Faith, followed by Giles and a squealing Dawn. Xander, Spike, Fred, and Willow did so after. The whole time, the little girl seemed happy to just observe her mother’s one arm hugs with people she didn’t know.

Buffy, still unable to say anything really, could only stare between the little girl and Faith.

“So, I hear congrats are in order, B,” Faith said, her voice as raspy as ever. She stepped forward gingerly and placed a hand on Buffy’s arm.

Buffy felt herself almost gasp. Though the touch was barely there, every inch of her skin felt as if it was on fire. “Thanks,” she croaked.

Faith nodded, not entirely trusting herself to say anything else directly to Buffy, and instead addressed the whole group. “Everyone, I want you to meet my daughter. Her name’s Joy.”

And this time Buffy did gasp, but so did the others.

Having heard her name, Joy beamed over at the group before stopping on Buffy. “You’re the pretty lady from tv.”

“Y-yeah. Yep. That’s uh… Hi,” Buffy stammered and held out her hand to the child. “It’s uh nice to meet you.”

“You’re funny.” Joy laughed and nearly leapt from her mother’s arms to hug Buffy instead. She managed to wrap her small arms around the petite slayer’s neck and brought her into Faith’s personal space.

Buffy felt her resolve melt under such unrestrained affection and lifted her arm to Faith’s waist, hugging the mother and daughter alike.

Faith. Faith was here and damn was Buffy in trouble.