“Heads up!” Faith calls, before her boot connects solidly with the vampire’s ass, sending him stumbling in Buffy’s direction.

Buffy not ready, having just staked one of his cohorts, but she adapts. She drops into a crouch so he hits her head on, falling over her tucked body. Then she pops up, easily staking him through the back.

“Nice,” Faith grunts, as she punches the remaining vamp in the face.

“Thanks!” Buffy says, brushing the dust off her clothes.

Kicking the vampire in the knee, Faith follows up with an uppercut to the jaw. “You wanna get some food after this?” She asks.

The vampire snarls, managing to get a handful of Faith’s shirt. He pulls her toward him, not realizing she’s letting him do it. She headbutts him directly in the nose, and a sickening crunching sound rings through the cemetery.

“Where do you wanna go?” Buffy asks, hopping up on a tombstone and crossing her legs while she waits.

“The diner by my place?” Faith’s in a groove now, not letting the vampire land a single hit as she drags his head down, knees him in the face, and then elbows the back of his neck.

Faith’s motel is in the complete opposite direction of her house, but it is Friday night. Plus, after a rocky start, hanging out with Faith is getting to be actually kind of fun. She’s different than the rest of Buffy’s friends, different than Kendra, but she makes Buffy laugh, and it’s nice being with someone who gets the whole slaying deal. Someone whose back she doesn’t have to watch on patrol. “Okay,” Buffy agrees.

Faith promptly stakes the vamp through the back, not waiting for him to disintegrate fully before she repockets her stake. Coming to the tombstone, she holds out her hand. “Then let’s go,” she says, with a grin.

Buffy takes her hand, hopping off the headstone with ease. They start for the cemetery exit.

“So,” Faith says, “you still wanna go to this Halloween shindig tomorrow?” She doesn’t let go of Buffy’s hand, but threads their fingers companionably together.

The Bronze has been advertising its Mischief Masquerade for weeks, but Buffy still hasn’t gotten around to planning her costume. She groans.

“That’s cool,” Faith says, looking a little disappointed. “We don’t have to go.”

“No,” Buffy says, “I want to go. I just still don’t have a costume.”

“Oh,” Faith says, smiling again now, “well, we can totally fix that. I still need to find something, too. Wanna hit that costume shop on Maple tomorrow?”

Buffy nods.

“If all else fails,” Faith says, “we go as what we know best.”

“Vampires?” Buffy guesses.

“Vampires,” Faith agrees, bearing her not particularly sharp teeth in a menacing fashion.

XXXXX

Buffy eyes the aisles of the costume shop with some trepidation. It seems like every year, a new Halloween shop pops up in this same spot. Last year’s costumes were enchanted to turn everyone into the thing they were dressed as, to disastrous effects. This particular store seems to more heavily favor mass-produced costumes, so she figures it’s unlikely to happen again. Just to be on the safe side though, she’ll avoid dressing up as anything particularly helpless.

Faith’s already made her way down two aisles, quickly reviewing and eliminating options. Knowing Faith for only a few weeks, Buffy can already guess what she’s looking for, something that starts with the word ‘Sexy.’ Then again, she doesn’t really need a costume to add the sex appeal. She sort of does that on her own.

Speaking of which, Faith appears beside her, wearing bright red devil horns on her head and a wicked smile. “Should we go with a theme?” She suggests. “I can find you a little halo.”

“What’s the rest of the outfit look like?” Buffy asks.

Faith displays two equally skimpy outfits, one red and one white. She raises one eyebrow as Buffy struggles to find a polite way to refuse.

“A little trite,” Faith agrees, looking at the two outfits critically. “Besides, Xander might ask one of us to sit on his shoulders.”

Buffy snorts.

Faith disappears back down the aisle, quickly discarding the angel and devil costumes, although she keeps the horns. Following her, Buffy begins looking at the costumes, mentally crossing them off her list one by one. If she’s going to get turned into something this year, it’s not going to be a cat, a nurse, or a nun. Ditto the playboy bunny and the schoolgirl.

A little further down the aisle, Faith’s looking at a costume that catches Buffy’s eye. That could work, she thinks, just as Faith picks it up and begins to look it over in interest.

Faith notices her coming and holds the costume up for her to see. “Found mine,” she declares. Xena: Warrior Princess the package reads.

Buffy hasn’t personally seen Xena, but she knows enough to know that if she got turned into this particular costume, she’d probably survive Halloween. She frowns. “Could we both be Xena?”

“No way,” Faith declares, pulling the package close to her chest. “I found it first.” She looks back at the shelf, plucking another costume free and handing it to Buffy. “Here.”

Buffy looks at the costume and frowns. “You get to be Xena, and I have to be your sidekick?”

Faith looks deeply affronted. “Gabrielle’s a bad ass,” she says.

“Then you be her,” Buffy suggests, “and I’ll be Xena.”

“Sorry, B,” Faith says, pressing the Gabrielle costume into her hands. “You’re the blond.”

Sighing, Buffy looks at her watch. It’s getting late, and they’re supposed to meet the others by 8. This’ll have to do. “Fine,” she says. The outfit’s kind of cute anyway. Not as cute as the Xena outfit, but she’ll make it work.

“Perfect,” Faith says in a cheery voice, slinging an arm around her shoulders and propelling her back up the aisle.

Behind the counter at the front of the store, a girl about their age is straightening up the fake fangs and blood packets lining the countertop. “All set?” She asks.

Faith releases Buffy, stepping forward with her costume. “Yeah,” she says.

“Xena,” the girl says with interest. She gives Faith a quick once over. “This’ll look amazing on you.”

“Thanks,” Faith says, taking what Buffy thinks is an inordinate amount of time to dig her wallet out.

“You going to the thing at the Bronze tonight?” The girl asks, scanning the barcode on Faith’s costume. 

“Yeah,” Faith answers.

“With a date?” The girl asks, biting her lip a little as she smiles.

Buffy can’t believe her eyes. Surely this girl isn’t flirting with Faith right in front of her. Not that they’re together or anything, but she doesn’t know that. For all she knows, Faith could be Buffy’s girlfriend.

“Group of friends,” Faith says casually. “You going?” She asks, leaning over the counter a little bit.

Buffy comes up from behind Faith and drops her costume on the counter harder than is strictly necessary.

The cashier glances over, giving her a polite smile before turning back to Faith and telling her the total. While Faith fishes her money out, the girl says, “Yeah, I might stop by.”

“Well,” Faith says, holding out her cash, “maybe I’ll see you there then. I’m Faith, by the way.”

“Lily,” the girl says, smiling broadly. She rings through Faith’s transaction, then holds out her change. “And I hope so.”

Buffy practically elbows Faith out of the way, sliding her costume up next to the register.

Lily looks down, then back up at Buffy, a polite smile on her face. “That’ll be $22.50.”

XXXXX

Buffy sits on her bed, pulling on brown boots to go with her skirt and the surprisingly skimpy crop top that the character of Gabrielle apparently wears. “How does she do her hair?” She asks, not looking back to where Faith’s getting changed.

“Mostly down, but sometimes half up,” Faith says. “I’ll show you.” Buffy hears a zipping sound, then Faith says, “Okay, what do you think?”

Standing up, Buffy turns around to check out Faith’s costume. It’s skintight black pleather, with intricate gold designs on the chest plate and shoulder pads. Arm guards cover her forearms, with gold and black bands pushed above her elbows. She wears her own black boots, carefully crisscrossed with gold crafting tape she snagged from Buffy’s mother. Her hair is down, straightened, with a small braid in one side. Her usual makeup is toned down, with only moderate eyeliner and a natural rosy pink on her lips.

“Well?” Faith prods, and Buffy realizes she’s been staring at her a beat too long.

“Looks good,” she says. “Authentic.”

Faith puts her hands on her hips, twirling a little so the pleats in the skirt lift and separate. “Hot?” She prompts.

“Hot,” Buffy agrees, unsure if she’s describing Faith’s outfit or her own body temperature. Why is it so warm in here all of the sudden?

“Sit down,” Faith encourages, coming around the bed. “I’ll do your hair.”

As Buffy sits on the stool in front of her vanity, Faith picks up the brush and moves to stand behind her. She runs it through Buffy’s hair gently, her short fingernails scratching the back of Buffy’s neck as she works the few tangles free. Once she’s satisfied, Faith sets the brush down. She fiddles with the bangs Buffy’s been trying to grow out, fluffing them so they no longer blend into the rest of her hair. She draws hair from behind Buffy’s bangs into one section, beginning to braid it to the right side.

In the mirror, Buffy watches her work, the muscles moving smoothly under the bare skin of her arms, the easy expansion of her chest under the light armor she’s wearing. Faith steps in closer, her thigh brushing the side of Buffy’s arm, and she swallows hard, dropping her eyes to her lap.

From the looks of things in the store today, it seems Faith isn’t opposed to the attention of another girl. This puts a lot of Faith’s comments about men being scum in context.

“What do you think?” Faith asks.

Buffy looks up to see Faith still holding the end of the braid she’s done. She looks at her hair, turning her head back and forth. “Looks good,” she says. “There should be a hair tie in the little box there.” She points to the box on the vanity.

Faith reaches with one hand into the box, her leg pressing more firmly into Buffy’s arm, and fishes out a small, clear rubber band. Quickly tying off the end of the braid, she releases it, then steps back to look at her handiwork. She nods in satisfaction. “You look great,” she declares, then grins. “If that asshole Scott Hope is there tonight, he’s gonna kick himself in the ass with both feet.”

“I don’t know about that,” Buffy says, but she smiles.

“Well, I do,” Faith says. She grabs both of Buffy’s hands and hauls her to her feet. Gesturing to their reflection, she says, “We’ll be the hottest chicks in the place. You just need one more thing.”

“What?” Buffy asks, a little suspicious of the smile Faith’s sporting.

“I’ll tell you on the way,” Faith says.

XXXXX

“I just got un-expelled,” Buffy complains, as Faith pries open the classroom window. “I really don’t need a repeat. My mom will ground me for life.”

“No one’s going to catch us,” Faith says, wedging the window open and grabbing the windowsill with both hands. She hauls herself up, her short skirt displaying a dangerous amount of leg as she does so. What is she even wearing under that?

Buffy looks away hastily, not daring to look back until Faith’s fully over the sill and holding her hand down to help Buffy in. She lets Faith pull her up, easily clearing the windowsill. The two of them drop to the tiled floor inside the classroom soundlessly. It’s dark and quiet in the school. Buffy leads the way to the hallway, quickly glancing both ways although it’s obvious that the school is deserted. The two of them make their way to the library, not speaking, sticking to the shadows where any camera footage that might be reviewed later will have a hard time picking them up.

A small light shines through the window in the library door. Buffy goes through first, wondering if Giles forgot to turn something off. Instead, they find Giles standing beside the card catalog. He looks up, nearly dropping the book he’s holding when he sees them.

“Sorry,” Buffy says, smiling innocently.

“Buffy,” he says, “Faith, what are you doing here?” He gives their outfits a once over, raising an eyebrow.

That’s a great question. Buffy looks at Faith for the answer.

“Need to borrow the quarterstaff,” Faith says.

“Did something come up on patrol?” Giles asks.

“Nah,” Faith says, breezing past Giles and into the rare books cage, “just need it for B’s costume.”

Giles frowns. “You’re borrowing my weapons for a costume party?”

“Just for a little while,” Faith says, seeming immune to the disapproval in Giles’s face.

Giles makes a displeased sound in his throat as Faith hands Buffy the quarterstaff.

“Now you look like Gabrielle,” Faith says approvingly. She puts her arm around Buffy’s shoulders, steering her toward the library doors before Giles can express any further thoughts on the matter.

Unfortunately, they don’t quite make it. “Hold on a moment,” Giles says from behind them. “We may have a situation developing that I need your help with.”

Faith sighs loudly, and the two of them turn back to face Giles.

“We were so close,” Faith mutters under her breath.

Meanwhile, Buffy folds her arms across her chest. “Every year you tell me Halloween is the one night a year when evil takes a sabbatical, and every year, something definitely evil happens,” she accuses.

“I hardly think this is my fault,” Giles says defensively. “Demons these days have no respect for tradition.”

“So, what is it?” Faith asks. “Hell hound? Zombie? Vampire cult?”

“Something a little different,” Giles says, gesturing at the table, “and I’m not positive that there’s anything to worry about.”

Leading the way back to the table, Buffy glances down at a copy of today’s newspaper, and several other printed off articles. She picks up the paper, and reads the circled article, “Authorities are reporting that Margaret Corcoran, age 48, escaped from the California Institution for Women yesterday. Ms. Corcoran was convicted in 1967 for the murders of three local high school students.”

“Doesn’t sound demonic,” Faith comments, reading over Buffy’s shoulder. “Even Sunnydale’s finest should be able to catch one middle aged killer.”

“At first glance, it doesn’t,” Giles agrees, “but I had an interesting call from one of my contacts at the council.” He picks up another article and hands it to Buffy. She skims the description of Margaret Corcoran’s crimes, until her eyes hit the end of the second paragraph. “The murders were eerily similar to three murders in 1934, known as the October massacre, in which three young girls were killed by Miss Alma James Miller.”

Giles adds, “Ms. Miller’s whereabouts can’t be traced after 1936.”

“So, it’s the same woman?” Faith asks.

“Not quite,” Giles says. “We’ve traced the pattern back, and these killings occur every 32 years, as far back as 1806. In every case, the killer is a young woman the same age as the deceased, and in every case, there were no warning signs of the violence. These young women come from all walks of life, different races, different time periods. The only thing they have in common is the geographic region.” Giles pushes several more articles and some books out of the way. Underneath it all sits a county map, with several locations tagged.

“All around Sunnydale,” Buffy says, with a sigh. “Of course.”

Giles nods. “We believe it’s one entity that possessed each of these girls. Once it’s done the ritual killing, it goes dormant for another 32 years.” He looks at them grimly. “Then it chooses a new host and new victims.”

“How long does it usually take for her to find the first victim?”

“If we go by past history, the murders usually occur beginning on November first. This may mean it’s looking for a new host today,” Giles says.

“Or it’s already found one,” Buffy says.

“But if not,” Faith adds, “What better place to find one than a massive party full of teenagers?”

“Fair point,” Giles says. “You should go the Bronze and keep your eyes open.”

“We’ll do that,” Faith says.

“Faith,” Giles says in a long-suffering tone.

“What?” Faith asks, “I can dance and keep my eye out for the jailbird while I’m dancing. She’ll stick out like a sore thumb anyway.”

Buffy gives Giles a smile. “We’re on it,” she says. “Don’t worry.”

XXXXX

They’re running late by the time they finally arrive at the Bronze. The place is packed, and the Dingoes are on stage. They’re dressed in costume, with Devon crooning out a particularly energetic cover of “Psycho Killer.” Oz bobs his head agreeably behind his guitar, wearing a basketball jersey over seemingly a full body covering of fake fur. Faith snorts when she sees him.  “Teen Wolf,” she says, gesturing up at Oz with a laugh.

Buffy grins back, scanning the crowd for the rest of their friends. She spots Willow waving at them from a table in the back. “There they are,” Buffy says, leaning closer to Faith’s ear to be heard over the music.

Faith nods, waving back at Willow. She turns to Buffy, touching her waist as she leans in. “I’ll grab us drinks and meet you there?” After Buffy agrees, Faith makes her way through the crowd, seemingly oblivious to the appreciative looks her costume is drawing. Buffy stands in the same spot, watching the swaying pleats of Faith’s skirt another moment until she’s lost in the crowd. Then she shakes herself out of it, and, carefully keeping the quarterstaff tucked close to her, makes her way through the crowd.

“You made it!” Willow says excitedly when she arrives at the table. “We thought maybe you guys got stuck doing slayer stuff.”

“We sort of did,” Buffy says. “We went by the library, and Giles filled us in on some escaped prisoner that’s apparently been murdering people for 200 years or so.”

Willow grimaces. “Do we need to go do research?” She looks reluctantly toward the stage, obviously less than enthused about going.

“Nah,” Buffy assures her. “We’re keeping an eye out tonight, but the real fun’s supposed to start tomorrow.”

“Great!” Willow says. “Well, not great in the sense of murdering, but great that we don’t have to stop the murdering right now.”

“I got you,” Buffy says, smiling. She props the quarterstaff against the wall behind her and checks out Willow’s costume. She’s wearing high waisted jeans and a checked shirt, under a red puffer vest. Buffy ponders this a minute, not getting it.

Willow grins widely. “Are you telling me,” she says, obviously doing an impression, “you built a time machine… out of a DeLorean?”

“Oh,” Buffy says, laughing. “Marty McFly?”

“We did a Michael J. Fox theme.”

“Cute,” Buffy says. She looks at Xander and Cordelia.

Cordelia smiles at her beatifically. She’s wearing a white dress with large angel wings. Beside her, Xander’s got on a particularly obnoxious floral shirt, partially unbuttoned over a white tank top. A ring dangles from around his neck on a long silver chain.

“Oooh!” Buffy exclaims. “Romeo and Juliet! I love it.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia says. “My idea.”

“And I already had this shirt, so I went with it,” Xander adds. He looks her costume over. “Gabrielle,” he says. “I always figured you more for a…” he trails off, looking past her. “Holy leather, Batman!”

Cordelia elbows him none too delicately in the ribs.

Buffy turns to see what he’s looking at. Faith’s making her way over, her hips swaying as she carefully balances a full drink in both hands. The muscles in her thighs flex as they peak out from the pleats of her skirt. Buffy’s mouth is suddenly dry. In an effort to appear normal, she feels behind her for the edge of the table, gripping it while she climbs onto a stool.

“Wet,” Willow says from behind her.

“Huh?” Buffy says, tearing her eyes away from Faith to look at her in surprise.

Gesturing to the table, Willow points out the puddle of condensation Buffy’s dropped her hand into.

“Oh,” Buffy says, “right.” She moves her hand, shaking it off.

“Hey guys,” Faith says, arriving at her side. She holds out one drink to Buffy. “Got your fave,” she says.

“Diet Coke with just a splash of cherry coke?” Buffy asks.

“And enough maraschino cherries to send a normal person into diabetic shock,” Faith says.

“You’re my hero.”

Faith lifts one bicep, curling it suggestively. “I try.”

“So, Xena,” Xander says, managing to contain his eyes to roughly the area around Faith’s face. “Nice.”

“You a Xena fan?” Faith asks, hopping up on the stool beside Buffy’s. She braces her one foot on her own stool, the other on the rung of Buffy’s, her knee bumping Buffy’s thigh.

Buffy looks back up, taking a sip of her drink. It’s ridiculously hot in here tonight, for some reason.

Xander nods. “Me and the Willster are big fans. We never got Buffy to watch it though.”

Buffy shrugs. She notices Cordelia looking at her with a small smile. “What?” She asks, wondering if she has something in her hair.

“Just didn’t expect to see you and Faith in a couple’s costume,” Cordelia says, blinking innocently.

“They’re not really a couple,” Willow points out.

“Sure,” Cordelia says. “I take baths and spoon at night with all my friends.”

Buffy looks at Faith, who makes an innocent face and takes a sip of her drink.

“Seriously?” Buffy says to Faith.

Shrugging, Faith admits, “Yeah, they’re basically married.” When she catches sight of Buffy glowering, she smirks.

Buffy punches her hard in the thigh.

“Ow, B, goddamn it!” Faith says, rubbing the spot she hit.

“I never thought they seemed couple-y,” Willow puts in, trying to make Buffy feel better.

Rolling her eyes, Cordelia says, “You have no gaydar.”

Buffy tunes the ensuing argument out, looking out past their table to the darkened club. The Bronze has gone all out. Cobwebs cover the ceiling, with dim purple lighting peaking out from behind them. Black and gold balloons dangle strategically over the bar, and a giant spider is suspended above the stage. There’s a fog machine stashed somewhere, if the state of the dance floor is any indication.

Faith slides off her stool, holding out a hand to Buffy. “Wanna dance?”

“Sure,” Buffy says, glancing back at the quarterstaff. Giles will never forgive her if it’s kidnapped by some reveler looking to jazz up their costume. “Will you guys be here?”

Willow waves her off. “I’m holding down the fort until the Dingoes go on break.”

Satisfied, Buffy lets Faith lead her into the crowd. The Dingoes are back to some of their own songs now, and the two of them join the costumed throngs of partygoers bobbing and weaving in front of the stage. Letting go of Buffy’s hand, Faith turns to face her, beginning to move with the crowd. Buffy falls into step with her, easily relaxing into the rhythm. Dancing with Faith is easy to do, just like slaying. Their bodies just seem to understand each other’s rhythms. When she reaches for Faith’s hand, Faith anticipates it, taking hers and raising their hands over her head as she keeps moving. Her opposite hand brushes Buffy’s hip. Faith tosses her head back as the music speeds up, and God, Buffy is beginning to think she spends too much time with vampires because does Faith’s neck always look that biteable?

As one song bleeds into the next, Buffy’s still dancing, but she’s finding that she’s watching Faith as much as she is dancing. And she’s not the only one. Several guys and at least two girls are openly watching her. The one guy who tries to approach her is summarily rebuffed, with Faith peeling his fingers off her hip and stepping in closer to Buffy without so much as a look in his direction. Buffy doesn’t stop to examine the pleased feeling in her stomach when Faith shuts this down, just pulls Faith’s hand so they’re closer together than before.

By the time the frenetic pace finally dies down and the drummer starts a slow rumbling intro to the next song, Buffy figures they’ll take a break. But Faith catches her wrist and pulls her back. The dance floor is emptying slowly, the remaining occupants primarily couples that are drifting closer together. Buffy looks at Faith quizzically, and Faith shrugs, cocking her head in the direction of the floor rather than their table.

Buffy hesitates just a second, then steps back to Faith. Faith takes Buffy’s hand and puts it at the back of her neck. Her fingers slide down the back of Buffy’s arm before meeting her side. She settles both hands around Buffy’s waist, her fingers touching the bare skin above the skirt of Buffy’s costume.

Her free hand flutters uncertainly for a moment, before settling on Faith’s upper arm. Faith pulls her close, Buffy’s stomach pressing into the ridged detailing on the front of Faith’s costume. As Devon starts to sing, his voice a little huskier than normal, Faith’s knee brushes the inside of Buffy’s.

Buffy’s hand tightens reflexively against the nape of Faith’s neck. Faith doesn’t quite smile, but the dimple flashes in her cheek. She leans in, her mouth close to Buffy’s ear, and says, “I love this song.”

She’s pretty sure she’s never heard this song in her life, but Buffy finds it hard to disagree with her assessment right now. Faith’s hips roll toward hers, one of her hands meandering further up Buffy’s side until it brushes the edge of her top. 

With less people on the floor, the fog curls more evenly around the ground, covering their legs with cool mist. Faith’s leg slips more fully between hers, her thigh brushing the bottom of Buffy’s short skirt.

Is she doing that on purpose? The delicate arch in Faith’s right eyebrow suggests yes. Buffy feels a flush spreading up her neck. Without her noticing it, they’ve slowly made their way to the corner of the dance floor. The lighting’s especially low here, the fog rolling heavily across the floor.

Faith’s grip on her waist is loose as they dance together, leaving room for Buffy to move within her hold. In spite of the clammy chill of the fog on her bare legs, Buffy’s skin feels flushed and warm. Faith looks like she feels the same, her cheeks a little flushed, lips just barely parted.

Buffy looks back up from Faith’s mouth to find Faith’s eyes fixed on hers. Faith’s palm slides up her back, pulling Buffy closer, and Buffy finds her chin tilting up, unconsciously angling her mouth closer to Faith’s.

It’s then that the song begins to wind down. Buffy blinks, catching herself leaning a little too close to Faith. She straightens her shoulders, moving a few inches out of Faith’s personal space. The mischievous look on Faith’s face falls away, and she takes a step back too. She looks… disappointed?

“I’m gonna get some water,” Faith says, releasing Buffy.

“Oh,” Buffy says, “sure.”

Faith gives her a half smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, then walks off in the direction of the bar, leaving Buffy standing on the edge of the floor alone.

XXXXX

“Hey,” Willow says cheerfully when Buffy returns to the table. “There you are! I lost track of you with all the fog.”

“Here I am,” Buffy agrees, sliding onto the stool beside her.

“Where’s the wife?” Cordelia asks, with a smirk firmly in place.

Buffy gestures toward the bar. “Grabbing some water.”

Looking over her shoulder toward the bar, Xander suddenly raises his eyebrows. He nudges Cordelia, and she leans to the side to see past Buffy. “Ooh,” she says, “interesting.”

Buffy frowns, swiveling on her stool. Standing by the bar, Faith smiles as she sips from a red cup. A blond woman is talking to her animatedly, clad in a costume not unlike Faith’s.

“She’s Callisto,” Xander informs Buffy.

“Huh?” Buffy asks, looking back at her friends.

“Another Xena character,” Willow says.

“Technically the villain,” Cordelia adds, still watching Faith and her new friend with interest.

“What do you mean, ‘technically?’” Buffy asks.

Cordelia shrugs. “Some people like them together.”

“Her and Xena?”

“Yeah,” Xander says. “They have chemistry.”

“Plus, Callisto’s super hot,” Cordelia adds.

Buffy narrows her eyes slightly, turning on her stool again. “But I’m—I mean, Gabrielle’s hotter, right?”

“Eh,” Cordelia starts, while Willow says, “Yeah, definitely,” in a supportive tone.

The Callisto girl tosses her hair, laughing at something Faith said. Buffy realizes she looks familiar… really familiar, in fact. “I know that girl,” she says. “She works in the costume shop. She sold us our costumes.”

Willow looks at the girl, then back to Buffy. “That’s funny that she was going as Callisto and you guys bought Xena and Gabrielle.”

“Or she dressed as Callisto because she knew Faith was going to be Xena,” Buffy says sourly. “She was totally flirting with Faith when we were checking out.”

Giving Buffy a curious look, Willow says, “Well, that would be cute, right? I mean, Faith doesn’t look like she minds.”

“It’s kind of creepy though, don’t you think?” Buffy asks.

“I think it’s sweet,” Willow says, smiling.

“I think you sound jealous,” Cordelia points out from across the table.

“What?” Buffy asks, surprised. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”

Cordelia gives her a pointed look. “You tell us.”

Buffy flushes indignantly. “There’s nothing to tell.” She turns determinedly back around, facing the table, her back to Faith and Lily. Cordelia’s still giving her a knowing look, but at least Xander takes pity on her.

“So what big brewing evil’s gonna murder us tomorrow?” He asks.

Buffy fills them in on the details Giles told her and Faith, half paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth. The rest of her mind is elsewhere, mainly stewing about the fact that Faith hasn’t come back to the table yet. They’re supposed to be hanging out together. They planned this whole thing with the gang, and now Faith’s ditching them for this Callisto she just met. She only got this stupid costume because Faith wanted them to match.

She resists the urge to turn and glance back over her shoulder, even as two more songs go by and Faith isn’t back. Oz joins them at the table after that, dropping a kiss on Willow’s cheek as he sits down beside her.

“Gabrielle,” he greets her. “Nice.”

Does everyone else in the world watch Xena? “I like your costume, too,” Buffy says, mustering up a smile. No point in ruining everyone’s night just because she’s in a bad mood.

“Where’s Faith?” Oz asks, picking up the water Willow nudges over in front of him.

Leaning closer to Oz, Cordelia points across the bar. “She met Callisto,” she says.

Oz raises one eyebrow noncommittally.

Buffy can’t take it anymore. She twists around, pretending to be re-lacing her boot as she looks in the direction of the bar.

DJ’d music pipes from the speakers now that the Dingoes are on break, filling the room with songs that someone deemed creepy enough to put on the Halloween set list. Something vaguely familiar starts up, and Buffy sees Lily’s eyes light up. She gestures to the dance floor. Faith seems to agree, and the two make their way through the milling people by the bar, out onto the fog-drenched floor.

Lily raises her arms above her head, starting to sway her hips to the plucking bass of the song. Stepping in closer, Faith mirrors her, one hand on Lily’s hip.

Buffy turns back to the table, her lips unconsciously pressing together into a tight line. The rest of the table generously pretends not to notice, even Cordelia.

Before Buffy can get very far into her fuming, she’s bumped from behind. She turns to snap at whoever it is, but comes face to face with Giles, wearing a long cape. White makeup covers his face other than thick dark eyeliner.

“Buffy,” he says, his voice coming out a bit garbled.

She frowns, and Giles flashes the plastic fangs in his mouth, before he reaches up and removes them, tucking them into a pocket in his cloak. He looks around the table, taking in each of their disbelieving faces. “Costumes were mandatory to enter,” he says sheepishly.

“And you just had that stuff lying around?” Xander asks.

“Nevermind,” Giles huffs. “I’ve got a lead on the entity.” He looks at Buffy expectantly. “You’ve filled everyone in?” She nods, and he frowns again. “Where’s Faith?”

“Keeping an eye out,” Buffy says sourly, pointing across the room, to where Lily now has her back pressed to Faith’s front, Faith’s arm wrapped around her stomach.

Giles makes a displeased face.

“Any idea what the entity actually is?” Buffy asks, to get this party crashing back on track.

Giles nods again, reaching in his cloak and pulling out a slim book. It’s old, leather bound, and looks like it might crumble in her fingers. Buffy accepts it, carefully opening it to the marked page. “Charity Stanton Bartholomew,” she reads, looking at the sketch of a woman with severe features and a bonnet over her hair.

“She was the first to complete one of these ritualistic killings, that I’ve found,” Giles says. “It’s possible that she was also possessed, but she was believed to be a witch by the contemporary townsfolk.”

“Wasn’t everybody back then?” Willow asks.

Smirking, Giles nods his head. “Fair point,” he says, “but Charity was alleged to have the power of mind manipulation. That would explain why so many of the reports I’ve found say that there were no defensive wounds on the victims.”

“So she puts the whammy on someone,” Xander says, “steals her body, then she does the same thing to the girls she kills.”

“Exactly,” Giles says. He looks back at Buffy. “Have you noticed anything unusual here tonight?”

Only Faith making new friends, but that doesn’t seem to be what Giles is after. “Nada,” she says.

“We’ve got to find her next host before it’s too late.”

“What do we do if we do find her?” Cordelia asks. “How do we break the mind control or whatever it is?”

Willow perks up. “Oh!” She pipes in. “I know this one! Veritas vincit.”

As the rest of them frown, Oz translates. “The truth will overcome.” That earns a beaming grin from Willow.

Giles thinks about that for a moment. “Yes, I believe you’re right.”

“I don’t get it,” Cordelia says in her usual blunt manner. “How does that help?”

“The only way to break mind manipulation is to reveal the truth to the victim,” Giles says.

“That sounds easy,” Xander says. “What’s the catch?”

Giles smiles slightly. “I suspect the catch is that the truth has to be absolutely true.”

“I don’t get it,” Cordelia says again, sounding exasperated.

“It means you can’t just tell the person under the thrall any true fact,” Willow says. “It has to be something so fundamentally true, that when you show them the evidence, it’s enough to break the spell.”

“But how does that help us?” Buffy asks.

“Well,” Giles says, “maybe there’s something—”

“Cool costume, man!” An obviously drunk man dressed as a vampire crows, clapping Giles clumsily on the shoulder.

“Ah,” Giles says, “thank you.”

The man bears his fangs, makes a peace sign, and fades back into the crowd.

“I think I preferred last Halloween,” Giles says dryly.

“Ha, ha,” Buffy says.

Cordelia slips off her stool, coming around the table and taking Buffy’s arm. “Sorry, Giles, we’ll be right back to hear the rest of this super riveting possession stuff.”

“Where are we going?” Buffy asks.

“Bathroom,” Cordelia says.

Buffy feels as confused as Willow looks by this sudden development, but she gets to her feet, allowing Cordelia to tow her in the general direction of the bathroom. Rather than going in, Cordelia keeps going right past the bathroom door, stopping by the fire exit. She adjusts her wings, looking at Buffy expectantly.

“What?” Buffy asks, having no idea what they’re doing back here.

Cordelia crosses her arms. “What are you going to do about Faith?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Cordelia says impatiently, “are you gonna let Callisto girl sweep in and steal your girl?”

“Huh?” Buffy asks, her eyes widening. “She’s not my—I mean, we aren’t—”

“You are,” Cordelia stresses. “Or you would be, if you’d grow up and make a move already.”

Buffy’s mouth opens to say something in defense of herself. She doesn’t like Faith. Faith doesn’t like her. Sure, they hang out a lot. They slay together, so that’s only natural. And yes, Faith wants to go grab food most of the time after patrol, but slaying makes you hungry. And yeah, they linger over the food sometimes, because Faith likes to do a play by play of their more interesting kills. And sometimes after they eat they sit on the front porch at Buffy’s house with their shoulders pressed together, Faith’s knee knocking into hers occasionally because she’s a fidgeter, and they talk about stupid stuff, movies and music, and whatever else comes to mind. But Faith’s new in town. She needs a friend, and who better than the only other slayer in the world?

And okay, she’s ticked about Lily showing up tonight and Faith ditching her. This was supposed to be their night. They even got the matching costumes. The costumes—okay, there’s not really an explanation for that. But Buffy’s never even seen Xena. And Faith probably just thought it would be funny to watch her turn red when the others filled her in on the subtext of the Xena and Gabrielle thing. It doesn’t mean anything.  Just like Faith holding her hand last night while they walked to the diner, or them dancing together, or that last moment on the dance floor, Faith’s tongue darting out nervously to lick her lips as Buffy leaned in closer.

Oh.

“Yes,” Cordelia says encouragingly, watching Buffy’s thought process play out obviously on her face.

“We…” Buffy starts, not quite finding words.

“Yes,” Cordelia says again, as if leading a very stupid horse to water. “So what are you gonna do about it?” She asks. “Because if you don’t do something now, Callisto will.”

Buffy nods a little uncertainly, her resolve slowly coming together. “Right.”

“Good,” Cordelia says, nodding her head more firmly than Buffy did. “Now you go do that, and you and Faith can take care of the murder witch or whatever, so the rest of us can enjoy Halloween in peace.” She smoothes out her skirt. “This dress was not cheap.”

“That’s what I love about you, Cordy,” Buffy says. “You’re always thinking of others.”

Flashing Buffy a bright smile, Cordelia says, “It’s a gift.” Then her smile falters as she sees Faith and Lily come through the doorway. “I got this,” Cordelia says, pilfering an abandoned drink from the table in the corner. Before Buffy can say anything, she heads directly for Faith and Lily, pretending to stumble at the last moment. The drink hits Lily directly in the chest, making her gasp in shock.

“Oh my God,” Cordelia says, putting on a fake apologetic voice. “I’m so sorry. It’s these damned shoes!” She grabs Lily’s wrist. “Let me help you get cleaned up.”

“Oh,” Lily says, sounding surprised, “that’s okay, I can—”

“No, I insist,” Cordelia says, giving her a toothy smile. She pulls Lily toward the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind them.

“That was weird, right?” Faith asks, spotting Buffy in the shadows.

Buffy plasters a fake smile on her face. “There’s no explaining Cordelia sometimes.”

“Right,” Faith says.

“Giles is here,” Buffy says, moving out of the shadows and a bit closer to her. “He figured out who is behind the murders.”

“Cool,” Faith says with disinterest. She fidgets, drumming her fingers against her thigh.

Frowning, Buffy says, “So we might need to head out on patrol soon.”

That gets a reaction. Faith makes an unhappy face. “You do the homework, and I’ll copy yours?” She suggests. “We were gonna head out.”

“You and Lily?” Buffy asks, feeling kind of like she’s been punched in the stomach.

“Yeah,” Faith says, not really noticing the change in her tone. A little smile takes up residence on her face. “She’s great, isn’t she?”

“Uh,” Buffy says, surprised, “I don’t really know her. She seems nice, I guess.”

Faith nods like Buffy’s given a glowing endorsement. “Super nice,” she says enthusiastically. “And hot.”

“Right,” Buffy says sourly. “Well, it’s kind of a two person job tonight. Giles thinks we’re dealing with a witch, and she has some freaky mind control thing. I could use the backup.”

“B, come on, you guys can handle this, can’t you?” Faith asks, sounding agitated. Her fingers tap against her leg again.

“You know, you were hanging out with me tonight,” Buffy says, the words out of her mouth before she can hold them back. “Or at least you were before Lily showed up, wearing that costume, which is creepy by the way.”

“Creepy?” Faith asks. Her eyebrows furrow in concentration before clearing.

“Yeah,” Buffy says, like it’s obvious. “She found out what costumes we were wearing and came in a matching one. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Faith shrugs.

“Faith,” Buffy says, starting to get a hinky feeling, “what do you know about this girl?”

“She’s great,” Faith says immediately. “Really great. And we have so much in common.”

“Like what?” Buffy asks.

Faith looks confused for a moment. “Lots of stuff,” she says. “What’s taking so long in there?” The tapping against her leg intensifies.

Buffy looks at her jittery hand, the look on her face like she’s forgotten something important that she can’t quite put her finger on. Is this what people look like when they’ve been mind melded or whatever Giles called it? She goes immediately for the bathroom door, nearly barreling through in her haste. “Cordelia!”

Cordelia looks up from the sink where she’s helping Lily blot the spilled drink off her costume. “What?” She asks.

“Oh,” Buffy says. No sign of imminent murder. “Uh, Giles is getting ready to head home.”

“Okay, and?” Cordelia asks.

“I thought you might want to say bye, and tell him you found that umm, job posting he was looking for? It’s on the wall right outside the bathroom. It was under our noses the whole time.”

Cordelia looks at Buffy like she’s completely lost her mind.

“You ready to go?” Faith asks Lily, crowding into the tiny bathroom behind Buffy.

Lily nods, smiling. She looks at Cordelia. “Thanks for your help.”

“Cordy,” Buffy says, her tone a little harder. “I think Giles really needs that information now.”

“I’m going,” Cordelia says, tossing the paper towels into the wastebasket. “Although I don’t know what job you’re talking about. He already has two jobs. What does he need another for?”

“Just tell him,” Buffy says, staring at Cordelia. “And tell him I’ll be back in a minute. I just want to say bye to Faith.”

Cordelia disappears through the door, rolling her eyes.

“B,” Faith says, wrapping her arm around Lily’s waist, “we really gotta motor.”

Buffy forces her face into a smile as the three of them leave the bathroom. “I just need to borrow her for one minute,” she says to Lily.

“Sure,” Lily says, looking a little impatient herself.

Buffy seizes Faith’s wrist and all but drags her back through the doorway so they’re standing in one of the little alcoves in the main room.

Faith looks down at her wrist under Buffy’s hand. She blinks hard, then a carefree smile is back on her face. “Come on,” she says, “still trying to get me to patrol? You don’t need me anyway. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Don’t go,” Buffy says.

“Why not?” Faith asks.

Buffy gets right to the point. “Because I’m like 99% sure that Lily is now the host, and the one calling the shots is a two hundred year old witch.” There, that’s the truth isn’t it? That should break the spell.

Faith stares at her a beat. Then she laughs. “Good one, B.” She glances at the doorway to the restrooms again, rubbing anxiously at the outside of her leg. “I gotta go. For real.”

This time she doesn’t wait for a response, but starts toward the door.

Buffy panics, grabbing her from behind and pulling her back. Evidence of a fundamental truth, she thinks.

“Buffy, what—” Faith begins, only to be spun around, Buffy’s strong hands against her shoulders.

Buffy pins her against the wall, a crumpling sound coming from the various posters and flyers taped there. She steps into Faith’s space, not letting herself have any second thoughts, and kisses her.

Faith stiffens in surprise, but only for a moment. Then her arms are around Buffy. One hand skates up Buffy’s bare back, the other into her hair. The warm faux leather of Faith’s costume presses into her bare stomach as she pulls Buffy fully against her.

It takes Buffy a moment to adjust to kissing someone her own height, with all the same parts. Where does she put her hands? But when her hands drift to Faith’s neck, under her long hair, and Faith squeezes her harder, it starts to feel right. Faith kisses softer than she would have expected, her mouth slow and warm, waiting until Buffy parts her lips to follow suit.

Buffy rewards that patience. Faith exhales in a rush when Buffy sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. She tightens her hand in Buffy’s hair, her other hand sliding down Buffy’s back to her butt.

Buffy smiles around the kiss, releasing Faith’s lip and running her tongue over it lightly. Faith makes a little sound in the back of her throat, and moves her hand down further, the tips of her fingers sweeping the bottom of Buffy’s short skirt. Her fingernails scrape lightly against the skin of Buffy’s thigh.

Buffy’s leg curls up toward Faith’s hip on its own, letting Faith palm the back of her thigh. One hand leaves Faith’s hair, slipping between her back and the wall. Faith smells amazing, and Buffy never wants to stop doing this, but there is the little matter of the mind control thing to be dealt with. “I like you,” she manages to say, still mostly against Faith’s mouth, in case the kissing wasn’t enough truth to overcome the witchcraft. “And I can’t let you leave with Lily. She’s definitely the new host, but more importantly, you should be with me. Doing this.”

Faith snorts softly, her thumb stroking the back of Buffy’s neck. “No argument from me,” she says, not letting go of her. “I do have some questions though. Like who’s Lily, and how did we get here?”

“Huh?” Buffy asks.

“I’m not complaining,” Faith assures her, kissing her lightly, “but last thing I remember is going to get something at the bar. Then we were here.” She looks mildly confused. “Lily? The girl from the costume shop?”

“Uh,” Buffy says, “yeah. She can do some mind control thing. You were about to leave with her. Speaking of which…” Buffy reluctantly puts her foot back on the ground and steps back from Faith. She peers down the hallway in front of the bathroom. It’s empty. No sign of Lily. “Pretty sure she escaped while I was…”

“Saving me from her evil clutches,” Faith puts in, the dimple flashing in her cheek as she tries not to grin.

“Yes,” Buffy agrees. 

“We better go after her then,” Faith says, but she takes Buffy’s wrist and tugs her back toward her.

“We should,” Buffy agrees, as Faith’s hands slip around her waist. Faith noses her way past Buffy’s jaw to her neck, kissing the skin below her ear. “In a minute,” Buffy adds, a little breathless, her heart beating too fast.

Faith makes a noncommittal noise against her throat.

The loud clearing of a throat draws Buffy back to present, and she looks over with wide eyes to find Giles looking at her in mortification. Behind him, Xander stares in open mouthed shock, nearly dropping the staff he’s holding, and Willow’s the color of a tomato. Cordelia smirks in a particularly self-satisfied way.

“We thought you found the host,” Giles says, his eyes focused somewhere past her left shoulder.

“And I thought Faith was into Callisto,” Xander adds, regaining the power of speech.

“Umm,” Buffy says, her face burning. “Callisto was the host. She had Faith in her thrall or whatever.”

“And you were… freeing her from the thrall,” Giles concludes.

“Veritas vincit,” Willow says.

Buffy nods, looking nervously around her friends.

Xander fishes his wallet out, pulling a few bills free and holding them out to Cordelia.

“Thank you,” Cordelia says. “Willow, pay up.”

Sighing, Willow opens her bag and roots around for a moment, digging around for cash.

Buffy folds her arms. “Explain,” she says, to all of them.

“It was Cordy’s idea,” Xander says, ducking half way behind Giles.

“All Cordy’s idea,” Willow agrees, with an apologetic face.

“So you bet what, that Faith and I would get together?”

“No,” Cordelia says casually, “it was about how long it would take you to admit you’re into her.”

“Price is Right rules,” Xander adds. “Whoever’s closest to the date without going over wins. Cordy had November 2nd.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” Buffy says. She looks at Giles.

“I had no knowledge of this,” he says with dignity, “but if you’re all done taking bets on Buffy and Faith’s err, love life,” he flushes as he says this, “I’d like to point out we seem to have lost the host.”

“We’re on it,” Faith says, reaching for Buffy’s hand. Buffy’s still frowning at all of them, but she lets Faith thread their fingers together.

Faith pulls her toward the back exit of the Bronze, waiting until they’re outside before she speaks. “You mad about the bet thing?” She asks.

“Yes,” Buffy says severely, then relents. “No.”

“Good,” Faith says, squeezing her fingers. “It’s kind of funny—everybody except you saw this coming.”

Buffy rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“What did I do, when I was under the mind manipulation?” Faith asks, as they start up the alley toward the street. 

Buffy says, “You were talking to her for a while, then dancing, then you told me how hot and nice she was, and that you were blowing off patrol.” She sneaks a look at Faith. “I didn’t love it.”

“Jealous, were we?” Faith asks, her eyes sparkling.

Buffy shrugs.

“Admirable restraint,” Faith teases. “I’ve been thinking about slashing Scott Hope’s tires since I got here.”

“No you haven’t,” Buffy says, shoving her slightly.

Faith rights her course and grins. “Have so.”

“You could have just made the first move, you know,” Buffy points out. It’s gotten colder outside, and she shifts closer to Faith to stave off some of the chill.

“I did,” Faith says mildly. “I made lots of ‘em.”

“Did a witch do a spell on me, too?” Buffy asks. “Because I don’t remember you saying, ‘Hey, Buffy, I like you. Wanna go out sometime?’”

Faith looks at her. “I was working the subtle angle.”

“Uh huh,” Buffy says.

Faith stops walking, forcing Buffy to stop too. She steps in closer, her eyes shining in the dark as her hand finds Buffy’s waist. “Hey, Buffy,” she says, in a low voice. “I like you. A lot.”

She’s being sarcastic, but something about her voice makes butterflies take off in Buffy’s stomach anyway. “Funny,” Buffy says.

“Dead serious,” Faith says, her thumb stroking the skin above the waist of Buffy’s skirt. “I was waiting for you to notice.”

“I guess I was kind of oblivious,” Buffy admits, her hands sliding up Faith’s arms.

“Little bit,” Faith agrees. She kisses Buffy, a smile still on her lips. “Scale of one to ten, how pissed would Giles be if we just skipped out on looking for the host chick and went back to my place to make out?”

“Probably like an eight,” Buffy says, trying to pretend like she’s not tempted by that offer.

“Ugh,” Faith says, “fine.” She resumes walking, pulling Buffy along after her. “But once we find her and lock her in the book cage or whatever…”

“Back to your place?” Buffy asks, her heart racing a little bit at the thought.

“Or yours,” Faith says, “I’m not picky.”

Buffy nods enthusiastically. As they round the corner toward Main Street, church bells begin to ring out the midnight hour. Another Halloween is over, and as usual, her plan to take a night off has been ruined by unforeseen slayage. But, she thinks, looking at Faith strolling along next to her, something good came out of it. Something very good.

“I hope we find her soon,” Faith says, in a faux innocent tone. “I can’t wait to get this costume off.”

Buffy almost trips over her own foot, managing to catch herself as Faith snickers. She looks over to find Faith raising one eyebrow, the tiniest hint of teeth in her smile.

Buffy’s never felt more motivated to catch something evil.