Buffy sits cross-legged on her bed, focused on Willow. She hates seeing her best friend like this, so sad and confused. If she could get her hands on Oz, she’d… well, she’d give him a stern talking to, what with him being human most nights of the month, but she’d definitely inflict some damage with her words. Unfortunately, Oz is in the wind and unavailable for talking, stern or otherwise, which is the basic gist of the problem at hand.

Willow picks at the pillow in her lap, the corners of her mouth turned down. “I mean, I'm going through something. I just don't see why Giles was getting down on me.”

“Giles just worries,” Buffy says, giving her an encouraging look. “Spells can be dangerous. It doesn't mean he thinks you're a bad witch.”

“I am a bad witch.”

“No, you're a good witch.”

Willow flings the pillow aside. “I'm not kidding anyone. If I had any real power, I could have made Oz stay with me.”

“Will,” Buffy points out gently, “you wouldn't have wanted him to have stayed like that.” She glances at the clock on her nightstand. “I gotta meet Faith for patrol,” she says, making an apologetic face.

“Now?” Willow sounds upset.

“Duty calls,” Buffy says, getting to her feet and starting to gather her stuff.

“Why can’t Faith answer the call of duty herself?” Willow asks sourly.

“You know Giles wants us patrolling together,” Buffy points out patiently. “Until we know what’s up with those commandos, he doesn’t want us taking any chances.”

“But I figured since I'm kinda grievey, we could, you know, have a girl's night,” Willow says plaintively.  

Buffy slips her arms into her jacket and then comes over to Willow’s bed. She leans down, grabbing her hands. “I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise. And then we’ll do girls night. Steel Magnolias and all.”

XXXXX

Buffy stomps through Shady Hill cemetery, her mood plummeting with every minute Faith’s late. At this rate, she could have watched half of Steel Magnolias with Willow. She even came all the way across town to meet here just because it’s closer to Faith’s place. The least she could do is be on time. Buffy checks her watch again, rolling her eyes. Forget it! One last sweep and she’s headed back to the dorms.

She’s gotta talk to Giles about this paired up patrol business. They’re both fully capable of evading the commando guys, whoever they are. Plus they drive each other crazy. And honestly, she’s still harboring a bit of a grudge over Faith taking off for the whole summer after graduation, leaving Buffy to pick up the slaying slack. She just breezed back into town after months away, sporting a wicked black eye, a new tattoo, and her trademark razor sharp grin. No explanation, no apology. Not that Buffy asked where she was, per se. She was too ticked to let Faith know she even cared where she’d been. It was inconsiderate, that’s what it was. No phone call, no goodbye. Buffy had to take on two Jarvlen Flesh Eaters by herself, and she’d lost a solid chunk of the skin of her left arm to one of them before she managed to behead him. It grew back, sure, but the process was itchy. So basically, grievances are firmly in place. And Faith’s done nothing to make amends. It would be better for everybody if they just did their own separate patrols.

She’s almost to the exit when she sees the girl in question sauntering toward her. Far from looking worse for the wear after working all day, Faith looks fresh as a daisy. She wears her usual uniform of low-slung jeans and a tight tee, a slice of her new tattoo visible where it snakes from under her pants along her side. Buffy hasn’t asked what it is, and she won’t, if only to avoid Faith making a joke about Buffy wanting to see her naked. “Hey, girlfriend,” Faith says, arriving in front of Buffy with a grin. “Headed home already?”

Buffy’s pulse quickens momentarily at the wide smile. Faith looks good. Really good. She shakes her head, pulling her thoughts back to her very justifiable annoyance. “You’re 40 minutes late,” she points out.

Shrugging, Faith falls into step beside her. “I got stuck at work,” she says breezily. “What’s the big?”

“You got stuck at work?” Buffy repeats. “Or you stayed late talking to what’s her name? The blond?”

“Her name’s Nikki,” Faith says, “and I didn’t know you cared so much who I talked to.” She raises her eyebrows at Buffy, looking entirely too amused for her liking.

“I don’t!” Buffy protests immediately. Sure, seeing the way Faith’s coworker makes eyes at her makes Buffy’s blood boil, but that’s only because every time Faith gets involved with someone new it cuts into the time she spends with Buffy. On patrol. Fighting evil. “Only that it makes you late for patrol!”

“God,” Faith says, drawing the word out in irritation, “you really need to loosen up, B. Sorry I’m not on your timetable. I’m here now. You wanna kill stuff or not?”

“Mostly just you,” Buffy mutters.

“Let’s go then,” Faith challenges, stopping in her tracks. “I’m sick of your attitude. You wanna throw down? We’ll throw down.”

“My attitude?” Buffy repeats incredulously, coming to a stop and glaring daggers at Faith. “You really wanna go there?”

“Yeah,” Faith says, sounding ticked off herself, “I do. Ever since I got back, you’ve had a bug up your butt about something, and I’m sick of you taking it out on me.”

XXXXX

“I mean, I'm going through something,” Willow says passionately, pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “You'd think every once in a while Buffy would make her best friends a priority.”

Seated on the couch, Xander tracks her movement with his eyes, offering her a sympathetic look. “You know she has to patrol,” he says. “Besides, have you seen Buff and Faith lately? At this rate, we’re not gonna make it to Christmas without them killing each other. Can you say ‘issues?’” He asks with an exaggerated wince. “They need to work it out.”

“So Faith’s more important than me,” Willow says waspishly. “What else is new?”

XXXXX

“I’m done!” Buffy says, throwing her hands up. “I’ll talk to Giles, tell him we don’t need to go out together.”

“Great!” Faith says with fake enthusiasm. “What will I do without you around to ride my ass every night?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else to ride you,” Buffy points out, mentally congratulating herself for coming up with this double entendre so easily.

Faith looks surprised by that, but she quickly recovers. “Jealous much?”

“Jealous?” Buffy scoffs, her eyes almost falling out of her head with how hard she rolls them.

XXXXX

“Faith’s not more important than you,” Xander tries to be the voice of reason. “Right now they’ve just got a lot of slayer drama to work out.”

“Well fine,” Willow says, sitting down beside him with a huff. “Why doesn't she just go marry Faith then?”

XXXXX

A sudden strange feeling passes through Buffy’s chest. By the look on her face, Faith feels it too. The annoyance Buffy’s been nursing fades away, and she’s left with just hurt feelings. “Can you blame me?” She asks. “I’ve seen the way Nikki looks at you. Like you’re a vamp, and she’s the slayer.”

“Hey,” Faith says, softer now, crossing the few feet between them, “come on, don’t give me that face.” She reaches for Buffy’s waist, pulling her into a half hug. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

The corner of her mouth quirks toward a smile, but Buffy looks at the ground. “Do I?” She asks, uncertainly. “You were gone all summer. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“That’s what’s been bothering you?” Faith asks, putting the pieces together. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Still looking down, Buffy shrugs.

“Hey,” Faith says gently, prodding at her chin until Buffy lifts her face, “I’m sorry, okay? I went back to Boston. I wasn’t planning to be gone that long, but I had to take care of a few things.” She squeezes Buffy’s waist slightly while she tries to mollify her. “I thought about you the whole time.”

“Really?” Buffy asks, finally starting to feel a little better.

“Yeah, of course,” Faith says, like it should be obvious. “I missed you like crazy.”

Buffy feels herself warming up. “I missed you, too,” she says, finally wrapping her arms around Faith.

Faith strokes her hair, then they’re leaning in together, noses bumping, lips brushing. Buffy presses into her more eagerly, now fully on the forgiveness train. Taking control of the kiss, Faith cradles Buffy’s neck with both hands, strong thumbs moving along her jaw line. Her lips are so soft, and she smells so good. Buffy forgets why she was mad in the first place. Why be mad when they could be doing this?

The kiss ends much sooner than Buffy wants. Faith doesn’t pull away though. Her fingertips ghost over the Buffy’s neck, bringing up goose bumps.  She looks at Buffy seriously, maybe even a little nervously. It looks like she’s trying to find words to say something.

“What is it?” Buffy asks, squeezing her waist in concern.

Faith swallows hard. “Marry me,” she says, her voice a little gravelly.

Her first response is to laugh. Faith’s gotta be joking. They’re so young, and this relationship is so new. Plus Buffy wouldn’t have thought Faith was the marrying type.

Faith’s face doesn’t change. She lowers her hands, pulling off her favorite ring and lifting Buffy’s hand. “I’m serious,” she says, in that same low voice. “I don’t ever wanna be away from you again.”

Heart pounding out of control, Buffy blinks, shocked. “This is so sudden,” she says, her voice shaking. “I don’t know what to say.” This is crazy, isn’t it? The two of them… slaying side by side every night, picking out china patterns and bath towels by day. But she has to admit… it doesn’t feel wrong.

“Say yes,” Faith says, looking like she might cry. She’s still holding her ring, poised at the tip of Buffy’s finger. “I know you want the white picket fence, the 2.5 kids, that whole thing. And maybe you think I can’t give you that stuff, but I swear, B, I’d do anything in the world to make you happy.”

“Faith…” Buffy says, her throat full with emotion.

“Because you’re the person that makes me happy,” Faith says. “You’re my whole world, and I know I can be… a lot,” she admits, even as Buffy shakes her head, “but you’ll never find anybody who loves you more.” She looks at Buffy expectantly, her eyes wide and a bit wet.

It feels like Buffy can’t quite catch her breath. Her mind is racing, her pulse pounding, and the biggest, most ridiculous smile is starting to form on her face. Faith’s ready to settle down, ready to tie herself to one person, and that person’s Buffy. She starts nodding even before she opens her mouth. “Yes,” she says, the rest of her response drowned out by Faith kissing her.

Happy tears stream down Buffy’s face, and she’s dimly aware of Faith sliding the ring over her finger. They cling to each other, standing just inside Shady Hill, damp grass under their feet and rows of tombstones behind them. It’s perfect that Faith proposed here, Buffy thinks, so completely them.  

“Let’s go home,” Faith says, her eyes sparkling in the darkness. “We should celebrate.”

XXXXX

“Sorry,” Faith says, leaping ahead of Buffy to pick up the jeans and work shirt she’d tossed on her bed when she came home to get changed before patrol. “I should have cleaned up before I went out.”

“It’s fine,” Buffy says, smiling at her as she pulls off her jacket.  She carefully drapes it over the end of the bed. “The place looks nice,” she says, looking around Faith’s studio apartment.

It’s definitely not much, but it’s a place to hang her swords. Faith shrugs uncomfortably. “Thanks.” She shrugs off her jacket, hanging it over one of the chairs   at her tiny dinette table. “Do you want something to drink? I don’t have champagne or anything, but I’ve got beer.”

Buffy shakes her head. “I want you to come here,” she says.

She doesn’t need to be told twice. Faith crosses the small room, coming to stand next to Buffy at the foot of her bed. Buffy’s hands find hers, squeezing. “When you said we should celebrate,” Buffy says quietly, “I kind of thought you meant something else.” She glances at Faith’s bed, biting her lip in a way that makes Faith’s face feel hot.

“Yeah?” Faith asks, trying to sound cooler than she feels.

Nodding, Buffy slips her fingers in the front pockets of Faith’s jeans, pulling their hips together.

Faith’s game. She’s very, very game, but there’s a strange niggling feeling in her mind telling her to be cautious about this. “We can wait,” she says, still trying to pinpoint what feels strange. “I know this stuff is a big deal for you.” She cups Buffy’s elbows in her hands, thumbs stroking the exposed skin of her arms.

“It is,” Buffy agrees, “but I want to do this, with you.” The softness in her eyes is making Faith’s stomach do somersaults. “I love you. You love me. We’re planning our lives together.”

There’s still something in her that’s hesitant, but Faith nods. She does love Buffy. And they’re getting married. What’s there to be nervous about?

Buffy doesn’t seem to share her hesitation. She slips her arms around Faith, tilting her lips up for a kiss. The last of Faith’s resistance fades away with the softness of Buffy’s mouth against hers. If she’s honest about it, Faith’s wanted to do this for a long time. It was the rest of it—the two of them falling for each other, Buffy accepting her proposal—that she wasn’t expecting. She’s never been with anyone she’s loved before, and Faith figures that maybe that’s the reason this feels different. This isn’t gonna be a get some and get gone situation. She needs to take care with Buffy, let her see how important she is to Faith.     

Faith’s fingers slide up the backs of Buffy’s arms, under her hair until they reach her neck. She strokes the soft skin there as they kiss, keeping their pace slow and steady until she can tell from the way Buffy’s knotting her hands into Faith’s clothes that she’s getting frustrated. Then she reaches for the bottom of Buffy’s shirt, meeting no resistance as she pulls it up and over Buffy’s head. Long, soft hair falls back over Buffy’s shoulders, and Faith brushes it down her back, bringing her mouth to Buffy’s shoulder as she finds the clasp of her bra. She scratches Buffy’s back softly as the bra snaps open, enjoying the way Buffy arches against her, pressing her chest into Faith’s.

Sliding the bra free from Buffy’s arms, Faith takes her time, her lips exploring Buffy’s shoulders, her collarbones, the hollow of her throat. Her fingers climb Buffy’s ribs until she’s cupping one perfect breast in each hand, her thumbs lightly stroking her nipples to wakefulness. Buffy seems to like that, and she makes a quiet mmm sound, her hands sliding into Faith’s hair. She tugs a little when Faith lets her teeth scrape the side of her neck, and Faith files that away for future reference.

She pulls back enough to get a good look at Buffy. Her skin is flushed, lips rosy from kissing. Her hands rest nervously against her pants. Faint traces of Faith’s lipstick stain her skin. “You’re so beautiful,” Faith says, her throat feeling strangely tight. She swallows, stepping closer again and bringing her hands to Buffy’s hips. She turns her slightly, so her back is to the bed. She’s intending to lay Buffy down, to continue her exploration of her body, but strong hands slide under Faith’s shirt, and Buffy presses back against her.  

Faith allows Buffy to pull the garment up and off, smiling as Buffy stumbles over the clasp of her bra. It takes a minute, but she manages to unhook it. The first press of Buffy’s bare skin to hers makes Faith’s whole body feel glowy and warm in a way she’s not used to. They work together to peel off the rest of their clothes until they stand before each other, bare in the grainy light of Faith’s apartment.

Buffy’s eyes rove over Faith, and ordinarily, Faith would make a joke, or she’d nudge her back onto the bed and make her forget she wanted to look, but this is Buffy. And Buffy is the person she’s going to marry. The person who wants to marry her. So Faith stands still, even when she wants to squirm. Even when Buffy’s eyes reach her thighs, and she can tell from the new wrinkle between Buffy’s eyebrows that she sees the scars. An uneven patch of too tight, too pale skin mars her skin, joined by another smaller mark to its left, a souvenir from her childhood. Barely visible to most people, but most people don’t look this closely.

Sure enough, Buffy brings her hand to the twin scars on Faith’s leg, fingers barely touching them. “How’d you get these?” She asks curiously.

She’s probably expecting some slaying related answer. “Cooking accident,” Faith says opaquely.

Buffy frowns, seeming to sense there’s more to the story. She says, “Must have hurt a lot.”

“I don’t remember much about it,” Faith shrugs. “Mom was passed out, and I was hungry. Too little to be using the stove. It was my own dumb fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy says softly. She moves her hand away, resting it on Faith’s hip.

Faith shrugs again, and Buffy seems to get the message that she doesn’t want to dwell on it. She runs her fingers down Faith’s side, over her inked skin, and says, “This is amazing, Faith.”

Surprised, Faith looks down at the tattoo she’d blown most of her disposable income on. It’s an abstract phoenix, with delicate black lines tracing its wings up her side. Its tail drapes down onto her thigh. The barest hint of color frames the black, and its talons sit on roses aligned low on her hip. Buffy leans in closer, spotting the partially hidden detail in the tattoo, a wood stake protruding through one of the roses.

“It’s a phoenix,” Faith says. “Figured it was appropriate. Rising from the ashes over and over. Like us.”

“Slayers, you mean.”

Faith nods. She touches the place where the stake is inked into her skin, from memory.

“I love it,” Buffy says softly, straightening up.

They come back together, hands and mouths meeting each other’s skin. Faith expects to be the one taking charge, but once they’re in her bed, it’s Buffy who seems sure of herself. She’s all over Faith, above her, beside her, long, soft hair trailing after her mouth as she finds new places to dip her tongue. It hasn’t even been that long since the last time Faith got off, but she feels desperate for Buffy’s touch. She aches and throbs, her thighs slick with need.

Buffy doesn’t make her wait. She rests her head on Faith’s breast when her fingers slip between her legs, and Faith cradles her there, moaning quietly against Buffy’s hair when she finally sinks carefully into the wetness waiting for her.

For the first few minutes, Buffy learns her way around, finding the places that make Faith curse and the ones that give her space to breathe again. Then she’s inside her, strong fingers hitting places that make Faith’s toes curl. Faith watches the muscles in Buffy’s arm tense and retract as she moves her hand, holding onto Buffy with one hand and the sheet beneath her with the other.

As a rule she’s not much for conversation during the deed. She spends most of that time in her own head, focused on what’s bringing the most pleasure to her body. Now, words form on her tongue, spilling free as Buffy’s fingers curl and plunge, pull and piston. Faith whispers, Buffy yes yes oh god right there baby.

Lifting her head, Buffy’s lips seek and find the delicate peak of Faith’s nipple. When her fingers slip free, Faith groans at the emptiness of it, until she finds Faith’s clit and presses down deliciously. Buffy circles slowly, delicate strokes that make Faith’s thighs tingle. She endures that as long as she can, until her eyes are squeezed shut so hard that she sees lights dancing across the inside of her eyelids, and she needs more. She listens to the sound of her own voice, ragged and panting, saying harder and please B please.

Buffy presses harder, two fingers sharing the work of massaging Faith’s clit. Faith’s stomach tightens, spine arching, legs quivering. Buffy mouths her way across Faith’s chest, leaving pink marks in her wake. She stretches over Faith, her breasts against Faith’s stomach, her unoccupied hand holding her body weight up. She looks up to watch Faith’s face, eyes more brown than green, pink lips parted in concentration.

Faith’s hips roll toward her hand, the two of them working in unison. Heat and tension build inside her, spreading over her whole body.  She clutches Buffy closer, not sure if she’s talking or just thinking yes yes yes Buffy Buffy, and now she’s shaking, her thighs closing around Buffy’s hand, kaleidoscopes behind her eyelids as she comes.  

For several minutes, she lies half dazed, sucking in air like it’s going out of style, Buffy’s hair tickling her chin. When she feels like she can move again, Faith kisses Buffy’s hair, shifting so they’re lying side by side, looking into each other’s faces.

Faith knows how to make a woman feel good; she’s done it to plenty of them in fact. But none of them have ever been Buffy. It’s never felt as important as this moment feels to her. She’s never wanted so badly to hold someone in her hand and feel her come apart at the seams. She’s oddly nervous as her hand finds its way to Buffy’s side.

It’s the way Buffy’s looking at her, she thinks. It’s not the heavy lidded anticipation, although that’s there too, but the soft, trusting way her eyes rest on Faith. There’s no shyness, no hesitation that Faith can see. She just knows that this feels right.

Buffy rolls onto her back when Faith presses at her hip, letting Faith position her where she wants.  When Faith sits up and slides her hand gently down Buffy’s hip, over her thigh, Buffy raises her knees, parting them slightly. Her legs quiver, just a hint of the skin between them peeking through, wet and ready.

Rearranging her position, Faith slides her knees between Buffy’s and gets on top. Buffy immediately wraps her arms around her, leaving her little room to move, but Faith makes it work. She kisses Buffy as she touches her for the first time, smiling when Buffy gasps against her mouth. She doesn’t let her fingers slip too far, staying carefully on her outer labia, drawing this out another few moments.

Buffy’s nails dig into Faith’s back in response, and Faith gives in, letting her fingers slip in further. She buries her face in Buffy’s neck, groaning at the feeling of Buffy in her hand.  “I love you,” Faith whispers, her lips against Buffy’s throat, letting her fingertips find their way to her clit.

“Love you,” Buffy murmurs back, her hand coming to Faith’s hair.

Faith concentrates harder on this than she ever has before. Nothing’s on autopilot; nothing’s instinct. She’s totally focused on every motion of her fingers, every scrape of her teeth against Buffy’s skin. She catalogues Buffy’s reactions for future reference. The whimper she gets when she stalls just short of entering her, circling her fingertips along sensitive skin. The hitch in Buffy’s breathing when Faith finally presses inside her, and the way her voice quavers when she says, deeper. 

She throws out her entire repertoire, building a new one bit by bit. She doesn’t need anything that doesn’t make Buffy make that little sound in the back of her throat. She won’t need it ever again, because it’s only going to be them from now on. Just Buffy’s fingers knotting in her hair when Faith slides her knee up and lets her thigh press against her. Just Buffy’s hips rolling up to meet her when Faith makes insistent, soft circles over her clit.

Her unoccupied hand is curled against Buffy’s shoulder, her thought process a convoluted puddle of B, mine, mine, so soft, love you. Faith has her mouth on every part of Buffy’s body she can reasonably reach without messing up her stroke. Her shoulder, her earlobe, her jaw, down her neck to her chest. Buffy strains underneath her, her legs trembling harder. She grips Faith desperately, panting against her hair, Faith Faith please don’t stop oh god.

From the kitchen, she hears the sound of the phone ringing, but ignores it, too focused on Buffy to stop now. They slip against each other, damp from exertion, and Faith can feel herself winding up again, her body already looking forward to round two. A new wave of wetness coats her fingers as Buffy arches beneath her, and even without slayer senses, she couldn’t miss the scent of her, tart with a hint of sweetness. The sounds Buffy makes when she comes officially push Faith into sensory overload. There are no words, just quiet moans cascading one after another as she rolls her head back, pressing hard against Faith’s leg and hand.

Faith keeps kissing her chest, soft and gentle, as Buffy rides out the aftershocks. When she’s ready, Faith gently pulls her leg back and slips her fingers free. She lies beside Buffy, not entirely surprised when she immediately curls against Faith’s chest. Putting her arms around her, Faith smoothes her hair back with her dry hand, and kisses her forehead. There’s a strange feeling in her chest. It takes her a minute to pin it down—she’s content. Usually when someone’s still in her bed after they’ve finished, it’s the complete opposite. But this… this is good.

“Mmm,” Buffy murmurs happily, her head resting over Faith’s heart.

Smiling, Faith starts to say something, but the phone rings again.

“We should get that,” Buffy says, sounding reluctant. “It might be important.”

XXXXX

Buffy lets them in to Giles’s apartment, a look of worry on her face. “Giles?” She calls, as Faith closes the door behind them.

“Here,” Giles says, from where he’s lying on the couch, his glasses off and a glass of amber colored liquid in his hand.

“What’s going on?” Buffy asks, skirting the couch and perching on the edge of the coffee table. “Something’s wrong with your vision?”

Giles sits up, taking a measured sip from his glass before he answers. “Yes,” he says. “I seem to be rather,” he pauses, blinking, “rather blind,” he finishes. “Completely, in fact.”

Leaning in the doorway to the hall, Faith says, “I’ve heard of being blind drunk. Didn’t think it was literal.”

Giles startles slightly at her voice. “Yes, well, the err, blindness, was mostly in place before I opened the Scotch.”

“It’s gotta be a spell,” Buffy says, casting a worried look at Faith.

Coming to Buffy’s side, Faith puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Where’s Spike?” She asks. “Did he have something to do with this?”

“I don’t think so,” Giles says. “He was still restrained when my vision started to go blurry. He just used the situation to his advantage and escaped.” He takes a sip from his glass.

“We’ll find him,” Buffy says, “as soon as we figure out what’s going on with you and how to fix it.”

“I’ve been trying to reach Willow,” Giles says, “but—”

The front door flies open, and both slayers look up to see Xander and Anya dash inside, closing and locking the door behind them. “Board up the windows and barricade the doors!” Xander says urgently.

“What's going on?” Giles asks, turning in their direction but unable to see anything.

Buffy gets to her feet, her arm brushing Faith’s.

“Demons,” Anya says, peering out the window beside the door. “They keep coming and coming.”

“I think we lost them, but I couldn't see,” Xander says, coming further into the room. He looks at Buffy and Faith for a second, as if detecting something amiss but not sure what.

“Okay,” Buffy says, taking charge, “let’s calm down, okay? If you lost them, that'll give us some time to figure this out.” She looks at Faith. “Maybe the demons have something to do with Giles being blind.”

Anya frowns, turning from the window. “Giles is blind?”

Curiously, Xander leans over the couch and waves two fingers in front of Giles’s face.

“Please stop whatever you're doing,” Giles says grumpily. “You smell like fruit roll-ups.”

Faith snorts a laugh.

Buffy elbows her, indignant on Giles’s behalf, but Faith catches her arm, lacing their fingers together.

Anya looks at them, confusion on her face, then at Xander. “Why are they holding hands?”

Looking at Buffy, Faith shrugs, leaving it up to her.

They have to find out sometime… Buffy smiles widely and displays her ring finger. “Faith and I are getting married!”

For a moment, no one speaks. Then Xander’s mouth opens. “How? What? How?”

Giles agrees in a tired voice, “Three excellent questions. When did this happen?”

“Just tonight!” Buffy answers happily, turning toward Faith, who wraps an arm around her and kisses the top of her head.

“Were you seeing each other?” Giles asks, sounding completely baffled.

“Well,” Anya says before they can answer, “congratulations! I think this is great.” She beams at Faith in particular. “Now you’ll be having sex with Buffy and you won’t try to get out those post slay jollies with Xander again.”

“There was zero chance of that happening,” Faith says in a matter of fact tone, then looks at Xander. “No offense.”

“Uhh,” Xander says, slightly offended but mostly just confused, “Wait… married... I know something.” He closes his eyes, massaging his temples. “What is it? Everything's so familiar. Work, brain, work!”

Already bored of this, Faith brings her mouth to Buffy’s ear. “I say we go find the demons and slay them, then go back to my place.” She nibbles lightly at Buffy’s earlobe. “I want you.”

“You do realize I’m blind, not deaf?” Giles clarifies from the couch.

“Oh!” Xander says, finally making the connection. “Willow!”

“Something happened to Willow?” Buffy asks, managing with some difficulty to pull herself away from Faith’s lips.

“She told me I was a demon magnet,” Xander says excitedly. “And that you two should get married!”

“And that I didn't see anything,” Giles says, realizing what Xander’s getting at.

“She did a spell,” Faith says.

“Yes, to have her will done,” Giles confirms. “Whatever she says is coming true.”

“And you both were affected,” Buffy says, wincing. “We probably only escaped because we’re slayers. Some kind of natural immunity.” She grins at Faith.

“Yeah,” Xander drawls. “Faith just woke up today feeling like a shotgun wedding.”

Buffy frowns, hurt, and Faith puts her arm around her. “Hey, don’t take it out on us because you’re Mr. Demon Magnet.”

Struggling to his feet, Giles says, “Let’s try to focus. Willow is out there, and she probably doesn't know what she's doing.”

Xander and Faith glower at each other for a moment, before he agrees, “We gotta find her.”  

XXXXX

“Anya!” Buffy shouts, trying to hold the crypt doors closed. “How’s that summoning going?”

“Let her concentrate!” Xander says, wielding a standing candelabra and smashing it into the face of a demon that manages to poke its head through one of the high windows in the crypt. “She’s got this! Right, honey?”

On the floor across from them, Anya’s chanting to herself, forgetting the words and starting over.

An arm bursts through the crypt door and grasps Buffy by the throat. She flails, releasing her weight against the door, and it plows open, throwing her backward.

“Buffy!” Faith cries, knocking the demon she’s grappling with out cold and coming to her aid.

“Hey, Ahn,” Xander yells, “no pressure, but we’re not doing so great here!”

Anya ignores all the cacophony from behind her, still trying to get the summoning spell correct.

Faith’s foot connects with the demon on top of Buffy, and Buffy sucks in air greedily as it goes sprawling away.  Offering her a hand up, Faith pulls Buffy to her feet, and they position themselves back to back, as demons flood the room. Buffy loses track of the others as she fights, her focus narrowing to one thought: slay and move on.

She takes down three before she gets enough space to look for Faith. She spots her viciously whipping a demon away by its long horns, smiling grimly when it connects face first into the wall. She’s bleeding freely from a cut on her cheek, and the sight of it fills Buffy with rage. She starts in her direction, putting another demon down with a kick that sends its head snapping backward on her way. When she reaches her, she takes Faith’s chin in her hand, bringing light fingers to her cheek. “Are you okay?” She asks, worried.

“Fine,” Faith says, panting. She smiles, seizing Buffy’s waist and yanking her closer. “That jump kick was so hot.”

“Yeah?” Buffy asks, her mouth curling into a smile.

Faith kisses her, hands wandering down her back, and Buffy happily reciprocates. From behind them, Buffy’s dimly aware of a flash of light and someone speaking, but she can’t seem to stop kissing Faith. Her hands are in Faith’s hair now, the scent of blood and sweat on both of them, and Buffy’s wondering how soon they can save the day and go back to Faith’s place.

Reality sets in when she feels Faith go rigid in her arms.

Wait… Faith?!

Shocked, Buffy steps back. “Faith!”

Faith shakes her head, not meeting Buffy’s eyes, and backs up, putting extra space between them.

“Hey, guys,” Willow says sheepishly. When no one responds, she tries, “What’d I miss?”

Faith turns on her heel and walks out of the crypt, not looking at any of them.

XXXXX

“Eat a cookie; ease my pain?”

Buffy looks up from where she’s zoning out, lost in her own thoughts. She takes one of the cookies from the offered plate and bites into it. It’s pretty good. She smiles at Willow. “Better?”

Willow shrugs half-heartedly. “Well, baking lifts about 30% of my guilt, but only 7% of my inner turmoil. Guess that'll just take awhile.”

“It'll happen,” Buffy says kindly.

Spike watches them from where he’s once again restrained near Giles’s desk. “Don't I get a cookie?”

“No,” Buffy says shortly. She and Willow shuffle further into the hallway, putting more space between them and Spike’s prying ears.

“How are you?” Willow asks, wincing preemptively as if she’s afraid to know the answer. She wiggles the plate enticingly at Buffy.

Accepting another cookie, Buffy shrugs. “Okay, I guess. Dealing.” She looks down as she takes a bite of cookie. “I haven’t seen Faith.”

“Did I mention about the sorry part?”

Buffy smiles faintly. “We may be into a forgetting spell later,” she says.

Willow looks on the verge of apologizing again, but then she squares her shoulders. “About the you and Faith stuff,” she starts, glancing furtively down the hall and lowering her voice a little. “I’ve been talking to Giles about the spell, and I think from what you told me… it was maybe… not all my will that was done.”

“Huh?” Buffy asks.

Flushing, Willow says, “I said you guys should get married. So you could have spent the whole night discussing invitations, or caterers, or I don’t know, looking at wedding dresses.” She gives Buffy a searching look. “But that’s not what you did.”

“So, what are you saying?”

Her response is a tentative smile. “Maybe the way the spell impacted you both means something?”

XXXXX

Hopping up on her kitchen counter, Faith pops open a bottle of Coke nice and frosty from the fridge. Patrol’s done, and she’ll call Giles tomorrow to report the absolutely nothing of interest that she saw tonight. She wonders if Buffy’s seeing the same on her side of town, or if there have been any updates on the commando situation. It’s not like anyone would think to inform her unless she asked. She hasn’t seen Buffy in almost a week, not since the day that Willow and her griefy-poor-me mood swings had led to the two of them first getting engaged, then getting horizontal. And Faith doesn’t care. She definitely doesn’t. It’s better, even, patrolling by herself. No one nagging her about whether she shows up on time or how long she toys with a vamp before she stakes him. She’s living entirely large, doing what she does best.

Does it kind of suck, knowing that Buffy’s avoiding her? Yeah, but it’s not like Faith’s chomping at the bit to see her either. It’s the weirdest thing—she can remember exactly how she felt under the spell. Every part of her was so sure that being with Buffy was right. She loved her, totally and completely, not a doubt in her mind about it. That part was Willow’s fault. The rest of it… well, she’s the one who invited Buffy back to her place. She knew something felt a little off, but she ignored that feeling and slept with her anyway. She can’t even blame that on the spell, because honestly, wanting Buffy isn’t something Willow had to put in her head. That part was already there.

Maybe she should just feel good about it. She got what she wanted, and was that ever gonna happen without magical intervention? Probably not. She can’t feel good about it though, because she knows damn well that it’s why Buffy’s avoiding her now. Buffy either hates her guts now, or at the very least she’s completely wigged out. Maybe it’s not all Faith’s fault, not exactly, but Faith was the one in the room with her. Faith was the one who made promises that turned out to be false.

Even being in her apartment right now feels like too much to handle.  She can’t look at her bed without thinking about Buffy in it, hence her current position in the kitchen. She’s starting to get that familiar itch to hit the road. Time to get out of Sunnydale and let all this roll off her back. Put Buffy and that night behind her, at least for now. It’s probably best for both of them. 

A knock at the door surprises her, and Faith sets her half drunk bottle down on the counter. Sliding soundlessly onto her feet, Faith heads for the door, plucking her stake from where it’s still tucked in her waistband. She opens the door with a frown, surprised to see Buffy standing on the other side. She’s dressed for patrol, in black lycra and sneakers. She gives Faith a tentative smile.

Stowing the stake again, Faith opens the door wider, giving her space to come inside the apartment. Buffy enters, stepping out of the way so Faith can close the door.

“What’s up?” Faith asks, leaving plenty of space between them. She stands on one side of the small hallway, Buffy on the other.

“Haven’t seen you in a few days,” Buffy says tactfully. “Figured I’d check on you.”

“I’m five by five,” Faith says, shrugging. She brings her hands together, cracking her knuckles. A nervous habit she’s never quite kicked.

Nodding, Buffy looks like she feels as awkward as Faith does. She glances into the apartment, her cheeks flushing when her eyes land on the bed.

Faith throws her a bone, gesturing for her to enter the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” Buffy says, but she goes into the kitchen anyway, setting one hand on the counter and leaning against it.

Picking up her drink, Faith takes a sip and tries to figure out what Buffy’s doing here. She gives it a minute, but Buffy doesn’t seem on the verge of volunteering an explanation. “How’re you?” Faith asks, trying to generate some forward momentum to this unannounced house call Buffy’s made.

“I’m okay,” Buffy says automatically, then shrugs. “Just, you know, a lot of thoughts.”

“Yeah,” Faith agrees, fiddling with the cold bottle in her hands.

The kitchen is quiet, and they both seem to be looking anywhere but at each other.

Finally, Buffy says, “I don’t want things to be weird between us.”

Faith looks up.

Buffy gives her an uncertain smile. “It’s not like we… it’s not like something bad happened. No one got hurt.”

“No?” Faith asks, giving her a skeptical look. “Just a wild guess, but I’m thinking you didn’t get up that morning planning on jumping my bones.”

Flushing, Buffy shakes her head. “But it wasn’t, umm, I mean, you made it… nice. For me.” Her face is beet red, but she continues, “I felt safe with you, you know?”

A beat passes while Faith takes that in. “I get it,” she says. Actually, she gets it extremely well, because she felt the same way. She’s not going to say that though. “If I’d known it was a spell,” Faith says earnestly, “I’d never have taken things there.”

Buffy looks down at her feet, obviously a little embarrassed. “I’m pretty sure it was my idea.”

It was, mostly, but it’s not like Faith was protesting.

“And,” Buffy says, putting on a bright voice, “if Willow was going to magically betroth me to someone, you’re not the worst choice.” She grimaces. “It could have been Spike.”

The idea of Buffy and Spike getting engaged is hilarious, and Faith cracks a smile. “Better than Spike,” she says dryly. “A glowing endorsement.”

Buffy reaches over, shoving her shoulder. “You’re better than a lot of people,” she admits, “and it was kind of nice not arguing… for a change.” She grins slyly.

Faith laughs, easily maintaining her balance. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“Maybe we could try to cut each other some more slack?” Buffy suggests. “Be more honest?”

Confused, Faith asks, “Honest?”

Buffy shrugs. “I did miss you when you were gone,” she admits, “worried about you, whatever.”

Surprised, Faith says, “Oh.” Then, when her mouth catches up to her brain, she adds, “I missed you, too.”

This honest, talking-without-arguing thing already seems like a bad idea, because Faith watches Buffy’s mouth curl into a smile and starts thinking about kissing her.

“Can I still get that drink?” Buffy asks.

She’s planning on staying a while then… “Sure,” Faith says, gesturing at the fridge. “Help yourself.”

Buffy selects the other bottle of Coke, which technically Faith was saving to take to work with her lunch, but that’s fine. Still clutching her own bottle, Faith turns and heads out of the kitchen. They can’t very well stand in there all night, if Buffy’s gonna stay a while. They’ll have to venture into the rest of the apartment. Just ignore the big bed-shaped elephant in the room. No problem.

Faith sits cross-legged on the edge of her bed, facing the table and chairs. It seems like Buffy will be more comfortable sitting there. Plus the idea of seeing her sitting on the bed right now sounds a little too good. She needs to get her mind out of the gutter. Go back to how it was when she didn’t yet know what B sounds like when she comes, or what her mouth feels like against Faith’s skin.

Taking a seat, Buffy looks at Faith sitting on the bed then takes a gulp of her drink. She doesn’t seem to be as on board the repression train as Faith is, because a moment later, she says, “It just felt so real.”

Faith’s breath catches in her chest for a second before she lets it out, slow and measured. “I know,” she agrees. Then, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Buffy asks confused. “It wasn’t your fault. We were both under the spell.”

“Yeah,” Faith agrees, “but it’s probably easier for me.”

“Why would it be?” Buffy asks.

Looking at Buffy, the puzzled wrinkle between her eyebrows, her eyes trained on Faith, waiting for an explanation, Faith thinks about playing it off. She can still walk this back, do an about face before she has to watch Buffy’s expression twist in disgust or worse, pity. But she did ask for honesty. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before,” Faith says, going for nonchalant and not sure if that comes across.

“Well, yeah,” Buffy says, still looking like she’s not quite getting it, “you’ve had girlfriends.” Faith’s definitely not had girlfriends, but now doesn’t look like the time to clarify that, because Buffy’s getting that look on her face like it’s finally sinking in. “You mean me and you,” she says, her voice a little higher than normal.

Faith’s not sure if that’s a question or a statement, but she nods anyway.

“You’ve thought about us sleeping together, or you mean…?”

It surprises her that Buffy’s probing for more detail. Faith half expected her to be out of her chair and making her way to the door while doing that awkward babble thing she’s so good at. “I think about all of it,” she admits, then realizes how that sounds. “Not the wedding part,” she clarifies, “but the rest of it.”

Buffy’s sitting very still, and Faith fidgets, fighting the urge to get up and pretend she needs something from the kitchen, just to move away from her. After a moment, Buffy speaks, her voice quiet. “I’ve thought about it, too.”

That, Faith was not expecting. Her lips form an ‘O’ of surprise, and luckily Buffy doesn’t see how stupid she looks because she’s busy memorizing the pattern in the carpet.

“It’s kind of all I’ve been thinking about,” Buffy admits.

She doesn’t decide to make a joke, it just happens. “I knew I was good in bed, but damn,” Faith says, a salacious grin taking up residence on her face.

Buffy flinches. “Don’t,” she says, sounding hurt. “Don’t make it sound like—”

“Okay,” Faith says, immediately contrite. “I’m sorry.” They sit in silence for a minute, Buffy not meeting her eyes, before Faith sets her bottle carefully on the floor and holds her hand out. “Come here?”

There’s a moment’s hesitation, then Buffy sets her drink on the table and stands. She takes Faith’s hand, coming over to the bed. Faith turns sideways, guiding Buffy to sit beside her.

“Tell me what you’ve been thinking,” Faith says, when Buffy’s sitting next to her. She rests their joined hands on her knee.

“Willow told me her spell was pretty literal,” Buffy says uncertainly. “So it made us want to get married, but everything else was kind of… up to our interpretation.” Before Faith can respond, Buffy’s free hand comes up to her cheek. Buffy looks into her eyes, her thumb brushing Faith’s skin lightly. Then her fingers slip into Faith’s hair, and Buffy leans in.

Faith closes her eyes as Buffy kisses her. Her hand tightens on Buffy’s, but otherwise she lets her lead. She’s barely breathing as Buffy shifts closer, pressing her lips to Faith’s more firmly. There’s no magic spell paving the way, no manufactured familiarity, and they fumble through it, their noses squishing until they work out the angles.

She’s just working up the nerve to move her hand onto Buffy’s leg when Buffy sits back, licking her lips. “So, I’ve mostly been thinking about doing that,” she says.

“And we’re sure this isn’t a different spell?” Faith asks, at least half serious.

Buffy smiles. “Willow’s focusing her talents on obsessive baking right now. No magic.”

“Good,” Faith says, “and uhh, are you thinking we should do that again?” She waits for Buffy’s nod, then leans in, her hand sliding onto Buffy’s leg. It’s more comfortable this time. Buffy’s hand is back in her hair, her thumb against the back of Faith’s neck. She tugs her closer, and Faith goes, smiling against her mouth.  

Her knee presses into Buffy’s thigh, both of them twisting awkwardly to get closer. Buffy smells incredible, and Faith wants to push her back onto the bed, wants to trail her lips down Buffy’s neck and work her hands under the tight shirt she’s wearing because it’s been too many days since she’s felt her skin, but she holds herself back. This is all new for them, regardless of what happened last week. She contents herself with the soft slide of Buffy’s hair through her fingers and the breathless way Buffy’s kissing her, like she can’t get enough.

When they finally pause for a second, Faith raises an eyebrow and asks, “I forgot to ask. Think I could get my ring back?”

“No,” Buffy says sweetly. “I’m keeping that. It was a gift.”

Damn. That was her favorite ring, too. “You know that was an engagement ring, right?” Faith asks. “You’re supposed to return those if it doesn’t work out.”

“Who says it won’t?” Buffy asks. She grins at Faith’s surprised face, pleased with herself.

Faith recovers. She’s always been able to give as good as she gets. “Kind of sounds like you do wanna marry me,” she points out, her voice mischievous.

Her teeth worry her lip for a moment, then Buffy says, “Let’s see how our first date goes.” She gives Faith a hopeful look and asks, “Pick you up tomorrow after work?”

Faith weighs her options. She doesn’t really date in the traditional sense. Then again, they’ve already gotten engaged, fallen in love, slept together, and then undid all of that, within one day, so maybe tradition isn’t really something she needs to stand on in this case. Besides… Faith’s sort of excited to see where this leads. “Okay,” she says, smiling when she sees Buffy’s face light up. “It’s a date.”