Giles takes a sip of his hot toddy, savoring the slight burn of the whiskey on his tongue before he puts the mug down and sets to the task at hand. A disheveled stack of progress reports sits in the center of his desk, waiting for his review. He’s most interested in the reports on the newest crop of young women in their ranks. This group is the smallest they’ve seen in recent memory, which he’s choosing to interpret as a sign that the waves of newly activated girls are finally slowing down. In the four years since the collapse of Sunnydale, they’ve located almost two thousand slayers, and trained and organized hundreds of them, ranging in age from 12 to early 30s. They’ve set up shop in the castle, amassing a network of resources including watchers, teachers, magic practitioners, squad leaders around the world, and allies that can be relied on in a pinch. They’ve gotten the process down to a science, and he’s immensely proud of their efforts.

Still, he’s glad to see a smaller group of newly activated girls. Over the past six months, they’ve only located about a dozen new slayers, all of them under 18. They seem to finally be reaching an equilibrium between Willow’s spell and the original line. He picks up the reports, shuffling through and picking out those relevant to the newest recruits. It’s easy enough to do—Buffy’s loopy signature is on each of their forms.

Just as he begins reading the first form, a knock sounds on his door. He calls out a greeting, looking up as the door swings open. A large crate comes through, easily toted by Faith.

“Faith,” Giles greets, standing up quickly and heading for her. “It’s good to see you.”

“Where should I…?”

“Oh!” Giles quickly moves things around on the large table opposite his desk, leaving room for her to place the crate. “Here would be lovely.”

She sets the unwieldy box down and then dusts off her hands, turning to him with a hesitant smile.

It’s been months since Faith’s been back to the command center, and Giles is pleasantly surprised to see her. Xander had mentioned he’d reached out with an invite to spend the holidays with them, but that was no guarantee that she’d actually show up. In the time since Sunnydale, they’ve seen Faith only sporadically. She always responds to their requests for help, but he honestly doesn’t know what she does the rest of the time. Whatever it is, she at least looks well. She endures his awkward shoulder clasp with a tight smile and a light squeeze of his forearm before stepping out of range.

“When did you arrive?” Giles asks.

Taking a seat on the worn leather couch, Faith crosses her legs at the ankle and leans back. “About 5 minutes ago. I talked the delivery guy into driving me up to the door in exchange for a few quid and unloading this giant box,” she gestures at the crate. “Left my stuff in the hall, and here we are.”

Giles frowns. “Why didn’t you tell us when you were getting in? Someone could have picked you up.”

Faith shrugs. “It was kind of a last minute decision. It’s not a big deal. Xand said most of the newbies are headed home for Christmas and it would be cool if I stayed.” She looks at him for confirmation, as if suddenly realizing this might not have been a real invitation.

“Of course,” Giles says immediately. “I’m happy you were able to come. We were hoping you would.”

Nodding, Faith quickly changes the subject, “So, uh, what’s in the box?”

Retrieving a crowbar from his desk drawer, Giles pries the top of the crate open. Inside, numerous small objects are nestled in bubble wrap and protective packaging. “Ah,” Giles says, “it’s a shipment of artifacts I’ve been waiting on. The box got stuck in customs for a few weeks.”

He expects her to make herself scarce at that, but Faith seems content to slowly sink further into the couch while he busies himself with the crate. Pulling some packing material out of the way, Giles lifts a small, furry object free and studies it carefully.

Faith looks at what Giles is holding with vague interest. “What is it?”

“A Sacred Hutamin Paw,” Giles says. Finding it in good condition, he sets it on the table. “It’s used for the Bu'shundi ritual—sort of an extra strength locator spell.”

“Hmm,” Faith says, sitting up straighter and showing a little more interest as Giles returns to digging in the box. “What’s that?” she asks, as he unearths the next item.

“A Manari candle “ Giles answers. He scoops up the Paw and walks them both over to the open apothecary cabinet. He sets them on an empty shelf.

When he turns back, Faith is standing beside the box with something shiny in her hand. “What’s this one?” She asks, rotating her hand so the orb catches the light.  

Hurrying over, Giles reaches for it. “An Algurian conjuring orb,” he says, plucking it from her fingers, “and it nearly cost me a kidney. We have to be careful with it.” He goes back to the cabinet, laying the orb gently in a small padded bowl.

“How about this one?”

“Faith,” Giles says, impatience beginning to get the better of him as he turns back to face her. “That’s…” he trails off, looking at the object in her hands. “Actually, I don’t know what that is. Where did you get it?”

“In the box,” Faith says, stating the obvious.

“Hmm,” Giles says, coming to join her at the crate. He reaches in, shifting items aside until he finds the packing slip. Scanning it, he finds a note from Gregor, his supplier, and chuckles. “It’s a Demara talisman,” he says. “I haven’t seen one before.”

“What’s it do?” Faith asks, looking at it a little closer.

The talisman is small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, made of smooth, dark wood. It’s shaped like a cube, with no visible seams along its edges. “Nothing,” Giles says. “At one point in the 60s, they were all the rage. People believed they brought luck.” He shrugs, reaching into the box for another bubble wrapped item. “It’s just a trinket.”

Faith sets it down on his table with a shrug, already reaching back in the box. “How about this one?”

XXXXX

Probably as payback for annoying the shit out of him earlier in the day, Giles ropes Faith into leading impromptu combat drills. “The girls have been restless with Buffy out of town,” he told her.

Faith agrees without asking where Buffy’s disappeared to. Seeing Buffy is always the diciest part of her time at the castle. Sometimes they get along perfectly well; others they get on each other’s nerves. Put the two of them in the same room and it’s like they’re right back in Sunnydale. Buffy drives her nuts, but Faith also craves her company for some reason. She’s a glutton for punishment, probably.

The newbies don’t seem to mind being put through their paces, and Faith notices a few older slayers she vaguely recognizes join in as well. Curiosity is evident in most of their faces. God knows what stories Andrew’s been spreading about her this time, so Faith just ignores it, maintaining a calm, focused exterior that she’s spent the past few years cultivating. In spite of her best efforts, several young women dawdle around the edges of the gym after she dismisses them, obviously intending to speak with her. Just when Faith’s calculating how quickly she can make her escape, the gym door opens and Xander sweeps inside, his face lighting up when he sees her and begins crossing the room.  

“Hey,” Faith starts to greet, surprised when Xander throws his arms around her and squeezes. “Uh, hi.” She pats his back awkwardly.

“Hi!” Xander says, releasing her and then giving her an extremely severe look. “Why did I find out you were here from Molly? She’s been here for like one month and she knows before me?!”

Faith has no idea who Molly is, but she makes an appropriately apologetic face. “I would’ve come to see you, but Giles put me to work.” She gestures toward the young slayers still standing in the wings.

Xander glances at them, still frowning. Then he slings an arm around Faith’s shoulders and begins towing her toward the exit. “Come on,” he says. “I’m taking you to Willow for a strong scolding.”

“Think you might hook me up with a spare bed on the way to said scolding?” Faith asks, giving an insincere smile to the disappointed slayers now gathering their things to leave the gym.

“You don’t have a room yet?” Xander lets his arm drop from her shoulders as they make it into the hall.

“Think G was a little preoccupied with some goodies he got in the mail today,” Faith says. “No big.”

“We’ll get you set up,” Xander assures her. Then he gives her an almost shy half smile before looking away.

“What?” Faith asks suspiciously.

“It’s good to see you, Faith,” he says.

The sincerity in his voice is obvious, and Faith feels her face growing a little warmer. “Yeah,” she says, “you too.”

It still feels strange—knowing that these people actually want her around. For some reason though, they do. She spends her night in what they call the Scooby Suite, a wing that houses most of their bedrooms and its own small kitchen and sitting areas. She stuffs her face and kicks Xander’s ass at foosball. When Dawn stops in, lamenting a fight with her boyfriend, Faith offers to rough him up, which at least garners her a smile. Willow and Kennedy stay for a while, trying to give Xander pointers.  It’s nice, although admittedly a bit weird without Buffy around. All in all though, she’s surprised at how comfortable it is, and how much she genuinely enjoys herself.

When she gets to the room that she’s been given for her stay, Faith opens her bag, pulling out the small supply of clothing she brought and setting it on the arm chair. Her toiletries go in the bathroom, and she plugs in her phone charger behind the bedside table. One hot shower later, she’s pulled on sweat pants and a baggy tank top and is reaching for her hairbrush when her eyes land on something out of place among her belongings. The Demara talisman is sitting at the end of the dresser, the room’s low light making its wooden surface look particularly rich and shiny. She frowns, glancing at the bedroom door. It’s unlocked, and Faith relaxes slightly. She must have left it open, and Giles left the talisman here as some kind of joke. Putting it out of her mind, she locks the door and turns down the bed. Under the covers, she quickly falls asleep.

XXXXX

The alluring smell of breakfast sneaks its way into her room and under the covers, but Faith resists for a few minutes, too content under the oversize duvet to think about moving. Scooby central might come with its own challenges, but the bedroom situation here is on lock. This is the third guest room she’s stayed in, and all of them come with mattresses so comfortable that she’s sort of suspicious that magic might be involved. Then they’re covered with incredibly soft and cozy sheets and blankets, and all combined, Faith’s not actually sure how the residents manage to get out of bed for their daily tasks. Maybe it’s just the guest bedrooms that are this  comfortable.

Eventually, the growling of her stomach prevails, and Faith reluctantly peels the covers back slightly, peering out into the brightly lit room. On the bedside table, her phone sits where she left it, plugged in to the charger. Beside it, she sees the outline of a wood cube and frowns. Pushing the covers aside, she sits up, reaching for it. The wood’s as smooth as she remembers from yesterday in Giles’s office, but when she turns it in her hand, she sees the face of the talisman now reflects a carved image. It’s a small house, more like a cottage really, and she’s 100% sure it wasn’t there yesterday. Just in case, she glances at the dresser. The place she left the talisman before getting into bed is now empty.

“Huh,” Faith says out loud, not unnerved by this new development so much as mildly annoyed. This was supposed to be a break from work, and now she has some haunted talisman thing floating around her room in the night. “Whatever this is,” she says directly to the talisman, “no.” She puts it down on the table and swings her legs over the side of the bed. She’ll stop on the way to breakfast and tell G his weird gift is possessed.

On the way to the dining hall, she sees Willow, who is cheerfully chatting with an older woman that Faith vaguely recognizes.  It takes her a minute, but eventually she places her: Liliya, one of the witches Giles recruited. Willow spots Faith and waves her forward, bidding farewell to Liliya before Faith reaches her. “Morning!” Willow says. “Headed to breakfast?”

Faith nods, then holds up the talisman. “Was gonna drop this off with G first.”

“What is it?” Willow asks as the two of them fall into step together.

“Nothing, according to Giles,” Faith says. “He got it in a shipment of goods yesterday; said it was useless. I found it in my room last night, and by this morning, it looked like this.” She rotates the cube to show Willow the carving. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”

Willow looks intrigued. “May I?” She holds out her hand.

Shrugging, Faith deposits the talisman in her palm.

Willow’s walk slows, then stops, until they’re standing in the middle of the hallway blocking traffic. “It’s definitely something,” she says, frowning in concentration. “I’m getting a weird energy from it.”

“Evil weird?” Faith asks, looking longingly in the direction of the dining room.

“I don’t know,” Willow says. “Can I keep it? I have a class this morning but then I can look into it.”

“Be my guest,” Faith says. “It’s not mine anyway.”

After breakfast, Willow disappears with the talisman. The day flies by after Faith is somehow persuaded into conducting a few classes. She’s gotta hand it to Giles; he really has a knack for getting people to do his bidding. Or maybe she’s just grown up some since high school. Probably the former.

By the time she’s finished with the last class and endured being fawned over by a few juniors, she’s almost forgotten about the talisman. That lasts until she heads to the kitchen for a snack and bumps into Kennedy traipsing through the main hall with skis over her shoulder.

Faith stands aside so she doesn’t get whacked in the face and asks, “Where’re you headed?”

Kennedy stops, maneuvering the skis from her shoulder and leaning them on the ground for a moment. “You didn’t hear?” She asks, sounding uncharacteristically upbeat.

“Hear what?”

“One of Giles’s old watcher buddies is totally hooking us up. He has a big house up North, and he’s letting us stay there for a few weeks.”

Faith frowns, the talisman immediately back front and center in her mind.

“What?” Kennedy asks, confused by her expression. “You got something against spending Christmas in a literal Winter Wonderland?”

“Oh,” Faith says, pulled back into their convo, “nah, it sounds cool. Somebody probably needs to stay here though, for the girls who aren’t leaving. I could—”

“Nope,” Kennedy cuts in, already picking her skis back up. “Everybody’s headed out!”

“Really?” Faith asks. There’s gotta be slayers who don’t celebrate Christmas.

“Yup,” Kennedy says. “Our last couple holdouts decided to go to Spain on a girls’ trip.” She shrugs. “No excuses, Lehane. You’re gonna get in your matching pajamas like the rest of us and have a Norman fucking Rockwell Christmas.”

Matching pajamas? “I don’t see that happening.”

“Hey, if you wanna argue with Dawn, good luck.” Kennedy adjusts her grip and smiles brightly. “Catch you later.”

“See ya,” Faith agrees, her earlier destination forgotten. She heads for the stairs, making her way toward the large suite that functions as the magic headquarters for the castle. Willow’s office is the last in the row.

Faith knocks lightly before pushing the door open slightly and peering in.

“Faith,” Willow says with a strained smile, “come in.” She has the talisman sitting on the desk in front of her, positioned under a mounted magnifying glass.

“Any luck with that thing?” Faith asks, gesturing toward it. She closes the door behind herself.

“Well,” Willow says, sitting back and rolling her shoulders with a wince, “the good news is it’s not evil, strictly speaking.”

Faith’s not exactly impressed with the sound of that.

“It’s also not a Demara talisman,” Willow says, “or maybe it is, and we’ve just been wrong about what the talismans actually do. Maybe Demara Talismans are really something else.” She makes a thoughtful face. “Which would be really funny considering ‘Demara’ is also the name of —”

“Willow,” Faith cuts in impatiently. “What is it?”

Visibly reining herself in, Willow points her over to the couch. She gets up, retrieving her laptop and taking the seat next to Faith. “Okay,” Willow says, in what Faith recognizes as her teaching voice, “we recently finished digitizing most of the collection, and we have this nifty research program now that shaves hours and hours off our time.” Faith’s eyes threaten to glaze over, and Willow hurries herself to the explanation. “The thing that didn’t make sense was the transmogrification. Demara talismans are just cubes. That’s the whole point. So I cross referenced Demaras with transmogrification, and I found this footnote.” She clicks, showing Faith a scanned page from what appears to be an old book. There’s a transcript of its contents next to it, and Faith finds the footnote quickly.

The name ‘Demara’ may have evolved from the talisman’s physical similarity to the totems of Dernera. Dernera’s totems were said to possess the ability to change in form once activated.

“So,” Faith says, “this thing is a totem of Dernera? What’s a Dernera?”

“Who is Dernera,” Willow corrects, “and that’s where it gets a little weirder.” She closes her laptop and gets up, retrieving a book she’s left open on the desk. Holding it out to Faith, she says, “Dernera was one of the Powers That Be until she fell out of favor with the other Powers and was banished. She retained only a small portion of her power, but in our world, that would still be super formidable.”

“Like Jasmine?” Faith asks, accepting the book and looking at the page with trepidation. It’s in a language she can’t read, but the illustration of the wood cube is all too familiar.

“Yes!” Willow nods enthusiastically. “I mean, no, not exactly. Wherever Dernera is, tangoing with humans seems to be the last thing on her to-do list. There are only two credible sightings of her in all of our recorded histories. There are a few more mentions of her totems, but even those have hardly been seen.”

“So what does this thing do exactly?” Faith asks, gesturing at the totem still sitting on the desk. She can’t imagine it does anything good. Maybe this Power only eats the brains of people who find her totems.

“Basically?” Willow says. “It grants you your heart’s greatest desire.”

That was not how she saw this going. “Huh?” Faith asks.

Pointing to the passage Faith can’t read, Willow says, “This part right here means the deepest wish of your heart.”

“What’s the rest of it say?” Faith asks, suspiciously.

“Well,” Willow says, sounding a little less excited. “There’s a catch. You’re dealing with one of the Powers. There almost had to be.” She frowns. “Once the totem chooses you, it will give you the chance to attain the thing you want most, but if you don’t succeed, it’ll be lost to you forever.”

“So just a tiny little catch,” Faith deadpans.

Willow takes the book back with a grimace. “Yeah, I know,” she says, “but it’s not, like, a Little Mermaid situation. Dernera isn’t going to steal your voice and sabotage you. As far as I can tell, she might actually be helping you.”

“You said the totem chose me,” Faith says. “Why?”

“The Powers work in mysterious ways?” Willow offers, shrugging. “It would explain why her totems are easily mistaken for Demara talismans though. They don’t actually activate unless they want to.”

“The totem wants to?” Faith asks, feeling a little creeped out as she glances at the small object.

“Or Dernera herself,” Willow says. “I’m not totally sure how it works.”

“Anything in there about rejecting this offer?” Faith asks, pointing to the book.

“Not that I’ve found,” Willow says. She sets the book back on the table and sits heavily on the couch.

“So basically it’s a curse,” Faith says.

Willow shakes her head. “No, it’s more like a gift… that you didn’t want and can’t give back and that will backfire on you if you don’t go along with it.” She musters up a bright smile. “There is a time limit though. From what I was able to tell, you have six full days after activating the totem. If you do nothing by the end of the 24th, it’ll be over.” She looks at Faith a little closer. “You don’t want to try to obtain your heart’s desire?”

Faith’s pretty sure it would take more than one former Power That Be (Power That Was? Whatever.) to make that happen. All things considered, she’d rather not be manipulated by some weird little totem. “No,” she says without elaborating further.

Willow looks at the closed book as if it might offer some further clarity, frowning. She says, “As far as I can tell, there’s no way to decline, especially since it’s already started.” On Faith’s confused face, she adds, “It turned into a little house and the next thing you know, Giles announces we’re going away for Christmas?” She waits for Faith to say something, and when she doesn’t, Willow prods further. “Was your deepest wish to have a very merry Christmas?”

Giving her a pointed look, Faith says, “No.”

“It was a good guess,” Willow says defensively. “There’s only like one million movies about having the perfect family Christmas or whatever. Your people take it very seriously.”

Faith snorts softly.

“Well,” Willow says in a thoughtful tone that Faith doesn’t really like, “whatever it is… it looks like it’s happening up North with us.”

“Great,” Faith says sourly.

“Hey,” Willow says gently, “I’ll keep looking, see if I can find a way to return Dernera’s gift without getting righteously smited in the process, but if I can’t…”

Faith really doesn’t want to hear the end of this sentence.

“Maybe it’ll work out?” Willow suggests. “You deserve to be happy, Faith.”

She’s not so sure Willow would be saying that if she really understood what Faith’s deepest wish is, but Faith appreciates the sentiment. “Thanks,” she says, standing up from the couch. “Uhh, let me know if you need help with research stuff?”

“Sure,” Willow says, smiling. “I will.”

XXXXX

The sound of running feet and giggling in the hallway wakes her up, and Faith cracks her eyes open in irritation. The clock on the nightstand alerts her to the fact that it’s not yet 8AM, an absurd time for any working slayer to be up. The totem is in the same spot it was when she woke up yesterday, in spite of the fact that she left it in Willow’s office the night before. With a deep sigh, Faith closes her eyes again, resolved to go back to sleep for another hour or two before dealing with the totem.

That resolve lasts all of two minutes before she angrily shoves the covers down and leans over, plucking the totem from the nightstand. Flopping back against the pillow, she raises the small object, rotating it until she can see the carving. Instead of the cottage as she’s expecting, the carving has changed. It now shows an angel with beautifully detailed wings folded around her sides. Her face is blank, but long hair covers her shoulders. Behind her head is either a halo or the sun. “What the hell is this supposed to mean?” Faith asks it. When the totem gives no response, she drops it onto the empty side of the bed in aggravation and sits up.  Eight in the morning seems like a perfectly reasonable time to show up at Willow’s office.

To Faith’s lack of surprise, Willow is in fact in her office and she looks more bright eyed and bushy tailed than Faith has looked any day in her life.

“Faith!” Willow says, waving her in.

Skipping the pleasantries, Faith marches in and holds the totem out to her.

Willow accepts it, giving it a once over before she grimaces. “So, it hasn’t spontaneously resolved.”

“Were you expecting it to?”

Shrugging, Willow says, “Not really, no, but I did also try something. It was gone when I got here so I thought it might have worked.”

Faith shakes her head. “It was next to my bed again.”

A knock sounds on the door before Giles pokes his head in. “Willow, have you seen—oh, Faith, good, I was looking for you.”

“You found me,” Faith says.

“I need a favor,” Giles says plainly.

“Sure,” Faith says, surprised. “What’s up?”

“Buffy was due home today, but I had her re-routed to Inverness because I was planning to go up to the house today. I thought I’d pick her up en route, and then everyone else would be coming up tomorrow.”

Faith waits, a vague sensation of dread settling over her.

“I was going early because I promised to drop in on one of our newly identified slayers—try to ease her parents’ minds a little—but somehow I mixed up the dates and they aren’t expecting me until tomorrow.” Giles looks embarrassed, as if mixing up dates is one of the most terrible sins a person could conceivably commit. “I need you to go up tonight, meet Buffy at the airport, and pick up the keys from Davies.”

Trying to think of a way out of this, Faith says, “Can’t Xander—”

Giles is already shaking his head. “Xander’s accompanying Andrew on the train to Edinburgh.”

“What’s in Edinburgh?” Willow asks, sounding like she’s as in the dark as Faith.

“Evidently the new boyfriend he met online,” Giles says.

“Oh!” Willow nearly squeals in excitement. “Johan? They’re finally meeting?”

Ignoring her, Faith scoffs, “And Xander’s going with him to see his boyfriend?”

Giles lets out a tired sounding sigh. “Andrew’s afraid of traveling alone, it seems. Xander should be back this evening, but Buffy’s flight will be in at 5:45.”

Shit, Faith thinks. Still, there’s gotta be someone else who can go. “You don’t wanna get a jump start on the Christmas cheer?” Faith asks Willow, trying not to sound desperate. 

“Well, being Jewish, not usually, no,” Willow says dryly. 

“You and Kenn could get up there early, stake your claim on the best room before the rest of us,” Faith cajoles. 

“I’ve actually got a few meetings this afternoon,” Willow says. 

Seemingly out of options, Faith reluctantly looks back at Giles who is waiting expectantly. “Guess I’ll be meeting B then.”

“Wonderful!” Giles says, clapping his hands together. “Come by my office when you’re all packed, and I’ll give you the address.”

“Great,” Faith says, not bothering to fake enthusiasm. 

Giles peers at her a little more closely. “I appreciate you going up early,” he says, picking up on her obvious displeasure. “The rest of us should be there by late afternoon tomorrow.” 

Faith gives him a nod, turning back to Willow when Giles takes his leave. 

“So what do you think the angel means?” Willow asks, already back to studying the totem. 

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Dawnie if she can help me with research.”

“No!” Faith says immediately. She can tell her tone was too forceful by Willow’s taken aback face. “I mean… Let’s just keep this between us.”

“Okay,” Willow says, but she has her thinking face on. 

Faith suddenly wants to get out of this office very badly. “I should go pack,” she says, starting for the door. She doesn’t bother to take the totem. Dollars to donuts that thing’ll find its way back to her by tomorrow. 

“Faith,” Willow says. Something in her voice is soft and gentle, and Faith immediately hates it. 

“Yeah?” She tries to sound upbeat. 

“It seems like the stars kind of aligned for you to be the one to meet Buffy tonight.”

Faith shrugs, not knowing what to say. 

“And you don’t want me to tell anyone else about the totem,” Willow adds. “The thing you want, is it—“

“Red,” Faith cuts in, “I don’t want to—I can’t talk about this.”

“Okay,” Willow relents, but she gets up from her desk with a worried expression on her face. “You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know, if this is about someone in particular… I still stand by what I said. You deserve to be happy.”

Faith fidgets, deeply uncomfortable with this conversation. 

“So does she,” Willow adds softly. Then she takes a step back. “I’ll keep working on it; don’t worry.”

XXXXX

Faith lingers along the back wall of baggage claim, out of the hustle and bustle. The small space is filled with distracted people pushing mountainous luggage carts, families forming human chains as they rush to their carousels, and, for some reason, an entire children’s choir who seem intent on crowding into the same space she’s occupying. Adding to the chaos, maintenance men are doing something in the ceiling and have cordoned off a large chunk of the vestibule for their operations. Faith’s facing the escalator directly, just in case Buffy hasn’t gotten Giles’s message about the change of plans. In the parking garage, she’s left the small SUV Giles had loaned her for the drive, her suitcase of meager belongings tucked in the trunk beside a smaller bag that Dawn had packed, containing what she referred to as essentials for Buffy. Faith hadn’t asked for further detail. What she knows she definitely does not have in the car is Dernera’s totem.

She’s spent most of the car ride up here fervently wishing that Willow will find some way of deactivating this totem, spell, whatever it is. If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s definitely Willow, so she’s trying to hold out hope. If she can’t though… it becomes a question of what Faith should do next.

It’s been nine years since she met Buffy, eight and a half since everything went to shit, and almost five since they’ve been back on good, if somewhat rocky, terms. In all that time, Faith doesn’t think a day’s gone by, coma included, when she didn’t think of Buffy at least once. In the beginning, she’d thought the two of them would be thick as thieves. It wasn’t like she had a lot of competition in the only other slayer in the world role. By the time they were enemies, things had gotten more complicated. Buffy drove her absolutely insane with the whole goody two-shoes thing, and Faith spent half her time thinking of interesting ways to torture her. The other half of her time, she imagined Buffy finally ready to admit that something was boiling between them. Buffy was the star of her darkest fantasies and her sweetest dreams, all the way up until she slammed Faith’s own knife into her gut and put an end to it.

Later, when Faith had decided on the path she wanted for her life, Buffy became the compass that kept her moving on the straight and narrow. She wrote Buffy letter after letter. She never sent a single one, but her one-sided correspondence with Buffy gave her something to keep her mind busy. Going back to Sunnydale… facing the real Buffy again… that was hard. Ultimately though, it was good. The hatchet was buried between them, and Faith’s mostly contented herself with that. Has she wished for more? Yeah. But actually putting herself out there? Making a move on Buffy? All she can expect out of that is a resounding rejection. That’s the very last thing she needs in her life.

So really, the sensible thing to do is just let the clock run out, ignoring Dernera’s little toy each morning. If she does that, the door will close on this forever, but the chances that the door was ever going to really open are so infinitesimal that nothing will really change. In a way, won’t that be freeing? She won’t have to wonder about that little one in a billion chance that Buffy could ever have feelings for her. Faith can move on, finally.

It’s the smart play. So why is there a little voice in her head asking what if? What if she tries? What if it works? What if she wakes up on Christmas morning and Buffy’s really with her, the way she’s always wanted? Isn’t that a chance worth taking, even if she crashes and burns on the way?

The feeling of a small foot stamping on hers yanks Faith into the present. Without so much as an apology, the kid who practically maimed her keeps running. The children’s choir has migrated into two groups, one on either side of the room. To Faith’s dismay, they begin singing softly amongst themselves. It’s relatively disorganized, and the adults with them seem distracted, but people getting off the escalator seem to enjoy it, smiling at the kids as they pass through.

Faith’s never been much for children, or hymns for that matter, and she glances impatiently toward the top of the escalator, spotting blond hair amidst a sea of businessmen wearing suits. She squints, leaning a little left to confirm, and yes, it’s Buffy, a backpack tucked over her shoulder, coat draped over her arm. Suddenly, the lights dim overhead, and one much brighter light goes on at the top of the escalator, backlighting Buffy perfectly. Only her silhouette is visible.

At the same time, the entire children’s choir begins singing louder in unison,

“A thrill of hope…

The weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks

a new and glorious morn...”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Faith mutters to herself, as the spotlight seems to be following Buffy down the escalator somehow.

The kid closest to Faith takes a step away from her compatriots and begins laying it on really thick. “Fall on your knees,” she sings passionately. “Oh hear the angel voices!”

Buffy clears the bottom of the escalator, stepping into the sea of children and smiling in amused confusion. She’s just gotten off a long flight, and by all rights she should look exhausted, but instead her hair’s perfectly coiffed and she looks well rested.

“Oh, niiiiiiiiight diviiiiiiiiine,” the little girl continues, and Faith determinedly steps around her, meeting Buffy a few feet from the escalator.

“This is… a lot,” Buffy says, smiling at the kids, then meeting Faith’s eyes. “Hi.”

Her greeting smile is bright enough to make Faith’s throat feel tight. Fuck, Faith thinks. For a moment, she forgets how to speak and she has to swallow before she can convince her tongue to move. “Hi,” Faith says, hoping she sounds less froggy to Buffy. “Uhh, please tell me your bag’s going to come out way at the other end of baggage claim.”

Buffy smirks, and Faith mentally congratulates herself for apparently not sounding super weird. “Bag claim 1,” Buffy says. “It’s your lucky day.”

Depends on how you look at it, Faith thinks, but she cocks her head in the direction of the numbered bag claims and says, “Lead the way.”

Once she’s got Buffy’s bag shoved into the trunk and has turned the heater on full blast, she says, “Sorry G couldn’t make it.”

Buffy shrugs, buckling her seatbelt. “No big deal,” she says. She smiles mischievously at Faith. “Now we can pick the best rooms before everyone else gets there.”

“Screwing the family out of the best accommodations,” Faith says, reversing out of the parking spot, “now that’s the Christmas spirit.”

“Hey,” Buffy whines, “I just got off a really long flight. I deserve the best room. I’m thinking, like, a giant bed with a down comforter and a soaker tub next to the window so I can take in the view while I relax all of my very sore muscles. I’m getting too old for planes now, I swear.”

Faith’s imagination is a little too vivid for her own good, and she concentrates very hard to get them out of the parking garage without smashing into anything. “Yeah,” she says sympathetically. “The ripe old age of 27 will do that to you.”

“I’m 26!” Buddy says in mock horror. “I’m 26 for another month.” 

Snorting, Faith asks, “So where were you anyway?”

“Nepal,” Buffy says. “We found a new girl. She’s young, and the parents are really anxious. Giles thought they could use an in person visit.”

“Ah,” Faith says, navigating them onto the motorway. “Did you smooth it over?”

“I think so,” Buffy says. “They said Khavia could come to the castle in a few weeks. She seemed stoked about it.” She asks, “What about you? Haven’t seen you in a few months. How have you been?”

“Oh,” Faith says, “fine. Been traveling more. Figured I should see some historical shit before a vamp gets me or we destroy the planet the rest of the way.”

“That’s what I love about you, Faith,” Buffy says dryly. “Your positive outlook on life never fails.”

Faith’s heart stutters for a second in her chest, and she sends a wave of supreme irritation toward Dernera, wherever she may be. “I’m a realist,” Faith says. “Look at beautiful shit while you can because tomorrow we might get hit by an asteroid.”

Buffy laughs. “All right,” she agrees. “That’s not a bad way of looking at it. Life’s short. You gotta take what you want.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years, B,” Faith points out, stealing a look at her. “Want, take, have.”

“All well and good until we got arrested,” Buffy says lightly.

“That was a slight miscalculation there, yeah.”

 They share a wry smile.

“So,” Buffy says after a moment, “do we suspect evil is afoot here? I mean, Giles magically gets some country house for a few weeks? That’s weird.”

It is, but there’s no way Faith’s gonna tell Buffy that. She shrugs. “He said it was one of his old council buddies. I don’t think it’s an evil situation, but then again the guy was in the council.”

“So the chances are like 50/50,” Buffy surmises. “Okay, bubble bath first, then we kill whatever unspeakable horror awaits us this time.”

“Priorities,” Faith says.

“You know it.”

The house is less than an hour from Inverness and is practically in the Cairngorms as far as Faith can tell. The folded up directions Willow printed rest between her seat and the console, but she doesn’t really need them. There’s one main motorway, and they’re on it. Buffy fell asleep almost as soon as they hit the road, so Faith’s made do with Christmas carols on the radio and what she can see of the scenery in the darkness. When the house comes into view, she reaches over and grasps Buffy’s sleeve, shaking slightly. She’s gonna wanna see this. “B,” she says, “wake up. We’re here.”

The house stands just down the driveway, cheery yellow light glowing from behind the first floor windows. It’s two stories, with a well-maintained gray stone façade and lead-paned windows. Two peaks frame the second story windows, with a dusting of snow covering most of the roof. The entire thing leaves the impression of a storybook cottage, and in spite of herself, Faith is a little charmed.

“Wow,” Buffy says, sitting up and taking in the view. “This looks amazing.”

A small car is parked in the driveway. It looks like Davies is waiting for them. 

Davies turns out to be a short man with a bright smile and at least three scarves of varying lengths wrapped around his neck. He’s wearing thick soled boots and still comes up an inch short of Faith’s height. “I’m so glad someone’ll be able to make use of the house,” he tells them, ushering them and their bags inside eagerly.

He keeps talking enthusiastically as Buffy and Faith peer around the visible rooms in curiosity. “This was my family’s winter getaway, but now with the kids all grown… we just don’t get as much time here as we used to. We’re spending Christmas with our Fiona in Harrogate this year.” He looks at the two of them and then clasps his hands together. “And now I’m going on and you just want to get settled in after your trip!”

“No, it’s—” Buffy tries to politely interject, but Davies is already behind Faith, all but pushing her into the living room proper. He gives them a whirlwind tour: living room, kitchen and dining, main floor bath. They dash upstairs to see three bedrooms, two with queen beds and the third with a double. Another bathroom rounds out the floor.

“Is that all the bedrooms?” Faith asks, mentally counting off. They’re got three more people in need of beds.

“Oh no,” Davies says, leading them back downstairs. A small bedroom is tucked at the back of the house with another double bed. Davies leads them to the opposite side of the house, opening a closed door with a flourish. “The master!” He says grandly, sweeping his arm through the large room. There’s a King bed here, covered in a beautiful red and white quilt. Extra blankets are heaped at the end of the bed.

“The view here is really spectacular in the morning,” Davies says, walking across the room to another door. “Here’s the bath.”

Faith peeks her head through the door long enough to spot the soaker tub, then steps back out. This one’ll be Buffy’s then.

“You’re welcome to use anything in the house,” Davies says, walking back toward the living room. “We should have ice skates, skis, snowshoes somewhere… There’s plenty of wood for the stove if you need it, and of course”—he gestures toward the exterior—“you know where to get more. The axe is in the boot room along with some other tools. Kitchen’s fully stocked except for food.” He pauses, suddenly looking dismayed. “Did you bring food?”

“Uhh,” Faith says, “we figured we’d just drive back over to town to get some stuff.”

Davies consults his watch. “Better make it soon.”

“We will.”

He nods, then looks between them. “Buffy,” he says, “Faith. It was lovely to meet you both. Tell Giles I’m sorry to have missed him.”

“We will,” Buffy promises, “and thank you again, so much, for letting us stay.”

“Anytime,” Davies says sincerely. “Anything else you need from me before I’m off?”

Buffy shakes her head. Faith says, “I think we’re good.”

“Best to get to the store soon,” he reminds them. “Keys are on the table along with my cell phone number. Give me a ring if anything comes up.” Then he’s out the door in a flurry of scarves and a puffy coat. A moment later his headlights illuminate the windows in the front door, then he’s gone.

“Interesting guy,” Buffy says dryly. “You get any evil vibes?”

“Nah,” Faith says. “Gay though.”

“I thought he had a wife.”

“And she probably also realizes he’s gay,” Faith says, reaching in her pocket for the car keys. “Should we hit the store?”

Buffy glances longingly at the door to the master. “Think it could wait until morning? That bathtub is calling my name.”

“Answer the call,” Faith says, trying very hard not to focus on the mental images of Buffy in the bath that her brain is conjuring up. “I’ll go so we have some stuff for breakfast at least.”

“You sure you don’t mind?” Buffy asks.

Faith nods. “Yeah,” she says. “Go for it.”

“Thank you,” Buffy says.

“Yup.” Faith turns to go.

“Faith?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you get cocoa if they have it?” Buffy asks.

“Sure.”

Buffy’s smile is dazzling. “Thanks!” She says, before disappearing with her bags toward the master suite.

It’s not that far of a ride to town. Faith loads up on some basics, plus the requested hot cocoa and a few other extravagances that strike her fancy, before presenting her items and Giles’s credit card to the cashier. It’s apparently two minutes before closing, and this earns her a displeased look.

When she gets back to the house, she manages to gather all the grocery bags in her arms and make her way into the house unassisted. There’s no sign of Buffy as she puts things away. Faith makes her way to the bedroom door, intending to knock and see if Buffy wants to watch a movie or something. It’s still pretty early. The door is slightly ajar, and Faith can see there’s no need to knock. Buffy’s curled on her side, the blanket around her shoulders, wet hair spread across the pillow behind her. She’s fast asleep.

Closing the door as quietly as she can, Faith shuffles back to the living room. Maybe this trip won’t be so bad. Today was pretty low key. Everyone else should be here by tomorrow night, and that’ll take some of the pressure off the two of them to interact so much. She’ll celebrate Christmas with the gang and ride out this spell thing. Then everything’ll be back to normal. 

XXXXX

Rather than the smell of delicious food or the sound of running baby slayers, it’s the lack of noise that wakes her up today. She’s curled on the couch, still under the blanket she tossed over herself last night. There’s dead silence in the house, and Faith sits up, looking around the room suspiciously. Nothing seems to be amiss, but when she tries to turn on the lamp beside the couch and it clicks fruitlessly, she gets it. The power’s out. Her cell phone is on the table, still plugged in from last night. She checks it now, sighing in relief when she sees it’s fully charged.

The sight of the totem sitting beside it is anything but welcome. Feeling a bolt of irritation go through her, she picks it up and turns its face toward her. This morning it’s an elaborately carved snowflake. Cutting her eyes toward the window, she sees fresh snow is falling atop the ground layer that was already present. “Not very original,” she says to the cube, then drops it on the floor.

Tossing the blankets off, she makes her way to the bathroom, washing her face with cold water and brushing her teeth. By the time she’s pulled on sweatpants, thick socks, and a t-shirt and fleece pullover, it’s noticeably a bit cooler in the living room. Faith grimaces, retrieving her cell phone and stuffing it in her pocket. There’s the wood stove at least. The house won’t be totally freezing if the power’s out for a while. On her way across the room, she kicks the totem under the couch.

The door to the master suite is still closed, and Faith tries to move quietly. Fortunately, there’s wood stacked inside the house, and all Faith has to do is remember the instructions Davies had briefly given them last night when showing them the house. In less than a half hour, she has a nice fire burning and she turns her attention to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, Faith surveys the supply of groceries she picked up last night. Pulling items out, she piles them on the countertop, then searches the cupboards until she finds a bowl and some pans.

“Is it just me, or did we used to have heat?” Buffy asks by way of greeting, shuffling into the kitchen in a huge sweatshirt, flannel pajama pants and slippered feet.  Her shoulders are hunched as if she’s trying to burrow more deeply into the sweatshirt.

“That sounds vaguely familiar,” Faith says. “I got a fire going. It should get a little warmer soon.” She gestures at the food she’s pulled out. “Omelet?”

“Yes, please,” Buffy says enthusiastically. “How can I help?”

“Wanna chop some veggies?”

Buffy nods, squeezing past her to the knife block. Just as she’s choosing a knife, a cheery tune begins blaring from inside her sweatshirt. As Buffy fumbles for her pocket, Faith listens a little closer, smirking to herself when she realizes the ring tone is actually “Last Christmas” by Wham!.

Managing to get the phone free, Buffy hits the accept option and presses it to her ear. “Hello?”

Faith shuffles by her, opening drawers until she finds a cutting board. 

“Oh no,” she hears Buffy say. “Don’t worry, you’re not missing much. The power went out and there’s no heat.”

Cutting board in hand, Faith squeezes between Buffy and the kitchen island, close enough to hear Willow’s voice on the other end of the line. 

“Sounds like you and Faith will need to snuggle up for warmth. They do say skin to skin contact is best…”

“Willow!” Buffy says, shooting an embarrassed glance in Faith’s direction.

Faith pretends she heard nothing, even though inside she’s mentally cursing Willow up and down. It’s bad enough she knows that Faith has feelings for Buffy, but now she’s trying to what… be Faith’s long distance wingman? 

“No,” Buffy is saying now, “Faith got a fire going for us. We’ll be fine until it comes back up. Did they say—” She breaks off, listening again. “Okay,” she says. “Yeah, we will. That’s not what I said! Ugh, you’re—yeah, okay. Yes. You too, bye.”

Faith doesn’t look over as Buffy hangs up the phone, instead sorting through the vegetables she bought and setting some on the cutting board.

“So,” Buffy says, with what sounds like forced cheer, “in addition to our new warmth problem, apparently we’re under a blizzard warning for the whole day. They’re not going to be able to drive in.” She retrieves a chef’s knife from the block and sets her sights on a bell pepper.

Well, the fucking snowflake makes more sense now. “At least I got cookies last night. They’ll sustain us through these trying times.”

Buffy rolls her eyes and begins methodically chopping a bell pepper. “Did you get more actual food? I don’t think pizza delivery is making it through this.” She gestures with the knife toward the window, where the snow has started coming down harder.

“Some,” Faith says, cracking an egg into the large bowl. “We’re all right for today and probably tomorrow, at least.”

Between the two of them, they make quick work of omelet prep. Buffy retrieves plates and forks while Faith takes the bowl and pan to the wood stove. She’s never cooked anything on one of these, but apparently it’s not that hard (or eggs aren’t that easy to screw up), and soon she’s dishing them each a huge, messy omelet.

Buffy groans out something that sounds like a compliment in between bites. She looks up about half way through her food and smiles sheepishly. “Jet lag always messes with my stomach,” she says. “I’ll be starving for like three days straight.”

“I can make more,” Faith offers.

“Nah, I’ll be good,” Buffy says in between bites. “Thanks though.”

After breakfast, they scour the house for things to do without electricity. They play Candyland, then several hands of rummy. Faith heats up water on the wood stove and washes the breakfast dishes while Buffy makes them both cocoa. Eventually, they turn to the small bookshelf in the master bedroom. It seems to be entirely filled with romance novels, and Faith reluctantly chooses one from the shelf. Back on the couch, they take up opposite sides and start their respective books.

Faith’s never been much of a reader, and this is definitely not the kind of book that’s going to hold her attention. She keeps the book open on her lap, but her attention wanders, eventually settling surreptitiously on Buffy. Buffy doesn’t seem to be having any issues getting into her book. She’s hunkered under the blanket on her side, only her face and hands poking free of the fabric, occasionally turning the page as she goes. It’s incredibly cute.

Their predicament isn’t unromantic: tucked away in a cozy winter escape, huddled under a blanket in front of a wood stove. Buffy’s tucked against the back of the couch and Faith’s got the outside, their legs pressed companionably together, and that does nothing to stop her mind from galloping toward the idea that she should embrace this whole thing. They’re not having a bad time together, in fact it’s almost comfortable. Maybe it’s not the craziest idea, her and Buffy.

XXXXX

The fire has heated the room up pretty nicely, but Buffy’s still happy snuggled under the large fleece blanket. On the opposite side of the couch, Faith’s breathing evenly, having fallen asleep some time ago. Buffy hasn’t taken a nap; she’s been focused on the book she started this morning. Strange Tides is open in her hands, resting on her chest as she reads. Buffy’s never read the romance genre before, so she has no idea if this book is par for the course or especially out there, but the story is… unique. In this chapter, the main character is learning in vivid detail what her merman boyfriend can do with his tongue. He’s not technically a merman at present, having been afflicted by a spell that makes him a human man by day. It’s absurd and cringeworthy, and she can’t put it down.

The protagonist, Cassidy, is just reaching new crests when Faith speaks, startling Buffy. “Huh?” Buffy asks, quickly looking up.

“I asked if you’re okay,” Faith says, still sounding half asleep. “Your face is a little red. Is it getting too warm in here?”

Feeling her face getting even warmer, now with embarrassment, Buffy shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I don’t think so. Maybe I need to get out from under the blanket for a bit.” To prove her statement, Buffy pushes the covers down and maneuvers one of her feet free.

Faith looks skeptical, but she nods. Picking her own book back up, she opens it and begins to read.

Buffy makes it as far as Cassidy suggesting she show Nafion exactly what his new body can do, when Faith asks, “So, you a big Wham! fan?”

“Huh?” Buffy asks again, looking up from the book.

Faith gestures at her cell phone where it sits on the coffee table. “The ring tone.”

“Oh!” Buffy says. “I guess I just like the song.”

“Interesting choice,” Faith says, not appearing interested in getting back to her book.

“Is it?”

“Well, it’s a Christmas themed breakup song,” Faith says, pointing out the obvious. “It’s catchy, but it’s not exactly, like, “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town.””

Buffy snorts softly. “I guess not,” she agrees. “I might have been feeling a little bitter when I set that.”

“I’m sensing a story.”

Buffy closes her book with her index finger marking the page. “The Devil In Disguise not doing it for you?” She asks dryly, looking at the book Faith’s let fall closed.

Faith shrugs. “What can I say, torrid heterosexual passion isn’t really my jam.”

That’s not totally new information, but Buffy had thought Faith was probably bi. “Like, at all?” She asks, immediately feeling her face burn in mortification. Why did I ask her that?

Faith just smiles.

Right. Okay then. What did she ask me again? “It’s not much of a story,” Buffy says after a moment, when she remembers what they were talking about. “I was seeing this guy for a while. Not exactly major sparkage, but I liked him well enough.” She frowns. “He said I was ‘married to my work,’ and dumped me a few months ago.”

“Sounds like an idiot,” Faith offers.

“Maybe.”

“Plus your work is more of an inescapable sacred calling to save the world from unfathomable horrors. You kinda have to be married to it.”

“Tell that to Jeremy,” Buffy mutters. “Anyway, now he’s on Facebook talking about how he’s doing Christmas in Amsterdam with his new girlfriend, and I’ve got Wham!.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Faith says kindly. “You’ve also got half a couch in a frozen house in the middle of nowhere. And cookies.”

“Comforting,” Buffy sighs. “What about you? You’ve gotta be seeing somebody, right?”

Faith looks surprised. “Why do I have to be?”

“I mean,” Buffy says, suddenly feeling awkward, “you’re, umm… you’ve never had trouble finding, uh, dates.”

Faith’s face goes flat. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Nice going, Buffy. “I didn’t mean that like…” She trails off, wincing. “Let me try that again,” she says. “You’ve wisely chosen not to live in a castle filled with teenage girls you’re in charge of. You’re fun, you’re outgoing, and you’re gorgeous. You must have people lining up to go out with you.”

Appearing slightly mollified, Faith says, “I date. Nothing serious though.”

“How come?” Buffy asks, genuinely curious. “Not interested?”

Faith shrugs, dropping her eyes to the blanket. “Nah,” she says, “just haven’t met anyone I could really see myself with in a long time.”

“You’ll meet someone,” Buffy says.

Faith looks back up at her. “Thanks,” she says, “but I don’t know. I’m kind of married to the job too.”

“So you’re saying we’re destined to be alone?” Buffy asks.

Faith smiles, and one of her dimples makes an appearance. Buffy’s suddenly acutely aware of their legs pressed together under the blanket, and Willow’s words from earlier run through her mind. Nope, Buffy tells her brain sternly, do not think about naked cuddling with Faith. This is all that stupid merman book’s fault, making her think about weird, sexy stuff, while they’re smushed together like this. 

“Maybe,” Faith says, not sounding overly serious. “Jeremy doesn’t need to know that though.” She looks around the room. “This place is romantic as shit if you don’t know it’s colder than a witch’s tit. We’ll take a picture of you looking all alluring in the firelight.” She gives Buffy an example of what Buffy assumes is supposed to be an alluring look. It’s definitely something, if the sudden closing of Buffy’s throat means anything. “Post it and let him eat his heart out.”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says, swallowing. Her hands come up to her hair. “I didn’t exactly dress to allure here.”

“You don’t need to,” Faith says. “You look amazing. Plus, you want to look like you’re on a romantic getaway, not a photoshoot.”

“Okay,” Buffy says, adequately talked into it, “but if I think the picture looks terrible, I’m not posting it.”

“Sure,” Faith says, obviously blowing her concerns off. “Okay,” she says, pulling the blanket back with a flourish and getting up, “let’s do this.”

Cool air steals under the blanket, and Buffy pulls it back into place with a frown. Setting aside the book, she sits up, arranging herself so she’s cross legged on the couch, with the blanket over her lap.

Faith moves so she’s not blocking the firelight from Buffy’s face, picking up her phone as she goes. She looks at Buffy critically for a second.

Raising a self conscious hand to her hair, Buffy asks, “What?”

Faith comes closer, leaning over her. She tucks a bit of Buffy’s hair behind her ear then stands back up. “Perfect,” she says.

Buffy’s face feels warm, and she can no longer blame Cassidy and her aquatic lover. Her eyes follow Faith as she crouches down on the opposite side of the coffee table.

Remembering what Faith said about looking alluring, Buffy rearranges herself slightly, propping one elbow on the back of the couch so she can rest her head on her palm.

Holding her phone aloft, Faith says, “Okay, try to look like the person taking your picture is far superior to Jeremy in bed.”

Buffy laughs, surprised, and her gaze drops to her lap. If Faith’s intention is to make Buffy think about sleeping with her, she’s succeeding.

“Nice,” Faith says. “Got a good one, I think. Look at me again?”

She means to look at the camera, but she catches Faith’s eye instead. She’s not sure what Faith sees on her face, but whatever it is, Faith’s momentarily quiet. She swallows hard and looks at the phone. She snaps another picture and then stands up, holding her phone out to Buffy as she takes a seat on the couch again.

Thumbing through the photos, Buffy thinks she does look pretty good. Her hair is rumpled, her cheeks a bit pink, and the firelight is casting a warm glow on the room around her. She looks like she very well could have just found out how good Faith is in bed. If only that were true…

Snap out of it, Buffy, she tells herself. Faith’s just being supportive. She’s not sending out let’s go at it on the couch vibes. That’s just Buffy’s overactive imagination talking. Her imagination and the teeny, tiny crush on Faith that she’s been harboring for what feels like an eternity. But honestly, it’s just a little crush, like miniscule, totally slight. It’s not usually a problem, when Faith isn’t telling her to pretend like the two of them have done it. 

“Earth to B,” Faith prompts, and Buffy realizes she’s been staring at a photo for several seconds too long. “Good, right?”

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees before thumbing to the next photo. It’s the last one Faith took, and now that Buffy sees the look on her face, she sees what gave Faith pause. Buffy’s chin is tilted down, her eyes wide and soft in the orange glow. There’s a slight smile on her lips, and she’s looking past the camera at Faith. Buffy’s pretty sure she nailed Faith’s instructions. “I like this one,” she says, hastily scrolling back to the first one where she’s laughing with her eyes closed.

“That’s a good one,” Faith says, craning her head to look over. “You look happy.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees. She glances over at Faith. “I am,” she says. “We’re living like pioneer women, but I’m having fun.”

“Pretty sure pioneer women didn’t have the high quality entertainment we have,” Faith says, inclining her head toward Buffy’s book.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy says, “You know what I mean.”

Faith nods. “Yeah,” she says. “I am too.” She looks over at the woodstove. “Grilled cheese sound good for dinner?”

XXXXX

The power comes back on overnight, and by the time Faith wakes up, it feels like she’s roasting. The fleece blanket is tucked around her, and Buffy’s warm legs are spooned behind hers. Faith gingerly peels the blanket back, careful to leave it over Buffy, and relishes the cooler air for a minute. From where she lies, she can see out the front windows. The trees are coated white, drooping under the weight of heavy snowfall.  She foresees an unfortunate amount of shoveling in her future.

With a sigh, she directs her attention to the coffee table, scanning past their abandoned mugs and empty packages of cookies for her cell phone. Instead of the phone, she spies the smooth surface of a small wood block. Reaching over, she snatches it up, frowning as she rotates it. Today’s adornment is a pointed leafed plant with distinctive small berries. There’s no color to the wood, but Faith can easily guess what it is even without the berries being red: holly.

At the opposite end of the couch, Buffy stirs. Faith closes her hand around the totem and shoves it between the couch cushions on her end.

“Morning,” Buffy yawns, giving her a sleepy smile. “We have heat again?”

“We do,” Faith confirms, “which is good because neither of us got up to put more wood in the stove.”

“Oops,” Buffy offers, stretching her arms overhead. “I wonder how much snow we got.”

Thinking about the carving she just saw, Faith says, “There’s one way to find out.”

“You wanna go outside?” Buffy looks at the window in dismay.

“Yeah,” Faith says. “I was thinking this place could use a Christmas tree.”

Instantly, Buffy perks up. “I can be ready in ten minutes!”

XXXXX

Fresh powder crunches under their feet as they walk, Buffy slightly in the lead, and Faith following her. She’d had no trouble locating the axe in the boot room, and she carries it now, loosely in hand. The house is surrounded by trees, but it seems only polite to walk a ways into the forest and not spoil the view from the house. Faith assumes that’s what they’re doing for about the first ten minutes or so, then she starts to wonder. Buffy’s scanning around them in deep concentration as they move, her mouth in a small frown. 

“Any particular size you were thinking?” Faith ventures. 

Buffy holds a hand above her head. “At least here.”

“We passed a couple good looking ones around that high.”

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Buffy says cheerfully, continuing to stomp through the snow. 

Faith follows her, occasionally pointing out some very serviceable options. Each one gets vetoed. After a while, she’s sure they’re going in circles. She’s about to say something when Buffy says, “Oooh.”

Brilliant red berries peek from the snow-covered branches of a small holly tree.

“We should bring some back!” Buffy says. “It’s supposed to be good luck.”

The last thing that was supposed to be good luck turned out to be some sort of washed up higher power’s calling card, so Faith’s not exactly eager to try her luck with this, but Buffy’s already headed for the tree.

Faith catches up to her as she’s reaching for a branch. From the corner of her eye, she sees movement in their vicinity.

Without thinking it through, she grabs the back of Buffy’s jacket. She means to tug her to a stop, but she catches Buffy off guard and sends her stumbling backward. She catches her, squeezing her waist tightly to cut off Buffy’s protest.

“Look,” Faith whispers, her voice barely audibly beside Buffy’s ear.

It takes a second, but then Buffy sees it too. In the woods ahead and to the right of them, there’s a tall animal with a beautiful brown and white body and wide, branching antlers. It’s standing stock still, watching the two of them. Buffy subtly shifts her weight, securing her footing in the snow, but not moving away from Faith’s hold.

“Is that…?” Buffy murmurs.

“I think so.”

The reindeer’s tail flicks in sudden agitation, but it doesn’t move. Its big brown eye remains fixed on them. It doesn’t seem afraid, but merely cautious.

Buffy’s gloved hand finds Faith’s and squeezes.

Faith risks a glance at her and sees a soft smile on Buffy’s face, her eyes wide with wonder. Faith almost forgets about the reindeer now that she’s turned her attention to Buffy. Her arms are still around Buffy’s waist, and Buffy’s back is brushing Faith’s chest. Up close, Buffy smells like the peppermint candy she’s been eating throughout their walk and the clean scent of her shampoo.

They’re so close. Faith’s practically hugging her waist and she really doesn’t want to let go.

Turning her cheek slightly toward Faith, Buffy whispers, “Isn’t it beautiful?” It may be Faith’s imagination, but she’s pretty sure Buffy’s head tilts a little further back, so it’s resting against Faith’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Faith agrees, wondering if her voice sounds hoarse to Buffy too. “Gorgeous.”

“I’m afraid to move,” Buffy says softly. “I don’t want to scare her.”

As far as Faith’s concerned, they can stay like this the rest of the day, or at least until they get hypothermia. Buffy’s still holding her hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Faith’s in no hurry for her to stop. It’s the reindeer who looks away first, finally starting a leisurely stroll away from them.

They watch until she’s out of sight, and then Buffy takes a small step away, squeezing Faith’s hand before she lets go. “That was amazing,” she says at normal volume. Her face spreads into a grin. With her cheeks and nose rosy from the cold, she looks adorable.

Faith finds herself smiling back. “It was pretty cool.”

“Pretty cool?” Buffy repeats incredulously. “We just saw a wild freaking reindeer! On our way to chop down a Christmas tree! After we found a holly tree!”

“Pretty sure that stuff just grows here,” Faith points out.

Buffy puts her hands on her hips.

“Okay, fine, it was wicked awesome,” Faith admits. “Now, can we please pick a tree before we run into a less friendly wild animal?”

Buffy takes a quick look around, points at one to their left and says, “This one.”

“That one.”

“Mhmm.”

“Why that one?”

Buffy shrugs, “You just have to feel it in your heart.” She gives Faith a smug look. “It’s the magic of Christmas.”

“All right then,” Faith says, gripping the axe handle tighter. “Let’s chop down some magic.”

XXXXX

By the time they haul the tree back and get it standing upright, Faith’s feeling the magic a bit herself. They find a tree stand and a dusty box of what could charitably be called vintage ornaments tucked in a hall closet. With the radio piping out festive tunes and Buffy clearly delighted, Faith can’t help but get in the spirit with her. Not even the ordeal of untangling strands of lights and getting them on the tree dampens it. It doesn’t hurt that Buffy looks adorable with her oversize sweater and the bottom of her jeans tucked into giant, fuzzy slippers, her cheeks still flushed from the effort of carrying the tree back and maneuvering it inside. 

“I can’t decide if these are cute or creepy,” Buffy says, plucking a porcelain bird ornament from the box and carefully placing it on the tree.

“Cute for the 50s, creepy as hell for today,” Faith says, pulling out several strangely colored Christmas balls and studying them. “This stuff has to be from when Davies was a kid.”

“We had a couple ornaments like this from when my mom was little,” Buffy says wistfully, taking one of the glass balls from Faith and searching for a good branch for it. “Dawn has total butterfingers so Mom always let me put them on the tree.”

“Kind of amazing that you guys managed to keep any ornaments with how often demons visited you at home,” Faith says, unearthing a sharp-sided star. The thing looks like it’s probably made of some toxic material no longer used in consumer goods.

“Even Sunnydale had Christmas magic,” Buffy says with a shrug. 

“I remember,” Faith says, smiling slightly as she attaches the star to the tree. “Snow in SoCal.”

“I guess that was our last Christmas together,” Buffy says, “not that I was there for most of it.”

Faith feels Buffy’s eyes on her, but she busies herself with digging out a tattered looking angel tree topper. Its robes are a bit yellowed and the face could use some touching up. “Yeah, well, you were kinda busy with something important,” she says lightly.

“Yeah,” Buffy agrees, drifting closer, “but I was really glad you came, and then we didn’t even get to hang. Is that the topper?”

“Looks like it, ” Faith says, as Buffy stops beside her. “Definitely newer. Maybe manufactured in our lifetime even.” She holds the angel out. “You wanna do the honors?”

Buffy takes the angel, standing on her tiptoes to reach the topmost point of the tree. She can’t quite make it.

“I’m a little taller,” Faith offers, but Buffy shakes her head.

“I got it!”

After watching two more attempts, and the start of a pout on Buffy’s face, Faith moves around in front of her.

“What are you—” Buffy’s words cut off as Faith bends and easily lifts her, her arms folded across the back of Buffy’s thighs, Buffy’s stomach at Faith’s shoulder.

Leaning perilously far into the tree, Faith gets Buffy close enough to reach the top of the tree. After a minute of fiddling, Buffy says, “Okay, it’s good!” She grasps Faith’s shoulders.

Faith loosens her hold, letting Buffy slip back to her feet. It has the unfortunate side effect of making Buffy’s whole body slide down hers, and Faith wills her face not to flush.

Back on her feet, Buffy looks at her with a small smile. Is her face red too? Faith wonders, her hands lingering on Buffy’s waist.

“Thanks,” Buffy says, her voice sounding huskier than before. Her hands are still on Faith’s shoulders. She seems to catch herself then and takes a step back to survey her placement of the angel. “Cute,” she pronounces, heading for the back of the tree to plug the angel into the light strand.

Faith takes that opportunity to walk to the kitchen and pour herself a giant glass of water, downing half of it. This damn Christmas magic is making her act stupid.

She’s gone maybe two minutes before Buffy calls, “Are we taking a cocoa break?”

Faith takes another gulp of water, then calls back, “Yeah! You want some?”

“With extra marshmallows?”

“Pretty sure you ate the whole bag last night,” Faith yells back, knowing damn well that there’re plenty left.

Buffy appears in the doorway, looking outraged. “I did not!”

Faith opens the cupboard and pulls out the marshmallow bag, showing Buffy that it’s mostly full. “Must have been my cookies I’m thinking of.”

“I think you mean our cookies,” Buffy says sweetly. “Our couch, our blanket, our cookies. This is a family trip.”

Being included in the word ‘family’ momentarily gives her a warm and fuzzy feeling, but Faith doesn’t let it derail her. “Uh huh,” she says. “Does that mean we should save some for the rest of the family?”

“Nah,” Buffy says. “We endured a power outage, nearly froze to death, and were forced to read trashy romance novels. We deserve all the cookies.”

“Fair point,” Faith says. “Let’s hide the rest before they get here.”

“On it,” Buffy says, stepping around Faith to rifle through the cabinets.

XXXXX

The rest of the gang finally arrives well after dark. When they hear the crunch of tires on the drive, Buffy feels a momentary twinge of disappointment. She and Faith are on the couch, watching Jingle All the Way and slowly processing their respective food comas. The newly decorated tree is twinkling merrily, and Buffy’s managed to get her cold toes under Faith’s thigh without being swatted. She’s been enjoying this time with Faith and she almost wishes it could be just the two of them for a little while longer.

Faith reaches for the remote, hitting pause. “To be continued?” She asks. Her hand settles on Buffy’s ankle, over the blanket.

“Yeah,” Buffy says. Her stomach feels a little fluttery at Faith just barely touching her. After she held onto Faith a little too long earlier, she really needs to be more careful, so she gently extracts her feet from under the blanket and plasters on an enthusiastic smile. “I’ll see if they need help.”

Faith gestures to their empty dinner plates. “I’ll clean up.”

The front door bursts open as Buffy’s hopping on one foot, pulling her boot on her opposite foot.

“Bathroom?” Dawn pleads without greeting her.

Buffy points in the direction of the main floor bath, watching her sister nearly run through the house. “Hi to you too!”

“Gotta pee so bad!” Dawn shouts, before the door to the bathroom closes.

Picking up her coat, Buffy slides her arms into the sleeves and heads outside.

The others are getting out of a roomy SUV, Xander grabbing bags from the trunk.

“Buffy,” Giles puffs, looking chilly in just a sweater. “Happy Christmas.”

She hugs him quickly, giving him a squeeze. “Merry Christmas, Giles. How was the drive?”

“So many Christmas carols,” he says, sounding exhausted. “I hope Davies left some whiskey in the house.”

“I think you might be in luck,” Buffy says conspiratorially. She squeezes his arm and shoos him in the direction of the house. “I’ll help with the bags.”

Willow intercepts her next, abandoning Kennedy to share bellhop duties with Xander. “Hey!” She throws her arms around Buffy. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“It was the hardest week of my life,” Buffy agrees with a grin.

“Darn tootin’,” Willow says before she releases her. “How’s it going with Faith? I saw that picture you posted.” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down. “Looked pretty cozy.”

“Stop,” Buffy begs, glancing at Xander and Kennedy in alarm.

Willow waves off her nervousness.

“It’s been fine,” Buffy says. “Good, I mean.”

“Did you take my advice?”

Buffy might have been unsure what she meant if Willow weren’t grinning from ear to ear. “No,” she says severely.

“I’m just saying… she’s single; you’re single. She’s hot; you’re hot… if you guys happened to find yourself under the mistletoe…” Willow does a shoulder shimmy that’s made all the more ridiculous by the thick coat she’s wearing.

“Buffster!” Xander greets, heading toward them with three bags in his hands.

“Xand!” Buffy takes one of the bags and throws her free arm around his waist. “Merry Christmas!” Giving Willow one more severe look, she releases Xander and goes to grab another bag. “Hey, Ken.”

“Hey,” Kennedy says, giving her a bright smile. “This place is beautiful!”

“Totally,” Buffy agrees, leading the way inside. “Most of the bedrooms are on the second floor, if you wanna put your stuff down,” she says.

Faith’s handing Giles a glass of whiskey when they get back inside.

“I’ll put your bag upstairs, Giles,” Buffy says, and he gives her a grateful smile.

Of the three rooms upstairs, Willow and Kennedy hone in on the one furthest from the stairs, affording them a little bit of privacy. Buffy sets Giles’s bag in the room toward the front of the hallway, spying Xander in the remaining room.

When they troop downstairs, Dawn is headed for the downstairs bedroom with her suitcase in hand.

“I think Faith is staying in that room,” Giles points out from his position on the couch. “We’re short one bedroom. Someone will need to bunk up.”

Looking uncomfortable, Faith shrugs. “I didn’t have my stuff in there. It’s cool; I can take the couch.”

Buffy had been figuring that Dawn would crash in her room. They’re the obvious choice to share. Dawn’s frowning like she knows that too. Before her sister can say anything, Buffy looks at Faith and says, “You can share with me. The bed’s giant anyway.”

Dawn bounces on her heels. “Thank God!” She says, then turns to Faith. “She kicks. I’m sorry.”

“I do not!”

Faith looks like a deer in headlights. 

“Or Dawn and I can share, if you’d rather,” Buffy tells Faith, now having second thoughts. Maybe Faith doesn’t want to have to share with her. If the grin on Willow’s face is as transparent to Faith than it is to Buffy, maybe she thinks Buffy’s hitting on her. 

“No,” Faith says, her voice a bit too casual. “That’ll work. Thanks.”

As the group settles in, getting the full house tour and cooing appropriately over Faith and Buffy’s tree decorating skills, Buffy forgets to be worried about the eventual bed situation. It isn’t until later, when everyone’s had their fill of snacks and start drifting off to bed that her stomach begins twisting anxiously. She shouldn’t have suggested Faith sleep in her room. Faith must think it’s totally weird, and after they had such a nice day together, too.

They walk into the master suite together, Faith carrying her bag in one hand.

“The bathroom’s through there,” Buffy says, pointing at the open doorway. “If you need to brush your teeth and stuff.”

“Thanks,” Faith says, setting her bag down on an empty chair across from the bed.

Buffy goes to her own suitcase, digging through until she finds some loose pants and a t-shirt to sleep in. She feels a little calmer once she’s in the bathroom running through her pre-bed routine. That quickly diminishes once she and Faith trade places.

Alone in the bedroom, Buffy flips off the overhead light and turns on the bedside lamp. It’s a low light, and the room looks softer and cozier in comparison. Oh, God, it looks romantic. It looks like I’m trying to seduce her. She quickly turns on the overhead light again, turning her attention instead to moisturizing her hands and face. That feels like a safe choice.

Faith comes out of the bathroom, clean faced and clad in shorts and a t-shirt. “Where do you want me?” She asks.

Uhhhh…. Buffy’s brain spins out.

“Which side, I mean,” Faith clarifies.

Oh! Right. “Um, that one,” Buffy says, pointing to the opposite side of the bed.

Faith finds the overhead light switch and turns it off, plunging the room into dim lighting once more. Buffy pulls back the covers and slides under her side, leaving the cavernous remainder of the bed open for Faith. Once Faith’s also under the covers, she turns off the bedside lamp.

“Thanks for sharing your room,” Faith says quietly.

“Well, we did share last night,” Buffy says, rolling on her side so she’s facing Faith. With the size of this bed, there’s plenty of room for that.

“Less chance of you kicking me in the boob tonight though.”

“I did not do that!” Buffy says immediately, mortified.

“You did,” Faith says. “I rolled over so you could dig your toes into my back instead.” She turns on her side so she’s looking back at Buffy.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy says. “I really thought Dawn was lying about the kicking thing.”

“S’ok,” Faith murmurs, adjusting her pillow until she’s more comfortable. “It was like a massage. You know, when you get one of those really mean ladies that digs into you super hard.”

“Oh my God,” Buffy groans into her pillow.

Faith reaches over and pats her elbow. “It wasn’t that bad,” she says. “I came back for more, didn’t I?”

Buffy’s response is a disgruntled noise.

“I’m just messing with you,” Faith says, sounding sleepy. She pulls her hand back, nestling it under her pillow.  “Night, B.”

“Goodnight,” Buffy says, knowing it’s not going to be nearly as easy for her to fall asleep.

XXXXX

Warm breathing against her neck brings Faith to awareness. She lingers a moment, straddling the line between dreaming and waking. The scent of sweet body wash seems to be on the sheets, and her back is solidly pressed against a familiar body. Faith thinks she must be imagining the feeling of a heavy arm around her waist and a small hand nestled under her shirt against her ribs. She squeezes her eyes shut tighter and stays absolutely still, not wanting to wake up.

Rather than falling deeper into the dream, reality creeps into her consciousness. Hushed voices are coming from somewhere outside of the bedroom. Bright morning light makes its presence known through her closed eyelids. Faith opens her eyes, but otherwise remains motionless. The master suite greets her, which means that the hand inside her shirt can only belong to Buffy.

The right thing to do would be to slide out of bed now before Buffy wakes up. If she were awake, this wouldn’t be happening, and Faith knows she shouldn’t just lie here and savor the feeling, but she can’t help doing just that. She’s never imagined Buffy spooning her—her fantasies have usually been more of the awake variety—but now that she’s lying here, Buffy curled behind her, she feels incredibly content. Just another minute, she tells herself, closing her eyes again. One more minute and I’ll get up.

Before she has the chance to extract herself, Buffy’s breathing changes. The hand on Faith’s stomach squeezes lightly, then freezes in place. Buffy sucks in a breath, immediately tensing.

It takes all of Faith’s will power but she stays still, keeping her breathing even and deep. Buffy recovers after a moment, carefully pulling her hand back and sliding away, closer to her own side of the bed. Faith waits until she slips out of bed and into the bathroom before she lets herself exhale and roll over.

This is fine. It was just a fluke. Buffy was probably cold and rolled toward the nearest heat source. That’s all. All the same, she should probably go out to the kitchen and grab some coffee, put some space between them for a little while. Faith hurriedly pulls back the covers and gets to her feet. She goes to her suitcase, grabbing a sweatshirt and socks. Sitting back on the side of the bed to slip her socks on, she sees it. Sitting under the lamp on the bedside table, the totem waits to be noticed.

Faith yanks her sweatshirt over her head, already frowning, then picks the totem up. Today, the image of a wrapped gift with a bow on top greets her. By now, the water in the bathroom has come on, and Faith can make out the noise of Buffy brushing her teeth. Stopping to stuff the totem in her bag, Faith slips out of the master suite before Buffy can emerge.

XXXXX

Opening her eyes to take in the crystalline white snow coating all the branches around her, Willow releases a deep breath into the frigid air. Her morning centering ritual is going exceedingly well here. She suspects that may be partly due to the cool temperatures. Her mind isn’t inclined to wander if it means more time outdoors. Stretching her arms to either side, she brings them together over her head, then draws them down to her chest in a prayer pose. Muttering thanks to the goddess Minerva for her wisdom and protection, Willow releases her pose and shakes out her shoulders. Time to get back inside. Her nose feels like it’s about to fall off.

She begins walking briskly back toward the house, easily following her own footsteps through the snow. An indignant sound catches her attention, and she peers left to see two small birds squawking at each other. She smiles slightly, stepping away from her trail to get a better look at the pair. They’re mostly brown and white, with a flush of red feathers on their chests and heads. One has puffed himself up quite a bit, obviously the aggrieved party. As Willow watches, the other bird takes off in a flurry of small wings, leaving the puffy feathered fellow alone. Satisfied with that, the bird leans down and begins plucking at white berries attached to the branch it’s seated on.

Brow furrowing, Willow takes another few steps toward the bird. That plant looks familiar. The bird squeaks at her in annoyance as she reaches for the branch and brushes some snow free. Up close, she can see the berries are part of a plant that’s attached to the tree, not the tree itself. “Mistletoe,” she says, surprised. Having lived in Scotland for a few years now, Willow’s become familiar with the local flora and knows mistletoe isn’t commonly found this far North. Well played, Dernera, she thinks, gathering a small handful and gently pulling it from the plant. Message received.

Back at the house, she finds twine, neatly tying the stems of the small bouquet together. She’s got it wrapped in a towel, hidden from view, and has settled herself against the counter with a big mug of tea by the time she senses someone coming into the kitchen. Turning, she sees Faith. “You’re up early,” she says, grinning wickedly at Faith. “I thought you might wanna sleep in.”

Glowering at her, Faith meets her at the counter. “You were supposed to figure out a loophole and get me out of this.”

That takes the smile off Willow’s face. “I’m trying! This is really old magic. Nothing I do is working.” She’s tried an intercession to Dernera directly as well as three generic spell-breaking techniques. She’s come up with bupkis.

Faith looks frustrated, crossing her arms and letting her chin dip toward her chest.

“Maybe you should just tell her,” Willow suggests softly. “I really think—”

“Willow,” Faith says, a warning in her voice.

Willow stops talking, giving her a sympathetic look. “It’s your choice,” she says, “but I don’t think there’s any breaking the spell.”

Faith nods her acknowledgement. She ignores Willow’s eyes on her, reaching into the cupboard for a mug. She pours herself a cup of steaming coffee, flashes Willow a tight smile, and disappears toward the living room.

XXXXX

“I know what my excuse is,” Faith says to Kennedy and Xander as the three of them navigate the throngs of people out doing nearly last minute shopping, “but why aren’t you two done shopping?”

“It’s a time honored tradition in the Harris family,” Xander says, his boots crunching through the snow as he steps aside to allow an older man to pass. “We start our shopping on the 23rd and finish it up on the 24th. I find the air of desperation really takes a lot of the questioning out of the process. Does Dawnie need wool socks?” He lifts the bag dangling over his wrist. “I don’t know, but it’s too late to worry about it.”

This isn’t the best excuse Faith’s ever heard. She looks at Kennedy, who shrugs. “I’m a quick shopper. Besides, Willow’s Jewish so I don’t have to stress about finding her an amazing Christmas present. I’ve just gotta get her something for our totally secular winter gift exchange. I still don’t know why I’m expected to buy for other people though.”

“It’s a custom among humans, or so I’ve heard,” Faith says, scanning the stores as they walk. Apparently the Scooby tradition is to buy a small gift for each person. So far she’s gotten gifts for Giles, Dawn, and Kennedy. Xander and Willow should be easy enough. Predictably, it’s Buffy who’s proving to be a challenge. By the time Xander and Kennedy have rounded out their shopping lists, Faith’s becoming panicked. She still has nothing for Buffy, and the shops are going to start closing soon.

Kennedy looks longingly toward the brightly lit pub then at Xander. “Wanna grab a pint while Faith finishes up?”

He frowns at her. “We should help Faith. No man left behind and all that.”

“Faith,” Kennedy addresses her, “do you need our help? Because I’ve given you like 25 suggestions, and you ixnayed all of them.”

“Somehow, I don’t think Buffy would have liked the cherub statue, mint flavored lube, or the pint glass that said ‘I love to swallow.’”

Xander chokes slightly. “I didn’t see that last one.”

“It was funny,” Kennedy says defensively.

It was, which is why it’s now tucked in Faith’s bag as a gift for Kennedy. She shoos them toward the pub. “You guys go. I’m gonna do another sweep.”

“You sure?” Xander asks.

“Yeah,” Faith says. “I’ll meet you in a few. Think I’ve got an idea now.”

She leaves the two of them, headed away from the pub and back toward an antique shop they passed earlier. Inside, she heads for the brightly lit Christmas tree in the front window. There are several baskets of ornaments at the foot of the tree, and Faith looks them over in interest.

The ornaments are a mix of old and new. A pink and white doll catches Faith’s eye and she lifts it carefully. Upon closer inspection, it’s a ballerina with a dress of pink netted tulle and a hand painted face. It looks like it would be at home with the ornaments in the cabin, so Faith figures the era is probably right.

An older woman joins her at the Christmas tree, scanning the baskets as well. “Lovely,” she says softly when she sees what Faith’s holding.

That seals the deal. Faith takes the ballerina to the counter, makes her purchase, and is handed back her parcel carefully wrapped in protective tissue.

Faith starts back toward the pub, but she has a niggling feeling that she’s not quite done. As she passes the toy store, she feels a sharp tug on her jacket. Frowning, Faith glances behind her. There’s no one there. There’s no one anywhere near her. She turns in a complete circle, looking for something that could have caught her clothes. Finding nothing, she shrugs it off and starts walking again. This time, she stumbles as if the toe of her boot is caught on something. Righting herself, she glances down at the pavement. It’s perfectly smooth. Faith takes a minute to discreetly survey both sides of the street, looking for any hint that something or someone is screwing with her. Nothing stands out on the street, but inside the toy store, she’s got an audience. A girl of about 8 is watching her through the window, giggling.

Faith’s eyes narrow. That kid looks really familiar. It takes her a second to place it, but then it comes to her. This is the same kid from the Inverness airport, the little showboater from the choir. That feels like too big a coincidence.

Turning on her heel, Faith strides to the door of the toy store and heads inside. Several shoppers are still perusing the offerings, and Faith weaves through them, looking for the little girl. She spots brown pigtails and a blue jacket up ahead by the board games display. Quickening her pace, she reaches the girl’s back. “Hey, kid.”

The child turns, and Faith almost immediately realizes she’s not the same kid. They just bear a pretty close resemblance.

“Can I help you?” An adult woman with the child gives Faith a pointed look.

“Sorry,” Faith says, taking a step away, “thought she was my niece from behind. My bad.” She turns and walks away before the woman can say anything, not stopping until she turns the corner and they’re out of sight. She’s surrounded by stuffed animals of all sizes. Feeling a little like she’s losing it, she turns toward the exit, intending on heading to the pub. As she walks down the aisle, her eyes fall on a small pinkish plush. She stops, plucking it from the shelf and holding it up.

It’s a pig, with small black eyes and a thin curly tail. It’s been years since she saw the thing, but Faith’s pretty sure this pig is a dead ringer for the one that used to sit on Buffy’s bed back in Sunnydale. She thinks about the totem showing her a wrapped gift this morning and lets out a muffled curse. Cramming the pig under her arm, she stalks toward the register to pay.

XXXXX

It’s a monster, plain and simple. The edges don’t line up and the flappy parts are too long on one side and too short on the other. There’s an extra little lump at one end even though Buffy knows for a fact that there’s nothing solid in the lump. She glances over at Willow’s progress. “Explain to me again how I’ve been celebrating Christmas my whole life and everything I wrap looks like it was done by a Yarbnie demon, and you don’t even celebrate Christmas and have professional wrapping skills.”

Willow looks up from the elaborate bow she’s currently affixing onto a small wrapped box. “You realize I also wrap birthday gifts and I’ve been wrapping half of the Christmas gifts you buy since I met you?”

“Good point,” Buffy says. She gives up on the current gift, slapping a gift tag for Giles on it and setting it aside. Looking around furtively, she reaches for the large shopping bag that houses her remaining gifts to be wrapped. “You’re on Dawn interference.”

“I think you’re safe,” Willow says. “She’s been holed up in her room since lunch. What’s she doing in there anyway?”

“I tried to ask and got screeched at,” Buffy says. “I’m pretty sure she and Ryan are making up.”

Willow’s nods. “Breaking up would probably be louder.”

“Exactly,” Buffy agrees, carefully lining up the tall box with the boots she’s bought for Dawn on the rolled out wrapping paper in front of her. It looks straight enough, and she sets to work, folding and taping. Thirty seconds later, the package looks inexplicably crooked. “Am I cursed?” Buffy asks. “Is there a demon whose one power is making someone suck at wrapping gifts and it’s set its sights on me?”

“They do have a demon for everything,” Willow says, still keeping watch for Dawn while she sips her tea. “Who do we have left to wrap?”

“Just Faith I think,” Buffy says, squinting at the end of the box. How did she end up with so much extra paper on this side?

“Want me to do that one?” Willow asks, once Buffy’s sufficiently covered enough of the box in giant glittery snowflake paper that a lookout is no longer required.

“Yes, please!”

Willow reaches into the bag and unearths two remaining gifts. “Which one is for her?”

Giving up on orderly lines, Buffy crams the paper into a flat shape and applies tape. “Both,” she says, looking up and frowning. “I couldn’t decide. What do you think?”

“Well,” Willow says, holding up a pair of socks with yetis on them, “on the one hand, socks are a classic gift, and these do have a cryptid on them so it’s kind of slayer-y. On the other hand…” She trails off, lifting a small pendant on a chain from inside a gift box. “Where did you get this, Buffy?”

“I stopped in a shop my last night in Nepal,” Buffy says, “after Giles told me Faith was in town. It’s pretty right?”

Turning it over, Willow lays the pendent face down in her palm so she can see the design on the back. She frowns.

“What?” Buffy prompts, uncertain why she’s studying it so closely.

Willow lingers over the pendant another second, then holds it out. “There’s Sanskrit here, see? It’s hidden in the design.”

Buffy leans closer. “I see it now,” she says. “What does it mean?”

Instead of answering, Willow opens her cellphone and starts typing. “Got it!” She says a second later. “It’s a Raksana pendant.”

Well that doesn’t sound good. If she managed to get Faith an evil Christmas present, Buffy’s throwing in the towel.

“It’s for protection,” Willow adds, turning it over and placing it gently back in the box.

“Oh,” Buffy says, relieved. “Does it work?”

“Yes and no,” Willow says. “They do work, but if you’re in a dangerous profession like say, vampire slaying, it’s not like it can be 100%. It won’t hurt her though, for sure. Plus it’s pretty.” She smiles at Buffy. “I think she’ll love it.”

“Okay,” Buffy says, “so who gets the yeti socks?”

“Give her both,” Willow advises, closing the box. She looks at the rolls of wrapping paper sitting on the floor beside her knee and selects a simple paper with snowy evergreens.

Buffy nods her agreement and goes back to wrapping Dawn’s present. It looks horrible, but maybe a bow will help?

“So,” Willow asks conversationally as she carefully estimates the amount of paper needed to wrap the necklace and begins cutting it, “how was sharing a bed with Faith?”

Buffy doesn’t need to look up, she can hear the mischief in Willow’s tone. “We were sleeping,” she says pointedly.

“Uh huh,” Willow says, folding the paper neatly and taping it to the small box. “Look, can I say something?”

“Could I stop you if I tried?” Buffy mutters.

“Nope,” Willow says brightly.

“Then go ahead.”

She’s surprised when Willow sets the tape down and reaches over, touching her knee. Buffy looks up to see a gentler look on Willow’s face. “You’re into her, right?”

The denial is on her tongue already—she’s never told anyone about her thing for Faith, even Willow—but Willow’s looking at her so sweetly that the truth slips out instead. “Yeah,” Buffy admits in a croak. Then she catches herself and plasters a big smile on. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not a big deal. She’s just… Faith.”

“Faith who you kinda have a thing for?” Willow suggests.

“It’s not a thing,” Buffy argues. “It’s just that she’s, you know, really pretty, and she’s funny, and pretty cool to—what?” Buffy frowns, noticing the look on Willow’s face.

“It sounds like a thing,” Willow says lightly.

Sighing, Buffy deflates.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Willow suggests, making Buffy sit up straight again in alarm. “She’s definitely interested in you.”

“No,” Buffy says immediately. “No, that’s a terrible idea. Me and Faith?” Her laugh sounds brittle to her own ears. “Way too much history. She’d never be interested.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Will,” Buffy pleads, “is there any part of you that’s impacted by the holiday spirit? You know, kindness? Goodwill toward men? Not torturing your best friend?”

“That’s a Christmas thing,” Willow teases. “You guys have to be terrorized into kindness by Christmas ghosts and stuff. My people practice goodwill to mankind all year ‘round.”

“Except tonight.”

“Especially tonight,” Willow corrects. “In fact, one could even say that trying to pull your best friend’s head out of her ass is a mitzvah.”

“Willow!” Buffy says, picking up a wrapping paper tube and whacking her in the arm.

“I call it like I see it!” Willow says, picking up her own tube and brandishing it defensively. “You like Faith, and if I have to torture you into admitting it to her, I will! You deserve to be happy, Buffy.”

Buffy stops her wrapping paper tube mid swing. Damn Willow for infusing sweet statements into the middle of their argument. “Thanks,” she says begrudgingly.

“You’re welcome,” Willow says, and pokes her none too gently in the thigh with the wrapping paper, “but think about what I said, okay? Promise?”

“Promise,” Buffy mutters, pouting all the while.

XXXXX

In spite of her promise, Buffy firmly puts Willow’s advice out of her mind. She and Faith are finally on good terms, and there’s no reason to ruin that by confessing her feelings and making things awkward between them. Once Faith, Xander, and Kennedy get back from the shops bearing pizza, everyone settles into the living room for a late dinner and a Christmas movie. Giles’s suggestion of White Christmas is soundly outvoted, with Dawn’s pick winning out. By the time The Muppet Christmas Carol wraps up, everyone’s ready to head to bed.

Buffy takes a detour to the kitchen to put the last of their dishes in the sink, waving off offers of help. She turns off the lights and makes sure the doors are locked before heading toward the master suite. As she enters the hall, she walks directly into Faith, stumbling backward in surprise.

Faith grabs her hip as Buffy manages to snag a fistful of her sleeve. “Sorry,” Faith says, steadying her. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“No, me neither,” Buffy says.

“I was wondering where that came from.” Faith points directly over their heads to where a bundle of mistletoe is dangling from the ceiling.

Buffy can guess exactly where that came from. Willow, she thinks, annoyed.

The mistletoe is hung in the hallway that leads away from the kitchen, close enough to the kitchen that one might argue it’s just there for festive decoration. In reality, only Buffy and Faith have much reason to go down this way.

“No idea,” Buffy says. She realizes she’s still holding Faith’s shirt, and Faith’s hand is warm on her hip.

Faith looks back down, biting her lip slightly. “It is tradition,” she suggests lightly.

Buffy’s heartbeat quickens, and she automatically looks at Faith’s mouth before catching herself. “I think it’s bad luck to ignore the mistletoe,” she agrees, trying to sound teasing.

Licking her lips, Faith says, “We can’t have that.”

Faith’s eyes are wide and dark, and Buffy feels a little breathless as she says, “No, we can’t.”

Faith’s grip tightens slightly on Buffy’s hip, and she leans in.

Buffy closes her eyes, tilting her chin up. Faith’s soft lips press to her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth, then she pulls back.

Disappointed but not willing to show it, Buffy gives her an easy smile. “Crisis averted,” she says.

Faith nods, letting her hand fall from Buffy’s hip. “For now,” she says, her dimples flashing as she smiles.

“Until tomorrow morning when we forget and walk out at the same time?”

“Exactly,” Faith says. She looks past Buffy’s shoulder into the darkened kitchen. “I’m gonna grab a glass of water. I’ll be uh, in bed in a minute.”

“Okay,” Buffy agrees, stepping aside so Faith can pass her. With Faith out of sight, Buffy lets out a deep breath and glares up at the mistletoe. Willow’s getting a talking to tomorrow. After waking up this morning to find she’d unconsciously gotten a little too cuddly with Faith, the last thing she needs is almost kisses in the hall before bed. Buffy’s firmly resolved to stay on her own side tonight, through whatever means necessary. Maybe splashing herself with some cold water will help. Maybe she’ll put a pillow in the middle of the bed, she thinks, proceeding down the hall and into the bedroom. Whatever it takes to keep from making an ass of herself tomorrow morning.

XXXXX

Well, this isn’t good, Faith thinks, waking up to Buffy’s hair tickling her nose. Rather than finding Buffy cuddled up to her, she finds herself spooning Buffy. Her nose is against Buffy’s hair, her lips brushing the bare skin of Buffy’s shoulder beside the strap of her tank top. Her first instinct is to fling herself bodily from the bed before Buffy wakes up and punches her in the face or something, but her slayer instincts kick in. Calm down. Assess the situation. Make your move only when you’re sure of success. She can’t easily extract herself. Her right arm is under Buffy’s pillow, her left around her waist. Buffy’s arm is over Faith’s, and any movement is sure to disturb her.

So, Faith assesses. Unfortunately while she’s looking for a viable escape route, she’s also noticing all kinds of unhelpful information, like the view she has down the front of Buffy’s tank and the feeling of her ass perfectly cradled against Faith’s pelvis. Her body is all the way awake now, and excitement makes her breath quicken and her belly feel tight. Pervert, she tells herself, trying to tamp down on that excited feeling. B would kick my ass six ways to Sunday if she knew about this.

Okay, so the arm under the pillow thing is fine. She can leave it there and roll over on her back. They won’t technically be touching, so that doesn’t seem so bad. It’s really the whole plastered against Buffy’s back/arm around her thing that’s a problem. But how to get out of this… God, she smells good.

The arm covering Faith’s tenses minutely. This is her last chance to move and attempt to salvage this before Buffy’s all the way awake. Maybe she can just slide out and—

“Morning,” Buffy murmurs.

Her elbow hasn’t jammed into Faith’s ribs yet, so that’s a good sign. “Morning,” Faith replies cautiously, gently pulling her arm free. She rolls onto her back, putting some distance between them.

“You want your arm back?” Buffy offers, lifting her head.

“Oh,” Faith says, “yeah. Thanks.” She maneuvers her arm out from under Buffy’s pillow, wincing as a pins and needles feeling takes over. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Buffy says, shifting so she’s on her back too. “Actually I did the same thing last night.” She shoots a shy look in Faith’s direction, her face a little rosy.

“You did?” Faith asks, as if she doesn’t already know that.

Buffy nods. “Guess we’re both cuddlers.”

Faith has never known herself to be a cuddler, but she nods her agreement anyway.

“Better than being kicked in the boob?” Buffy asks with a tentative smile.

“Definitely,” Faith confirms. Buffy’s being cool about this. Time to beat a hasty retreat. “I’m gonna shower,” she says, sitting up.

“Okay.”

Faith gets up quickly, intent on a cold shower to start her day.

“Hey Faith,” Buffy says, as Faith reaches the bathroom door.

Faith glances back to find Buffy propped on one elbow, holding something in her hand. “Yeah?”

“What’s this thing?” Buffy holds up the little totem, displaying its face for Faith to see.

It’s two fat cherubs leaning in to peck on the lips, each of them dressed in little snowsuits.

“Uh,” Faith says, momentarily lost for words.

Buffy rotates the cube in her hands. “They’re Snowbabies,” she says.

“Yeah,” Faith says, recovering her senses. “I don’t know. I found it with the ornaments. Thought it was cute.”

Buffy sets it back on the night table, accepting that explanation. “It is,” she agrees. Looking up at Faith again, she smiles. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

Trying to pretend that her heart isn’t pounding out of control now, Faith smiles back. “Merry Christmas Eve, B.”

XXXXX

Faith plans to go skiing with Kennedy, Xander, and Willow, but due to the combined power of the Summers sisters’ pouting, she spends the afternoon ice skating. Buffy and Dawn look like Olympians next to Faith. In spite of slayer balancing skills, she falls on her ass three times. She does slightly better when Buffy drags her back to her feet and links their arms. They manage a few circuits of the pond together before Faith finally topples them both again. After that, she hobbles her way to the bench where Giles is sitting, reading a book. He holds out a steaming cup of mulled cider and gives her a sympathetic smile.

When they get home, Faith begs off the Scrabble game (Giles is playing—they’re all going to lose anyway) and wraps the gifts she purchased yesterday. She stashes them all under the tree before she goes for a long soak in the bath. Once her ass is finally slightly less sore, she lets the water drain, getting out and toweling off. She looks at the pile of clothing waiting for her and lets out a long sigh. Dawn shoved these pajamas into her hands earlier, in spite of her protests. They’re blue flannel with gnomes and candy canes on them. She looks absolutely absurd, but it’s better to look stupid than to face the wrath of Dawn when she comes out as the only one not dressed up. Opening the bathroom door, she’s surprised to find Buffy standing at the foot of the bed.

“Hey!” Buffy says brightly, already dressed in her gnome pajamas. Somehow they look much cuter on her. She’s looking at a red and white gift box sitting on the bed.

What the hell is that doing in here? Faith knows for a fact she put it under the tree with all the rest.

Buffy leans down, inspecting the gift tag. Seeing it’s for her, she grins excitedly. “Christmas Eve rules?” 

“Huh?”

“Christmas Eve rules,” Buffy repeats. “You get to open one present early on Christmas Eve.”

“Oh,” Faith says, “sure.” Should she stay here while Buffy opens it? Faith always feels awkward when people watch her open a gift, but it looks like Buffy’s expecting her to stay. She comes into the room, perching on the edge of the bed.

Buffy practically bounces in excitement, tearing into the wrapping paper. She gets the top of the box off, then shoves the tissue paper aside. She immediately freezes, staring at the gift in surprise. 

Not sure if that look on her face is a good thing, Faith starts, “I thought it looked like—”

“Mr. Gordo,” Buffy says, her eyes welling up slightly. “Just like Mr. Gordo.” She picks up the stuffed pig, letting the box fall to the bed. She holds it in both hands as she studies it.

Faith tries to read Buffy’s face. Is she sad? She looks sad.

“This is amazing,” Buffy says, holding the pig to her chest and looking at Faith.

Embarrassed, Faith shrugs. Not too sad then.

“Thank you,” Buffy says. She turns to Faith, setting the pig down on the bed. Stepping into Faith’s space, Buffy wraps both arms around her. 

The height differential is putting Faith’s head entirely too close to Buffy’s boobs for comfort, so she slides off the bed, getting to her feet. She hugs Buffy back. “You’re welcome, B. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Buffy says, sniffling slightly. She squeezes Faith a little harder.

She’s not making any move to let go, so Faith doesn’t either. After a minute, it’s beginning to feel weird, with the two of them just standing here holding each other. The totem face from this morning comes to mind. Everything else on the totem has happened, one way or another. Maybe she should just… but Buffy’s loosening her hold now, so Faith lets go too, quickly putting a little space between them.

“I have something for you too,” Buffy says, smiling brightly although her eyes are wet.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Christmas Eve rules!” Buffy retorts, disappearing out the door.

Faith looks over at the clock on the wall: 10:50pm. In an hour and ten minutes, this will all be over. She sits back down on the bed, folding her legs in front of her. Only a little over an hour. She can totally do this.

Buffy comes back with a small, neat box, wrapped and ribboned beautifully. She holds it out proudly, waiting for Faith to take it before she hops onto the bed beside her.

“Wow,” Faith says, turning the box around, “did Martha Stewart swing by while we were out?”

“Just Willow,” Buffy admits with a rueful smile. “I suck at wrapping.”

Faith had noticed some of the presents look like they were wrapped by toddlers, but she’d figured that had been Xander for sure. “I’m sure you’re not that bad,” she says politely.

“No, I’m terrible,” Buffy says. She grips Faith’s wrist, shaking her arm slightly. “Come on, open it!”

Does she have to be so fucking cute? Faith thinks, turning her attention to the present. She carefully strips the ribbon away, setting it aside and beginning to tear at the paper. Inside is a plain brown box smaller than her palm.

Buffy looks just as excited for this reveal as she was for her own gift, so Faith takes her time, slowly peeling off every scrap of paper and organizing it into a neat pile on the bed.

“You’re worse than Giles,” Buffy complains, looking severely put out by this.

Smirking, Faith gives in and lifts the lid off the box.

The necklace is nestled on a small padded pillow, a long chain with a small pendant on the end. She lifts it free, setting the box down, and peers at it closer. Both sides of the silver are engraved with an intricate design. It isn’t quite floral, but the curves in the metal suggest something delicate. It’s beautiful, and Faith’s momentarily taken aback that Buffy chose something like this for her.

“Do you like it?” Buffy asks, sounding a little hesitant now that Faith hasn’t said anything. “I thought you’d like the design, and umm, actually it’s kind of blessed with protective magic. So I figured if you’re out on patrol, it’s not just pretty, but—”

“Thank you,” Faith cuts off her babbling, reaching across the bed and grabbing her hand. “I love it. It’s beautiful.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, looking relieved. “Good. I’m glad.” She grasps Faith’s hand with both of hers and squeezes.

Faith’s eyes skip to the clock on the wall. 10:57. She swallows hard, then extracts her hand. Lifting the chain, Faith slips the necklace over her head. The pendant falls just at the top of her cleavage, and she lifts it again, looking at it closer. It really is lovely.

“Looks good,” Buffy says softly.

“Really makes the gnomes’ eyes pop,” Faith agrees.

“Totally,” Buffy laughs. She picks up her new Mr. Gordo again and holds him to her chest. “I still got the better gift here though. Where did you even find this?”

“A toy store in town,” Faith says.

“So weird,” Buffy says, looking at the little stuffed animal.

“Yeah.”

“Are you guys coming?” Dawn shouts from the living room. “The movie’s starting!”

“Coming!” Buffy yells back. She squeezes the new Mr. Gordo again and sets him in a place of honor on her side of the bed.

In the living room, they get comfortable with popcorn and blankets. A small fire burns in the woodstove, making the room cheery. Faith focuses on the TV as Home Alone starts, but after a while she realizes she has no idea what has happened for at least the last 30 minutes, other than Buffy and Dawn have been giggling at various parts. Giles has already gone to bed, as have Willow and Kennedy. That’s just as well. Faith couldn’t really take any more of Willow’s pointed looks. She’s catching maybe every fifth word of the movie, watching the clock wind down. Her lungs feel constricted in her chest, and her hands are cold and clammy. It’s 11:54.

Faith forces her eyes to the TV. On screen, Kate McCallister stares at the airport employee in damp eyed, red lipped earnestness. “This is Christmas, the season of perpetual hope.”

Faith glances back up as the clock ticks to 11:55.

“And I don't care if I have to get out on your runway and hitchhike.”

Five minutes and it’s done.

“If it costs me everything I own,” Kate says passionately, “if I have to sell my soul to the devil himself, I am going to get home to my son.”

“Are you okay?” Xander asks from beside her, his voice a whisper.

Faith knows she isn’t keeping it together. Her eyes are burning, her throat feels full. The season of perpetual hope, she thinks. Fuck it. “Hey, B, I need to talk to you.”

Faith’s on her feet, everyone else staring at her in surprise.

“Okay,” Buffy says, sounding confused.

Faith doesn’t wait for Buffy to get herself up. She strides over, pulls the blanket off her lap, and pulls her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” Buffy asks, obviously unsure what’s happening.

“Nope,” Faith says, filled now with a sort of manic determination. Taking Buffy’s hand, she all but drags her through the kitchen and to the master suite. Her eyes are on the clock as they enter the room. 11:58 and headed quickly for 11:59.

“What’s going on?” Buffy asks, her voice moving from confused to concerned.

“I need to talk to you,” Faith says, dropping her hand. She crosses her arms across her chest, hearing the sound of the clock ticking far too loud in her ears.

“I got that part,” Buffy says. She reaches for Faith’s arms, gently squeezing her biceps. “You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“I know,” Faith says. “I need to—” she starts, then stops, stepping back from Buffy’s hold. “Maybe you should sit down.”

Giving her a weird look, Buffy moves to the end of the bed, sitting down on the edge.

“Okay,” Faith says, dropping her hands and shaking them out. “Okay, so there’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, and I never thought I’d tell you because, umm, I didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

Buffy watches her pacing back and forth, obviously not following this at all. 

“I guess because if it was true, that would mean everything I already fucked up was much, much worse.” Faith pauses, rubbing her palms against her pants anxiously. “But uh, I’m sort of cursed right now. Literally.”

Eyebrows rising, Buffy asks, “What?”

“Long story short I touched a totem from some Power That Be chick and now I have a shot at having the thing I want most in the world,” Faith says hurriedly, “but only if I don’t fuck up my chance before, uh, well, now.”

“Did you tell Giles about this?” Buffy asks, sounding concerned. “Shouldn’t we be un-cursing you?”

“It’s kinda too late for that now.” Faith licks her lips and glances up at the clock. The second hand seems to be moving faster, bypassing the 6 and headed for the 7. “That part’s not important anyway. What I’m trying to say, is…” She stops, looking at Buffy.

Blinking in complete befuddlement, Buffy stares back at her.

The second hand moves past 10, ticking on toward 11. Faith takes a deep breath and then lets it out. “The thing I want most in the world... is you.” She watches as Buffy’s eyes widen, unable to stop herself from blurting out the rest. “I’m in love with you, Buffy.”

Buffy’s mouth falls open in shock.

The second hand passes 11, but the hard part is over now. Faith’s shoulders loosen slightly. “I have been for a long, long time.”

“But,” Buffy sputters, “you never said anything.”

Faith shrugs helplessly. From the living room, she hears Dawn excitedly wishing Xander a Merry Christmas. It’s midnight. The spell or whatever it was is over. There’s no magic left here, just Buffy, Faith, and Faith’s confession dangling between them.

“I mean,” Buffy says, still staring at her, “are you sure?”

Faith laughs mirthlessly. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

Buffy’s brow furrows.

Well, that’s done. Taking a step back, Faith says, “I’m gonna get some air.”

She makes it two more steps before Buffy is off the bed and grabbing her wrist. “I don’t think so,” she says, holding Faith in place, looking at her like she’s never seen her before. “Faith…”

“Don’t,” Faith says. “You don’t have to say anything. I figured you didn’t feel the same. I’m sorry I said—what are you doing?”

Buffy’s stepped closer to her, looking intently into Faith’s face. She takes both of Faith’s hands, threading their fingers together.

“B,” Faith starts to say, but then Buffy’s tilting her chin up, and Faith automatically closes her eyes as Buffy’s lips press to hers.

It takes a second for her brain to catch up to reality, and Faith stands stock still, frozen in shock. Buffy’s kissing her. Not only is she not running for the hills, she’s squeezing Faith’s hands for dear life and kissing her.

Managing to recover her senses, Faith grips her hands and leans in, kissing Buffy back. It’s slow and tentative, but just the feeling of Buffy’s chest against hers, her soft lips brushing Faith’s, is making her heart race. 

The kiss breaks, and Buffy presses her forehead to Faith’s. Her voice sounds shaky when she says, “We’re both really stupid.”

Faith laughs, letting go of one of Buffy’s hands so she can hold her waist. “I know I am, but you too?”

“I’ve been wanting this for,” Buffy pauses, letting out a soft laugh, “years. I didn’t think you would be interested.”

“Oh,” Faith says, grinning, “yeah. We’re both complete idiots.”

“Guess we have some lost time to make up for,” Buffy says, her lips almost brushing Faith’s.

“Guess we do,” Faith agrees.

Buffy’s free hand comes up to tangle in Faith’s hair, and Faith forgets how to breathe as she crushes Buffy against her and kisses her again.

There’s no room in Faith’s brain for anything other than how amazing this feels. She’s dizzy with it: Buffy’s teeth nipping at Faith’s lip, her hair tickling Faith’s cheeks. Buffy makes a contented noise, releasing Faith’s fingers so she can slide her hand under the back of Faith’s shirt.

Short nails scrape along the small of her back, and Faith sucks in a breath, her spine arching slightly.

Uncertain footsteps in the hall cause them to pause.

“Guys?” Xander calls, without opening the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Buffy calls back. “We’re good!”

“You coming back to finish the movie?”

Buffy looks at Faith who shrugs. Her thumb rubs circles into Buffy’s hip.

“Yeah, we’ll be right there,” Buffy says.

They listen to him walking back down the hall before Buffy drops her head to Faith’s shoulder. “Why did I say we’d finish the movie?” She asks, letting her mouth ghost across Faith’s neck.

The sensation makes Faith’s fingers tighten on Buffy’s hip. “Temporary insanity,” she suggests.

“Must be.” Buffy lifts her head, smiling shyly at Faith. “To be continued?”

Faith nods. Before she lets go, she pulls Buffy flush against her for a searing kiss.

Buffy blinks, looking slightly dazed. “I’ve seen Home Alone like a thousand times…”

“Go,” Faith laughs, pushing her toward the door.

Faith thinks she does a good job of pretending things are normal as they finish out the movie, even if she spends most of it thinking about getting her hands back on Buffy. She steals glances at Buffy periodically to find she’s smiling harder than the movie probably calls for. Faith’s sure her face probably looks the same.

It takes every ounce of patience in her, but Faith survives the 20 minutes after the movie when the four of them stay in the living room, talking about absolutely nothing of importance. If she had her way, she’d get up right now, toss Buffy over her shoulder caveman style, and retreat to the bedroom. Instead they engage in lingering goodnights with Xander and Dawn, then go through the process of turning out the lights, locking up the house, and wandering quietly toward their room.

Buffy must feel the same, because she yanks Faith to a stop as they start down the hallway toward their room. She points at the ceiling where the mistletoe bundle still hangs, then puts her hands on both of Faith’s shoulders and pushes her against the wall. “For future reference,” she says in a low voice, “this is what I’m expecting when we find ourselves under mistletoe together.”

She starts kissing Faith’s neck, her fingers tangling in Faith’s hair and pulling her head to the side to make more room for herself.

“Pretty sure this isn’t traditional,” Faith mumbles, gritting her teeth as Buffy nips gently at her jaw. “Fuck.”

“Are you complaining?” Buffy asks, her lips against Faith’s earlobe.

Faith’s hands find her hips and pull her forward so they’re pressed together. “Nope,” she says, any further words lost when Buffy’s mouth covers hers.

One of Buffy’s hands manages to get between Faith and the wall, sliding onto her butt. Emboldened by that, Faith lets her own hand slide down Buffy’s ass onto her thigh. She drags it up onto her hip.

“We should—” Buffy starts between kisses.

“Sorry,” Faith says quickly, releasing Buffy’s leg. “Too fast?”

Buffy shakes her head. “I was gonna say we should move this to the bedroom before Giles comes for a midnight snack and is scarred for life.”

“Oh come on,” Faith scoffs. “All the shit he’s seen you guys get up to?”

“Excuse me,” Buffy says indignantly, pulling herself away from Faith and smoothing her shirt down, “he has yet to walk in on me making out with anyone.” She thinks for a moment and winces. “Okay, one time, but it was a spell, and he was mostly blind!”

Faith squints at her. “It’s a strange life you lead.”

“You’re telling me,” Buffy mutters. “So are we gonna stand here all night so you can make fun of me, or…?”

“Bedroom,” Faith says agreeably, standing up straight. She reaches for Buffy’s waist and propels her down the hallway.

Once the bedroom door closes behind them, Buffy’s back in her arms. They leave the lights off, fumbling toward the bed in the dark. Mr. Gordo (the second) is carefully set aside and the wrapping paper from early is kicked out of the way. Faith finds herself shoved gently onto the mattress, Buffy climbing astride her.

“God, we should have been doing this the other night instead of reading,” Buffy whispers, working her hand under Faith’s shirt.

“I don’t know,” Faith says, gasping as Buffy palms her right breast, “seemed like you were pretty into the mer-dude sex.”

“I was not,” Buffy says, pinching Faith’s nipple lightly. “How do you know what it was about anyway?”

“Wanted to know why your face was so red.” Faith sucks in her breath as Buffy increases the pressure on her nipple slightly.

“Probably because we were all cuddled up on the couch,” Buffy says, cutting off further conversation with a kiss.

Faith’s willing to let it go, distracted as she is by Buffy’s thighs nice and tight around her hips and Buffy’s tongue gently stroking hers.

Their hands wander, touching and squeezing, sliding under clothes and along soft skin. Faith’s not sure what Buffy’s planning here, whether this is going to be the best makeout session of her life or more, until Buffy’s tugging the waistband of her pajamas down and running her fingertips under the waistband of Faith’s panties.

Still on top, Buffy looks up from the path her hand is taking and meets Faith’s eyes. “This okay?” She asks, her voice sounding a little throaty.

“Uh huh,” Faith agrees, “although usually I find less clothing is better.”

“Right,” Buffy says, sitting up. She reaches for the bottom of her shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside. She’s reaching for the clasp on her bra when Faith sits up too.

“Let me?” She asks.

Buffy nods, sitting back on Faith’s lap so Faith can more easily sit up straight.

Faith moves slower, wrapping Buffy in a hug and bringing her lips to her neck. She kisses her softly, moving down her neck to her shoulder before she peels the strap of Buffy’s bra away. Her fingertips run down Buffy’s back and continue back up until she grasps the clasp of the bra. When it falls away, Faith follows it with her mouth, sucking and licking her way over one breast, then the other.

Buffy’s hands find the hem of Faith’s shirt and she tugs lightly. Getting the picture, Faith lets her pull it off, her bra following after momentarily. Buffy carefully brushes Faith’s hair behind her shoulders, eyes obviously drinking her in. When she looks back up, she slides closer in Faith’s lap, pressing their breasts together.

They get sidetracked by kissing again, and Faith almost forgets they still have more clothing to remove. Buffy’s skin on hers is incredible, and she can’t stop touching her, her shoulders, her back, her perfect little tits.

The ache between her legs reminds her to keep momentum, and she reaches for Buffy’s pants, playing with the waistband until Buffy gets the hint,

Buffy stands to shimmy out of her pants, kicking them down her legs as she reaches for Faith’s. She strips them both, and Faith toes out of her socks while Buffy untangles her foot from the bottom of her pants.

Buffy stops then, standing at the edge of the bed, looking a little more nervous than before.

Taking her hand, Faith tugs her forward so they’re touching again. “C’mere,” she says, and Buffy climbs back on the bed.

They lie on their sides, Buffy in Faith’s arms, getting used to being naked together. Buffy’s thigh is between Faith’s, and it creeps higher as they kiss. Faith lets her call the shots, managing to stop herself from spreading her legs and pulling Buffy’s thigh against her throbbing pussy.

Buffy gets there soon enough on her own, a self-satisfied little smile appearing on her face at Faith’s groan.

Now, Faith stops holding back. She raises her knee to Buffy’s hip, grinding herself down against Buffy’s thigh.

Usually, it takes a lot more than this to get her off, but she’s so turned on already—this is Buffy—that she thinks this might be enough. Buffy’s holding Faith’s hip, helping her rock back and forth against her thigh, and the friction is so good.

It gets better when Buffy slides her hand between her leg and Faith’s pussy, her fingers getting to the places her leg just can’t quite reach. She slips between Faith’s labia, finding her clit after a moment and stroking.

Faith’s eyes squeeze closed in concentration. She grips Buffy’s back with one hand, the other trying to stay out of the way. Her orgasm builds up slowly, heat that blooms low in her stomach until it spreads through her body. She clings to Buffy when she comes, probably too hard, but Buffy doesn’t complain.

Her hand keeps moving until Faith makes a sound of protest, then Buffy gently pulls away. She leaves her leg in place and wraps her arm around Faith’s back, holding her while Faith catches her breath.

Fortunately, the slayer stamina is real, and Faith bounces back quickly. She eases Buffy onto her back, intending to take her time as she returns the favor, wanting Buffy to feel just how much Faith wants her.

Buffy has other ideas. She lifts her hips, rolling them into Faith’s. “Please,” she whispers, sounding a little pained, “please, Faith.”

Faith’s never been one to tell a lady no. She covers Buffy’s mouth with hers, immediately shifting so she can maneuver one hand between Buffy’s legs.

She manages to muffle most of Buffy’s ensuing moan, but can’t quite hold in her own when she touches Buffy for the first time. Buffy’s dripping wet, the inside of her thighs sticky with arousal. She opens her legs wider, her fingers digging into Faith’s hip as if she needs to hold her in place.

When Faith slides her fingers inside her to the last knuckle, Buffy’s hips buck toward her hand, her head thrown back against the pillow. Taking that as a good sign, Faith starts to pump them in and out, lowering her head to Buffy’s chest and sucking one nipple into her mouth.

Buffy’s hand finds Faith’s hair and tangles in it, her hold tight. When Faith curls her fingers a little, Buffy groans, her hand tightening in Faith’s hair.

Smiling around her nipple, Faith picks up her pace, letting her fingers curl each time she thrusts in. Buffy’s thighs tremble around Faith’s wrist as she works.

“Oh God,” Buffy whimpers, her legs tensing.

Faith can feel Buffy getting tighter and wetter still, squeezing her fingers. She switches nipples, pulling the other one into her mouth and letting her teeth scrape against it lightly.

Buffy’s back arches, and Faith sucks harder. She adjusts her hand, getting her thumb into position to rub against Buffy’s clit.

At the first touch, Buffy makes a noise that’s almost a sob. Faith plunges her fingers in fully and then circles her thumb over Buffy’s clit.

Buffy pants underneath her, her unoccupied hand clutching the sheets.

Knowing Buffy’s on the edge, Faith pulls her fingers back just slightly and shoves them in again, hard. She laps at Buffy’s nipple with her tongue and rubs circles against her clit.

Buffy stiffens, and her muscles clamp down on Faith’s fingers. Her hand leaves the sheets, clasping Faith’s shoulder instead.

Her fingers dig in hard enough to bruise, but Faith isn’t bothered in the slightest. She rides out Buffy’s orgasm with her, softening but not stopping her touch until Buffy’s body relaxes and she lets out a shaky sigh.

Only then does Faith gently withdraw her hand. She kisses Buffy’s chest again, then slides off her, giving her a little space to breathe.

After a minute, Buffy opens her eyes again and looks at Faith. “Wow,” she says, still breathing hard.

“Yeah?” Faith asks, grinning to herself.

“Yeah,” Buffy repeats. She rolls on her side, smushing up against Faith.

Opening her arm for Buffy to snuggle into, Faith rubs Buffy’s back gently.

Somewhere around Faith’s collarbone, Buffy says, “Think I’m gonna keep you.”

Faith snorts. She kisses the top of Buffy’s head and asks, “You’re not gonna ask me if I wanna be kept?”

“I thought that was obvious,” Buffy says. Her fingertips glide up and down Faith’s thigh. “If you need a little more convincing though… that could be arranged.”

“Mmm,” Faith hums as if she’s thinking about it. “I might.”

Warm lips press to her collarbone, and Buffy says, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

XXXXX

“But it’s mistletoe,” Dawn’s voice snakes its way through Faith’s unconscious. “You have to!”

“You put those lips anywhere near me, and they’re coming back detached from your face,” Kennedy says loudly.

Xander’s response makes Faith smile slightly. “Fistbump for Christmas?”

“Mmm,” Buffy says against Faith’s neck, snuggling in closer, “sounds like we’re the last ones up.”

“Mhmm,” Faith says, making no move to get up. She strokes Buffy’s back lazily. In the hall, footsteps start in their direction. “Did we remember to lock the—”

“Hey, sleepyheads, time to g—oh!” Willow stands in the doorway, smiling from ear to ear as she sees them.

Groaning, Buffy hides her face in Faith’s shoulder. “Why does nobody knock in this family?”

They’re both mostly clothed, so Faith doesn’t bother moving. She smiles sunnily in Willow’s direction. “Morning, Red. Nice pajamas.” Apparently not even Willow escaped Dawn’s clutches this year.

“Are they getting up?” Dawn calls. “I wanna do presents!”

“She does this every year.” Buffy’s complaint is muffled by the pillow. “No respect for the hours I have to keep. She wakes me up at the crack of dawn.”

“It’s 11:15,” Faith says.

“And you weren’t out slaying,” Willow says. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she adds, “Guessing you were up late doing something else though…”

Pulling the pillow out from under her head, Faith whips it in Willow’s direction, hitting her in the stomach.

Laughing, Willow kicks it back in the room. “I can hold her off another 5, 10 minutes tops. Also Giles is making pancakes. If you don’t get out here soon, Kennedy will eat ‘em all.”

“Hey!”

“We’ll be out in 10,” Faith says.

Willow nods, gripping the doorknob. Before she closes the door, she smiles warmly and flashes Faith a thumbs up sign.

Rolling her eyes, Faith turns to Buffy. She drops a kiss on her shoulder. “I’m gonna go clean up.”

“You need to,” Buffy says, peeking one eye open. “You’ve got sex hair.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Well, it’s not my fault it’s so pullable,” Buffy says. To illustrate her point, she winds her fingers in Faith’s hair and tightens her grip.

Faith’s stomach flip flops. “You’re gonna make us late for pancakes.”

“Don’t care.”

“The next person through that door is gonna be your sister.”

Buffy loosens her grip. “Fine,” she says, sounding seriously grumpy. 

Leaning in, Faith kisses her pouting lips. “Does it help if I tell you I have another present under the tree for you?”

Brightening, Buffy nods. “I have another for you too. Not as cool as the first.”

“Same.”

Buffy frees her hand from Faith’s hair, moving to cup her neck instead. “You already gave me a pretty amazing gift,” she says softly.

“More like five if I recall correctly,” Faith says, leering.

“Not what I meant, pervert.” She shoves Faith’s shoulder.

Catching her hand, Faith lifts it and kisses her knuckles. “I know,” she says. “This one definitely ranks up there among my best Christmases ever too.” Pulling away reluctantly, Faith pushes the blankets aside and swings her legs over the side of the bed.

“I’d love to know what competition I have,” Buffy says, rolling on her side and propping her head in her hand so she can watch Faith.

“Got a two-wheeler one year,” Faith says, collecting her discarded pajamas. “Cherry red, super shiny. That’s some stiff competition there.” She shuffles to her suitcase, pulling out clean underwear and a t-shirt to wear under her pajama top.

“Well,” Buffy says sweetly, “Christmas isn’t over yet. I’ll have to see what I can do to tip the scales.”

Clothes in hand, Faith comes back and leans over the bed, kissing Buffy. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Buffy’s hand squeezes her wrist before she can pull away. “Count on it,” she says, kissing Faith again. Her palm lands a stinging smack to Faith’s ass as Faith gets back off the bed.

Laughing, Faith swats at her hand and straightens up. As she starts for the bathroom, her eyes land on the bedside table. The little wood cube sits there, no longer displaying any carvings. It’s smooth on all sides, inert once more. They’ll need to pick the damn thing up with tongs and lock it in a box at the castle so it can’t cause any more trouble. Still, she thinks, pausing at the bathroom door to look back at Buffy, this is one gift horse whose mouth she won’t be looking in. She finally has everything she wants.