POV Buffy

I look up at the flashing neon sign and grimace. "And we're sure this is where she works?" I glance over at Willow who definitely looks interested in our surroundings. I'm sure the neon naked lady sign has something to do with it. Honestly, it doesn't get any classier than this.

She nods once, but doesn't look over at me. Damn naked lady sign. "All the pay stubs for the past year say this is the place," she reminds me.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, annoyed by the situation we're in. "Remind me again why we couldn't just call, or send an email...or a singing telegram?" I ask exasperated.

"Buffy, I know there's still all sorts of bad blood between you two, but she's only the one who can do this. And since the two of you haven't exactly been best friends since Sunnydale fell… We're better off having our little pow-wow face to face."

"But why couldn't we send Giles, or Xander, or Andrew or…anyone but me?"

"You know it has to be you, Buff," Willow tries to reason with me. "She can't say no to you."

I shake my head. "It doesn't make sense, Wills. I mean…she doesn't feel that way for me. Not anymore – she couldn't."

Willow looks a mixture of smug and amused. "Then how come every time we've needed her in the past she hasn't said no?"

"I don't know!" I throw my hands up, frustrated. "Duty? Sacred Calling? Does that ring a bell?"

"Keep telling yourself that, cutie," she clucks. "Come on." Willow grabs my hand and begins to drag me toward the front door. "And who knows? This might actually be fun. I haven't been to a strip club in a while."

"You what?"

+++++++++++++

Suggested listening: "She Lives in My Lap" – OutKast

Okay, so this is what a strip club looks like. It's, uh, darker than I thought it would be? I squint into the darkness, willing my eyes to adjust to the sudden loss of light. I guess it makes sense why these places don't have windows. Not that I want to see things better, but I just, um, don't want to break my neck falling down a hidden staircase or something.

The club's not that busy, but I guess it's pretty early. I mean, not that I'm an expert on peak strip club hours, but I'm guessing dinnertime isn't it. There's a single stage in the center of the room, and a girl is – oh my God, what is she doing to that pole? I'm grateful for the darkness otherwise I'm sure Willow would completely tease me for how red my face is right now.

A sudden thought flashes into my head. What if she's not even working? What if today is her day off and I've just been traumatized for no good reason? Oh, this is so not turning out well. Wait, where the hell did Willow go? My gaze trails back down to the center stage and my eyes catch on a flash of red hair. Oh no. I so did not need to see that either. I'm seriously scarred for life.

Okay, Buffy. Pull it together. You can do this. If I were a bartender where would I be?

I don't need any special neon signs to tell me that the girl behind the bar is the woman I've been searching for. Even though she's facing away from me, ringing up a bill at the cash register, I still know it's her. Strong defined shoulders, long cascading brunette hair, narrow waist that curves dangerously, ending at one hell of an ass. Damn. That is one short leather skirt. I'd know that ass anywhere. Plus don't forget all those delicious tingles. I'm half surprised she hasn't turned around yet. But maybe…maybe she can't feel me like I still feel her.

I clear my throat, hoping to dislodge the frog that's taken residency in the passageway. "So what does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?"

I can see her shoulders immediately tense underneath her tight white tank top. Her voice comes out ragged, having lost none of its huskiness. "Normally I'd suggest a lap dance, but something tells me that ain't your style."

She turns to face me, and I swear my pulse races just a little bit faster as I gaze at her face again after all this time. Her features show no emotion, but just one look into her chocolate-colored eyes tells me all I need to know. She's not happy to see me.

"Tell me why I shouldn't be kicking your ass right now," she asks, her voice low and cold.

"We need you." I pause, wetting my lips. "I need you."

My choice of pronoun makes her face soften a little, but I still see the venom in her eyes.

"What kind of shenanigans have you gotten yourself into this time?" she asks, crossing her arms across her chest. My eyes inadvertently stray towards said chest, but I quickly catch myself and snap my eyes back up to her face. But apparently it wasn't stealthy enough since her lips are now forming a well-practiced smirk.

"There's this mystic gate. And we need to open it." I allow myself a tired sigh, letting my guard down momentarily. It's been a long few months trying to figure out this mystical do-hickey. "Will's got some connections who are gabbing about a prophecy –"

"Another apocalypse?" Faith interrupts. She grabs a beer from underneath the bar and slides it in my direction. I give her a small smile of thanks and take a quick drink.

"No, nothing as exciting as that; just your standard prophecy. And it says that the Slayer is the only one who can open the portal. And I tried, but I can't. And some of the other Slayers tried, and they can't do it either."

"Buffy." Willow races up next to me, failing to acknowledge the girl on the other side of the bar. "Do you, uh, have any…." she trails off. I thrust a handful of singles into the palm of her hand, and her face lights up like a kid in a candy store. And as quickly as she appeared, she scampers back to her perch near the center stage.

"Looks like Red's no stranger to strip clubs," Faith grunts nodding in the direction of the stage. No amount of money could ever get me to look in the direction of my long-time friend and further traumatize myself, so I stare at my beer bottle instead, which is quickly gathering condensation.

"So, uh, anyway," I continue. I'd practiced this speech during our flight from Scotland, but now that I'm here, and she's here, the words are getting caught in my throat. "The Slayer line runs through you, not me, since, I – ah – died a few times. So we're thinking that you're the only one who can do this."

"And why can't one of the newbies do it?" she asks, emptying an ashtray into a garbage can. "They're all Slayer-fied, aren't they?"

I shake my head. "It's all guesses at this point, but we think it's because they were never Called the old-fashioned way. Willow and the scythe unlocked their powers, not the PTBs."

She's not saying anything, and I know I have to swallow my pride and grovel a little. As much as it hurts my Slayer-sized ego, she is our best hope at this point.

"Listen, I know that you've got your own life now and that it doesn't include us –"

"Buffy, your lives never involved me in the first place, so why should that be changing now?" She doesn't sound angry at all, just tired.

I'm not sure what to say, so I take another swig from the beer bottle, willing my brain to come up with some way to convince her to help. God, I hope this isn't enchanted beer, I suddenly worry. That's the last thing I need right now. And Willow's probably getting a lap dance and would completely miss the fact that I suddenly turned Neanderthal. Oh God, I need to get out of this place.

Faith's looking at me expectantly and I realize I should probably say something.

"Do I have to beg?" Okay, anything but that. This really is cursed beer.

"Not exactly what I had in mind, Peaches," she winks. "But I do seem to have that affect on women." Now she's giving me that patented dimpled grin. Damn that's some smile. Seriously. Someone needs to remind me why didn't I jump into bed with her the first chance I got.

She runs her fingers through her hair and looks up at an illuminated clock on the wall. "I'm not supposed to get off for a while, but I'll get one of the girls to take over for me."

I offer another half-smile, trying to amend for years of wronged parties. We're doing really well so far. No one's punched anyone in the face or anything. "Do you have someplace more, um, window-y we could go to talk?" I ask.

She scrunches her face into a frown. "Yeah, I guess we could go to mine."

Of course she has an apartment. Why the hell didn't we just track her down there! I'm so going to kill Willow for bringing me here. Sneaky lesbian.

"Okay," I nod, standing up from the barstool. "Lemme just drag Wills away from the strippers and we can go."

++++++++++++++++++

Lyrics to "Not Tonight" by Tegan and Sara

The three women exited the strip club, which had become more crowded as the night wore on. Since Buffy and Willow had taken a cab, Faith begrudgingly offered them a ride back to her walk-up so they could continue talking about this new prophecy.

The two Scotland-residents lingered behind a little, allowing the brunette to lead them toward her parked black Dodge Challenger. With its black tinted windows and chrome rims, it was a far cry from the humble vehicles the two had gotten used to seeing across the pond. Willow released a low whistle of appreciation. "Nice ride, Slayer."

Faith smirked. "Sorry, Red. You're not my type," she joked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Unlocking the doors, the raven-haired slayer slid into the leather interior, enjoying the smell and feel of the material against her skin. Buffy scrambled into the front seat despite her best friend's protests and immediately buckled her seatbelt.

Faith chuckled to herself at the blonde's antics. Despite having the weight of the world on her shoulders, there had always been a child-like quality to the elder Slayer. Faith reached across the blonde to put her large rimmed sunglasses into the glove box. She inwardly winced when the small Slayer bristled at the close contact. "Relax, Buffy," she mumbled, clearly offended by the slender woman's knee-jerk reaction. "Not gonna gut ya or something."

Checking her rear-view mirror to make sure the redhead was settled comfortably in the backseat, Faith cranked up the radio and put the car into gear before peeling out of the strip club's small parking lot and onto the crowded streets of Chicago.

The three women sat in silence as Faith expertly maneuvered her way down the busy parkway. Buffy stared out the window, looking at the lights that adorned the lakeshore. Willow sat in the backseat quietly picking at the material of her flow-y dress. The silence was annoying the brunette, so she began to hum along softly with the music.

Love, pull your sore ribs in/ I will pull your tangles out/ In the back of your car I feel like/ I have traveled nowhere….

"Oh!" the powerful Wicca squealed, recognizing the song. "Tegan and Sara!"

Faith looked in the rearview mirror, catching the witch's eye. "Yea, I've seen them a few times when they come to town. Pretty cool sound."

Willow nodded in agreement. "Plus you can't go wrong with cute Canadian lesbian sisters. Or did I just over-share?"

Faith chuckled at the awkward woman's outburst. She got a good vibe from Willow tonight, like they'd finally moved beyond their high school years. But she glanced over at the elder slayer who continued to look out the window in silence. "You okay there, Buffy? Kinda quiet…."

The blonde looked at the driver briefly before returning her eyes back to the shoreline scene. "Mmm…long flight, I guess," she offered as an excuse.

Faith shrugged, and went back to singing along with the radio, this time joined by her backseat passenger.

Everything in my body says not tonight/ Everything in my body says no/ What will bring me home/ What will make me stay…

After a few miles of driving, Faith turned the car down a tree lined one-way street, pausing slightly as the car wretched over a few speed humps before pulling over to the side and putting the car in park.

"Here we are," she mumbled, grabbing her keys from the ignition. Exiting the car, she stretched her legs, not necessarily because she was stiff from the short commute, but more out of nervousness to again be in the presence of these two women.

She jammed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and led her unexpected visitors up a set of concrete stairs leading to the front of a modest three-story brick walk-up. It wasn't fancy or anything, but the modest apartment was certainly an improvement on the kind of digs she'd inhabited over the past two decades.

Fiddling nervously with the keys, she managed to unlock front door. Taking a deep breath, she entered the apartment.

"Take off your shoes, yeah?" the brunette grunted, pulling her black leather boots off her feet and discarding them on the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

Buffy raised her eyebrows when she noticed several pairs of high-heeled shoes neatly lined up on a throw rug. "That's incredibly un-Faith-like," she mused, admiring a pair of Jimmy Choos from afar.

Faith silently led the women down a long corridor, passing several closed doors. As they walked further into the apartment, the sounds of quiet jazz filled the air, joined with the scent of what smelled like fresh garlic and tomato.

"Dinner's almost ready," came a soft feminine voice from somewhere in the apartment.

The three women continued walking toward the voice until they found its owner in the kitchen. A lithe blonde dressed in only a black lace bra and matching lace boi shorts stood in front of a stovetop, staring down into a giant pot of pasta sauce, with a glass of red wine in her slender hand.

"You're a little early tonight, babe. I just put some garlic bread in the –" She stopped when she looked up from the range and saw the group.

Both Willow and Buffy gasped when they saw the barely-clad girl's facial features. Long straight blonde hair, penetrating blue eyes, but the resemblance to the eldest Slayer was uncanny. It was almost like staring at the Buffy-bot.

"Okay, now this is awkward," mumbled the redheaded witch, glancing nervously at her best friend trying to gauge her reaction.

A frown crossed the mystery blonde's delicate features and she dropped a tomato sauce-covered spoon angrily on the stovetop.

"I can't believe you brought her here to our apartment!" the woman shouted. "You promised me you were done with them, Faith."

"Baby, I was, but you gotta understand," Faith coaxed, back-peddling. "It's just that they need me for something. And I'm the only one…"

The woman crossed her arms across her chest, accentuating her cleavage, and narrowed her piercing blue eyes. "There you go with the selfless martyr act again. Faith, I can't believe this."

"Baby…" Faith started again, her dark chocolate eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"And you've got a whole lotta nerve showing your face around here," the woman steamed, point a finger at a startled Buffy. "After all you've put my Faith through."

Before Buffy could halt her sharp tongue, the words slipped out. "Your Faith?" she spat, her words dripping with venom. Willow lightly grabbed onto the blonde Slayer's forearm as if wordlessly pleading for her to stop.

The woman narrowed her eyes and quickly turned and stormed away deeper into the apartment, disappearing for the moment.

Faith sat down heavily on one of the barstools at the kitchen island and rested her head in her hands. "Fuck, that went well." She sighed loudly before looking back up at the witch and the slayer who stood silent and wide-eyed.

"My, um, girlfriend," the younger slayer explained.

The sound of high heels clicking on the hardwood floor alerted the three as the woman in question reappeared, this time fully dressed. "I'm gone," she said, her voice stern. "Call me later when you've come to your senses and they're gone."

Faith stood up abruptly from the barstool and followed the woman as she stormed down the long hallway toward the front door. "C'mon, B. Don't be like this," she called after her.

Buffy's body tensed when she heard the other Slayer's words. "Wait a minute. That's my nickname. Who does this trollop think she is stealing my nickname and Faith?"

Willow and Buffy jumped slightly when they heard the front door slam loudly. "God damn it," yelled the Boston native.

After a short moment, the brunette returned to the kitchen, frowning.

"So did you meet your latest fling at your place of employment?" Buffy's arms were crossed across her chest, her voice cool and steely. Willow looked at her friend with renewed shock, surprised by her tone and words.

"She's not a stripper if that's what you're asking, Buffy," Faith growled. The blonde winced hearing the former rogue Slayer continuing to call her by her given name. "Bree's got her head on right, okay? She's got a tight financial job down in the Loop."

"Oh, so a patron of your place of business then," Buffy taunted, putting a hand on her slender hip.

Faith stomped over to the range and turned off the oven and top burners. "Goddamn it, would you lay off her already?" she grumbled. "It's nice to know you've still got that stake wedged way up your tight ass. Thought by now someone woulda pried it outta there."

Buffy smiled cruelly. "And it's nice to know you're still –"

"Would you two stop it already?" bellowed the witch. Both Faith and Buffy hung their heads, looking ashamed. It had been far too easily to slip back into their former roles as enemies.

Faith cleared her throat nervously. "So…. pasta anyone?" she offered. The two visitors looked mildly shocked at the younger slayer's abrupt change of topic.

"Listen," she started, holding her hands open as a sign of truce. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I smell like smoke and booze. The last thing I wanna do is spend the night arguing with y'all," she explained "Lemme just grab a quick shower and we can tuck into some food." She gestured toward the stovetop. "No sense in lettin' all this go to waste."

Buffy and Willow looked at each other, not talking but not protesting either.

"I'll be back in a couple minutes," Faith continued. "Have a seat. Take a load off. Make yourself at home. All that shit. Just don't go rifling through my drawers or nothin'"

Faith gave a small wave and left the two women for the back half of the apartment and presumably toward the bathroom. The sound of a shower being turned on soon followed.

Willow sat down on one of the barstools and turned toward her friend. "By the way, Buff," she started. "Green so isn't your color."

The small blonde's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Huh? I have it on very good authority that I look good in every color…except maybe pumpkin orange, but really…who does look good in that?"

The witch shook her head and laughed lightly at her friend's naivety. "You know what I mean, Summers. The Green-Eyed Monster?"

"Me? Jealous? Of what…that tarty little blonde? No way. They so can't be serious about each other. Seriously…Faith with a girlfriend? She was always 'get some and get gone' girl."

Willow shrugged. "Well? Maybe people change. I mean, not necessarily you people, but some people do. So I've heard. Rumor has it."

Buffy sat down on a barstool as well and stuck her bottom lip out in a well-practiced pout. "She's not supposed to go and get all couple-y with other girls though," the blonde complained. "She's supposed to wait for me to finally come to my senses and tell her I want her and then she's supposed to be like 'Gee whiz, Buffy. I'm so glad you finally came around. Let's go do the naughty now.'" Buffy covered her face with her hands. "God, I'm such a selfish idiot. Why would I ever assume she'd wait for me forever?"

The hardwood floor creaked as Faith returned from the shower, clad in a small towel, her hair wet, the damp brown curls framing her face. Buffy looked up suddenly from her hands, nervous that perhaps the Boston Slayer had overheard her words. Her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, however, as she allowed them to appreciatively wander over the barely-covered woman, her vivid imagination filling in the blanks where cotton towel shadowed the younger woman's most intimate parts.

"Sorry I'm not much of a hostess," the former rogue Slayer apologized as she padded into the kitchen. Reaching up into a wooden cabinet, she grabbed for two wine glasses. Buffy found herself willing the brunette's small towel to creep just a little further up the shapely woman's form as the Boston girl stood on her tiptoes to reach the stem-wear. When the slightest hint of a well-curved backside appeared under the offending material, Buffy looked away quickly, blushing furiously. She glanced toward the redhead who appeared equally flustered.

Seemingly unaware of her unexpected company's gawking, the young slayer set two large wine glasses on the granite countertop and poured her visitors a drink. "I'll be back in a minute…just gotta slip into something less comfortable," she stated motioning toward her bath towel. "Then we can have some grub, yea?" Faith turned away and returned to the back of the apartment.

A small smile crept onto the witch's face. "Can I just say 'hubba-hubba'?"

"Willow!" chastised the small Slayer, lightly slapping her friend's shoulder. "You're not supposed to be checking her out!"

"What? I've got eyes, don't I?" protested the other woman. "And I'm a lesbian! I think that makes me plenty qualified to be checking her out."

"She's got a girlfriend!" hissed the blonde.

"And a hot one at that too," admired the witch, taking a casual sip from her wine glass.

"Wait a minute! You're supposed to be on my side!" the blonde slayer chided, pushing her bottom lip out in yet another pout.

"Oh, c'mon, Buffy. Are you blind?" Willow huffed, setting down her glass. "The girl looks exactly like you!"

"She so does not," Buffy protested, still pouting. "I have a much better body than that hussy."

"Again with the Green-Eyed Monster," clucked Willow. "Did you happen to check out her face? She's like…the mirror image of you!"

Buffy wrinkled her forehead in thought. "So what's that supposed to mean?"

"Duh!" exclaimed her best friend. She dropped her voice to a low hush. "It means that when she's fucking her girlfriend, she's wishing it were you."

"Willow!" gasped the blonde, nearly dropping her wine glass with a loud clatter.

"You two okay in there?" called the brunette from the back the apartment. "No food fights, yeah? Bree's pissed off enough."

"We're fine, Faith!" replied the witch cheerily.

Their hostess finally reappeared from the back half of the comfortable apartment, this time in a white a-frame tank top and short cotton pajama shorts. She rubbed her hands together anxiously. "So, hope you guys are hungry. Bree makes a wicked tomato sauce."

Willow cleared her throat and nervously eyeballed her best friend to gauge her reaction at the mention of the other woman. "So, um, Faith. How did you and Bree meet?"

The shapely woman pulled three plates from a cupboard and set them down on the kitchen island. "Oh, you know…was out at a bar in the Loop with some friends before I had to go to work. It was Happy Hour or something and she was there too with some co-workers. Had on this hot little business suit." The Boston girl looked up and smiled knowingly at the witch.

Buffy looked down at the counter-top, studying it as if she'd suddenly noticed something for the first time. Willow glanced over at her friend again anxiously, but pressed on. "So you hit on her?" she asked bluntly.

Faith chuckled deep in her throat as she rummaged through the silverware drawer for the appropriate utensils. "Naw, Bree's totally not a damsel in distress type. Damn girl fucking bought me a drink. Girlfriend's gotta pair if you didn't notice from our little confrontation earlier."

Buffy took a long drink from her wine glass, willing herself to get drunk quickly so she could pass out and forget this night had ever happened. Here she had expected to swoop into Chicago and demand that Faith help them out. But what she found instead was a satisfied, confident, and definitely taken Slayer.

The former rogue Slayer began to equally dish out the noodles and marinara sauce onto the three plates. Looking up from the plates, she noticed Buffy tipping back the last bit of wine. "Atta girl, Buffy. I always knew there was a wild child in there somewhere." The Boston girl winked playfully at her former nemesis.

Buffy set the stemware back on the countertop and looked away guiltily. "Was thirsty," she mumbled, excusing herself.

Willow winced inwardly. She hated seeing her friend like this, but part of her was glad that Buffy was getting to experience this side of Faith. The dark Slayer surprised the witch. Gone was the sarcasm and impenetrable wall of emotional defenses. Maybe without all the animosity and venom, the Chosen Two could finally get over the past and finally get it on. Now she just had to do something about this Faith-has-a-girlfriend issue.

"Aight, here you go, kids," Faith announced, interrupting Willow's thoughts. The Boston woman grandly set the plates in front of the two women. "Dig in," she instructed, picking up her own fork.

Buffy picked at the pasta lamely with her fork, but not wanting to be rude, eventually dove into the food with enthusiasm. She and Willow hadn't really eaten anything since leaving Scotland and her hunger had unexpectedly caught up with her. Even if Faith's skanky girlfriend had made the meal, she could forget that minor detail for the moment.

The three sat in silence now, each unsure of what to say, but thankful for the distraction the food provided. Finally, Faith set down her fork on her empty plate and cleared her throat. "So this portal," she began. "What's on the other side?" She poured herself another glass of wine and shifted on the barstool, trying to get more comfortable.

Buffy looked lost in thought, staring at the younger woman's bare legs, so Willow stepped in to salvage the situation. "It's ah, we're not quite sure. But the Coven contacted us that it would be in our best interest to get whatever's on the other side before anyone else discovered it."

Faith frowned a little. "So you want to open up this Pandora's Box without knowing what's on the other side? I didn't think that was your guys' style. What if it's a fake prophecy planted to trap the Slayer?"

Willow nodded in understanding. "I know, and we've really thought about that. But all our research indicates that this is the real deal, not some phony carrot of evil."
Faith looked over at the blonde Slayer. "Buffy? You okay? You're damn quiet tonight." The raven-haired Slayer ran her fingers through her still damp tresses. "It's kinda weirding me out, honestly. Sure it's nice not fighting, but I think I might actually prefer that to this silent treatment."

"Just…thinking is all..." Buffy muttered pushing the final few noodles around on her plate.

Faith looked over at the blonde's best friend, but Willow only shrugged and drained the contents of her wine glass.

"So I guess we should be getting back to our hotel," Buffy mumbled, feeling suddenly awkward. All this talk about Faith's girlfriend had made her stomach feel rumbly. She looked up from her plate and met her former nemesis' dark chocolate irises. Where once there had been rage and pain and betrayal, now contained seemingly no emotion at all. "Could you just, um, point us in the right direction or get a number for a cab or something?"

Faith scrunched her eyebrows together in thought. "You guys don't need to go back downtown tonight if you don't want to – it's kind of a pain living in a city this big, honestly," the brunette insisted. "Takes forever to get anywhere and cab's are just a rip-off when you've got the El." She sighed, realizing she had been rambling. "Bree's probably staying at her sister's tonight, so why don't you guys take our bed, and I'll crash on the couch. I'm sure I can dig up some sleeping clothes for ya'll too, no big deal."

Buffy looked at the younger woman as if seeing her for the first time. "When did she get all nice and thoughtful?" she mused to herself.

The small blonde glanced over at the witch to assess her reaction to the Boston Slayer's offer. Willow had never been a fan of the dark girl, but for some reason tonight she had been nothing but friendly. "Sneaky lesbian," Buffy thought. "She's up to something, I can sense it."

"What do ya think, Will? Sleepover?" the elder Slayer asked.

"Yea, that sounds great; after all that wine I'm feeling pretty cozy here." The redhead yawned for good measure and stretched her arms above her head.

Faith chuckled darkly. "Careful, Red. Don't let this one take advantage of ya tonight, eh?" she teased nodding in the direction of the California Slayer.

Willow suddenly squeaked and sat up a little straighter in her chair. "Oh! Wine makes me snore! You guys had better let me take the couch otherwise you're gonna have a grumpy Slayer in the morning. There's no way Buffy will get any sleep with me snoring away. Plus I kick. And hog the covers. And I have this bad back. So, yeah, I'd better take the couch," she babbled nervously.

Faith looked skeptically at the redheaded Wicca, one eyebrow raised. "You sure about that? I guarantee that the bed is more comfortable than that old couch in there. I've done enough time on it being in the doghouse."

Willow nodded emphatically. "I'm totally sure. Believe me, it's for the best."

The dark-haired Slayer shrugged. "Alright, I'm cool with that." She looked over at the blonde and smiled mischievously. "Looks like it's just you and me then, Buff."

The small woman's mouth opened and closed as she stared at the brunette beauty, but no words or sounds came out.

"I'm gonna grab you some blankets, Red. Be right back." Faith stood and exited the room, leaving the two friends behind.

As soon as Faith disappeared down the hallway, Buffy grabbed onto the witch's wrist. "What do you think you're doing?" she whispered angrily.

"Giving you a chance to win back that goddess, that's what," her best friend whispered in reply. "You can thank me later when you and she pop out some adorable children."

Buffy's eyes grew wide. "How am I – How do I – what am I supposed to do? In a bed with Faith? She has a girlfriend, Wills! She's not gonna want me. Plus, I don't know the first thing about stealing other people's girlfriends?" The blonde Slayer looked frantic.

"You're Buffy," Willow stated simply, patting the Chosen One on the knee. "You're the Slayer. I know you'll think of something."

+++++++++
TBC