Work Text:
Faith Lehane hasn’t seen Buffy Summers in two months.
A feat, really, considering how intertwined their lives have been up ‘til then. Y’see, Faith is teetering close to age eighteen, and what with dropping outta school on account a’ her mother’s overdose last year, she’s not got a lot goin’ on at the moment. Motel life is a nightmare, scraping together what little money she can from odd jobs and what not. Slayin’ vamps don’t count, unfortunately, in the eyes of the government. If it did, she’d have a 401k by now, a nice house on the water. At the very least, reliable electricity. Instead, she’s crushin’ an average of four cockroaches a day and prayin’ the water don’t come out brown again.
Things haven’t always been this bad, not when she slept at the Summers residence twice a week. The nights they’d slay vamps ‘til dawn, kiss as the sun broke the horizon. Nights they’d sneak back in through the window at Revello Drive and talk about life and art and unattainable dreams ‘til Joyce would begin her trek up the stairs to wake Buffy for school. Faith would hide in the closet, an action that’s almost too on the nose, and stayed there ‘til she heard the door slam. Climbing out the window wasn’t the real bitch of it, it was more the looks that uppity motherfucker who lived a few houses down would give her as she climbed into her beat up car, pretendin’ to just be pickin’ B up for school. And then they’d cruise back over to Faith’s shithole motel room, finally falling asleep in the scratchy sheets. They’d only skip for a few hours, arriving at the library with coffee and sly smiles.
“You two look chipper,” Xander had said, “What’d you do, have a vampire threesome?”
Faith had snorted, but Buffy had slapped his arm. “Don’t be gross. You know Faith and I are friends. You don’t have to project your weird porno fantasies onto us.”
“Yeah, totally,” Faith had replied, throat a bit tighter than before, “B and I are peas in a pod. We ain’t eatin’ box or nothin’, though.”
Giles had interrupted them, thank god, before Cordelia had the chance to ask what eating box entailed.
Their time together was like that. Secretive, but otherwise a certain kind’a perfect. Well, maybe not perfect. The sneakin’ around wasn’t ideal, nor the constant jumping through hoops to prove they weren’t nothin’ more than friends.
Now they ain’t even that.
Giles calls close to 2AM. Faith is, unsurprisingly, still awake.
“What do you want?” She spits, cracking her knuckles one by one in a coping mechanism for her anxiety. Giles ain’t called her on a Saturday night in weeks, knowing that’s Buffy’s night for patrolling.
“I- well, as you might know, Buffy’s… well, she’s usually got the weekend covered on her own since… whatever it was that happened between you ladies. But it seems she’s not feeling well tonight and can’t patrol. Of course, I’m learning this late but-”
“G-man, I’m already grabbin’ my stakes. Say no more.”
“Thanks, Faith. I- well, I do hope you’re fairing alright. I suppose I could talk to Buffy for you-”
“Don’t. She don’t want nothin’ to do with me, and I don’t blame her.”
Giles sighs, but doesn’t push. She likes that about the guy. He don’t get involved in business that don’t concern him.
Patrolling is in her blood. It’s calming, the way she can turn her problems to dust. Faith wishes all her fuckin’ traumas were that simply dealt with. Vamps are a hell of a lot easier to deal with than her personal life. Sometimes she likes to label the suckers. Vamp number one has the honor of representin’ her commitment issues, and when he’s dusted she pretends she can feel a weight off her shoulders. Bloodsucker number two is her fear of being known, numbers three, four and five can be the whole mess that is her sexuality. She’s got vamp dust in her hair by the time she’s strollin’ towards the last graveyard of the night. It’s not her fault that it’s on this side of town, that this just happens to be the best shortcut to her destination.
Revello drive at 4am ain’t like she remembers, but maybe that’s because the last time she was here was early autumn, and tonight, the promise of winter is heavy in the air. It looks like there’s new flowers in the flower beds, pink and blue and for some reason, the physical reminder of how much time has passed knocks the wind out of her.
Buffy’s lamp is on in her bedroom, Faith notices from the cracked blinds on the second floor. Her mind wanders, unproductively, to why the hell B could be awake this time of night if she ain’t patrolling. Maybe she’s reminiscing on how things used to be, that Christ awful sleep schedule that was gonna end up killin’ them someday. Or maybe she’s got someone else scalin’ her drainage pipe to the second floor window. Lord knows she deserves it; Faith ain’t one who should be getting in the way.
She walks down and out of Revello drive, and can almost swear she sees the light go out from the corner of her eye.
The library is real quiet without the Scoobies.
The ladies in the office have always kinda just assumed she’s a student, and don’t bother asking for her ID. Just a quick wave and she enters Sunnydale High and makes a beeline for the stacks, knowing full well if B’s at school, she’ll be in English. She’ll be safe in the library on her own for at least forty five minutes.
The stacks, for some reason, are makin’ her claustrophobic, somethin’ she ain’t never really experienced. Maybe it’s just that it’s been a while.
Maybe ‘cause it’s been since that night.
Clearly, homecoming had been a mistake. It was a silly, offhand comment. A joke, really, when Faith asked if she planned on going.
“Dunno,” Buffy smirked, her lip gloss smeared with Faith’s dark lipstick. Faith had found it beyond endearing, distracting enough that she barely caught on that B was still talking, “Waiting for someone to ask me.”
Faith’s mouth went dry real fast. “Ask you, huh?” She swallowed, “And would this person… be seen with you?”
Buffy’s gaze faltered, and Faith knew she fucked up. She should have just ended it there. Could’ve fixed everything if she’d just laughed it off as a stupid fuckin’ joke.
But Buffy continued, “Well, we could go together. People will just assume it’s as friends.”
“Yeah, friends who lick each other’s-”
“Faith,” Buffy glares at her, a hard edge to her voice that Faith fuckin’ hates, “You know how I feel about…- I just want to wait til college. You know how my mom is. How Xander is.” She’d taken her hand, grip soft and warm. Faith pulled away.
“Whatever.” She grumbled, standing up and grabbing her bag. She avoided her eye. “You should get going to class. I need to get training before Giles starts looking for us. Think it’d kill the old man to catch us gettin’ busy in the stacks.”
She heard Buffy whisper her name, but she didn’t turn around.
Things were tense, and then they weren’t, the way things usually were when the secrecy started gnawing away at Faith’s insecurities. They picked out dresses, with Faith’s of the Goodwill variety. Still looked cute as hell, with a black choker to bring the look together. They drove in together, stopping by the library first to get touchy feely in their special spot where no one ever looked for them. Buffy’s lip gloss had gotten fucked up again, in that way that squeezed Faith’s heart like a tight hug after a long day. She’d giggled as Faith fixed her makeup for her, and when Buffy took it upon herself to fix her dark tresses, Faith can pinpoint that moment as the last time she smiled at her.
The moment they left the library, Buffy dropped her hand. It bothered her, considerin’ they’d been holdin’ hands for thirty goddamn minutes and now her hand was cold and sweaty.
The gym was crowded, real crowded, full’a teens and hormones and hidden flasks in dress pants and strapless bras. Buffy immediately gravitated toward her friends and Faith was left to tag along a few feet behind her. Nervous sweat started pricklin’ the skin at the back of her neck, and she kicked herself for havin’ asked her in the library. Coulda been back at the Summers residence, with a VHS from Blockbuster and hands creepin’ under pajama tops. Instead, she had to watch Buffy treat her like an afterthought.
Faith was three swigs of her flask in when Buffy casually danced beside her, oblivious to the nightmare going on in the former’s brain.
“Hey,” She said, barely audible over the music, “You having fun?”
“Loads,” Faith sipped her drink again, and Buffy frowned.
“Listen. I know this isn’t ideal, but when we’re done here, we’ll go to your place and-”
And then came Scott Hope.
Faith could liken the boy’s appearance to a terminally ill newsie, and even that was oversellin’ him. Yet the boy had the nerve to come up and ask to cut in, offerin’ Buffy his hand, and before either of them could respond, Willow chimed in from a few feet away.
“She’d love to!” Willow came over to nudge her, and Buffy’d given her a briefly apologetic glance before taking him hand. Faith’s ears were ringin’, the room was spinnin’, and everything was happenin’ too fast. Within the next ten minutes, she found herself leaning against the wall, knowin’ the sea of people was only makin’ her feel worse. She couldn’t just leave, not even with her girl in some guy’s arms. Faith promised Buffy a ride home, and a promise was all she really had to offer, most of the time.
The flask was startin’ to feel real light when things really fell to shit.
Her name was Kennedy.
It started innocently. Kennedy asked for a swig, Faith gave her one. Kennedy asked for a dance, Faith gave her one. Kennedy’s hands fell to her hips, and Faith’s automatically got her arms around her neck.
She only realized Kennedy was leanin’ in for a kiss as her lips slotted against her own.
And a’ course that’s when Buffy stopped dancin’ with the resurrected corpse of a Victorian orphan.
She doesn’t want to relive the rest, doesn’t wanna think about how Buffy had insisted she could walk home, how she’d cried even when she convinced her to get in the damn car. She doesn’t wanna remember the way Buffy hadn’t even looked back as she slammed her car door the moment they came to a stop on Revello drive.
Hot tears are fuckin’ with her makeup before she realizes, and she’s gotta be quick to wipe them before her eyeliner runs. It’s not as though she hasn’t been replayin’ every single thing that went wrong between them. It ain’t like Buffy wanted to hide- Joyce made it pretty clear how she felt about the gay community with her stupid little remarks every now and then about her sister-in-law and her partner. Faith respected that Buffy hadn’t had the option to just be with her- not until they were far away from Joyce Summers’s house.
“You can’t blame me,” she’d yelled in the car, something she regretted even as she said it, “For wanting someone who’s not embarrassed to be seen with me in public! You can’t just expect me to be your dirty little secret while you dance with fuckin’ Casper the sickly ghost!”
“I’m not embarrassed of you! You know I lo-... I cared about you.” She said bitterly, tears shining bright in her eyes.
“Past tense, huh?” Faith’s voice had cracked, like a goddamn preteen boy, and Buffy remained stoic.
She slammed the door on her way out; out of her car, out of her life.
Until now.
She thinks it’s her ears playin’ some sick trick on her. Buffy don’t often skip class, not even for demon-related activity. Usually the G-man is on her about her academics like that. But no, she’d know that goddamn sunshiney voice anywhere.
“I don’t even want to have a party. There’s no point.”
She hears Red, next, her timid little whines as frustrating as ever, “Buffy, c’mon. You’ve been so down in the dumps, lately. Cake and ice cream always helps me.”
“Cake and ice cream can’t fix this.”
“What is ‘this?’”
A pause. Faith wants to vomit. “I can’t explain it. It doesn’t matter.”
“Buffy,” Willow sighs, “You’re having a birthday party. No if, and’s or buts. Faith can take care of patrolling; maybe she can stop by? I haven’t seen her around.”
“Yeah, like that would happen.” Buffy snaps, and Faith’s stomach twists so hard she’d positive she’ll be bent over a toilet in the next two minutes. “She’s not coming. Wouldn’t even if you invited her. Don’t bother.”
And that’s the gut punch that has her bolting to the back of the library and climbing out the fucking window.
It’s cold, at least for Cali, but Faith’s got pit stains for sure. Hearin’ her voice again, her voice sayin’ her name for Christ’s sake, has her blood pumpin’ like mad. She wants to run back in, to tell her of fuckin’ course she’d go to her stupid birthday party, she’d get her whatever she fuckin’ wanted if she’d take her back. And then, the more logical part of her, the smaller voice in her head reminds her that Faith Lehane ain’t no dirty secret to be kept. She ain’t keepin’ secrets to keep B around, not again.
But maybe it’s worth one more shot.
New Years Eve goes by in a haze, with fireworks going off as she beats this week’s pussy ass demon to a bloody pulp. Once the fucker explodes into a gooey puddle of slime, she rummages through her bag to pull out a cheap beer, using the closest headstone as a bottle opener.
“Happy New Year,” She says aloud to no one in particular, knocking back the bottle and finishing it in a record thirty seconds. Puts the empty bottle back in her bag, a stupid fuckin’ habit she picked up from patrolling with B. Didn’t fuck around with littering, that one. Faith guesses part of her brain is always convinced maybe this’ll be the night B shows face, and doesn’t want to start out on a worse foot than they already are.
The walk back to her motel is short, but she decides to make it long. Walks all around Sunnydale, bag full’a stakes and pepper spray in case anyone dares try something. But no one does, and so she walks, and walks, and walks ‘til she ends up exactly where she hoped not to.
Back to Revello Drive.
This time the lights in B’s window are out, which makes her assume she’s over at Wil’s or Xander’s. Makes her belly hollow and ache, but maybe that’s a good thing. B sounded fuckin’ miserable just a few weeks ago when she overhead her in the stacks. Goin’ out and celebrating is what she deserves.
Someone else is walking down the street, on the opposite sidewalk.
Faith steps into the shadows.
Blonde little braids and a pink knit cap, the leather jacket Faith had picked up for her thrift shoppin’. B is out, which is strange, because she ain’t dressed for partying. Her stake canvas sack is slung over her shoulder, her braids messy and possibly dusty. Was she patrollin’? Faith takes holidays, B knows that. No reason she should be out and about when she has a family to celebrate with.
Or maybe, she allows herself to daydream, maybe she was out looking for her.
Buffy sits on her front step, pulling something out of her bag. She’d assume it was a beer if she didn’t absolutely hate anything alcoholic that wasn’t pink and fruity.
But no. It’s a Coors Lite, the shit only Faith drinks.
It had been for her.
She wants to run out into the streetlight. To call out and tell her she fucking loves her and she’s sorry for how everything happened.
She nearly does, but her legs are frozen to the ground. So she just watches Buffy, sat down on her front porch bathed in a flickering yellow light as she sips her beer. Faith needs to do something, but maybe this isn’t the right moment. When would be, then? All she has to do is take a few steps forward and Buffy’s head would snap up. She just has to do something .
And then she gets up, heads inside, and it’s too late for Faith Lehane to get her New Years kiss from Buffy Summers.
It’s been two weeks. She’s been planning this for two whole weeks.
Faith’s left hand is methodically cracking her knuckles, the right hand preoccupied with the small gift box she’d spent far too much time wrapping. She’s got a cut on her thumb from the tape dispenser, but at least it don’t look like it was wrapped by a preschooler no more. She’s got her coat on, the tan one B always wanted to steal but Faith didn’t have the heart to explain it was the only warm jacket she owned. Her lips are painted dark, dark purple, because she knew that was B’s favorite look on her. Used to be. She hopes it still is.
It’s late, just late enough that the sun is disappearing behind the trees and the porch light is the soft yellow that memorized her on New Years Day. She hears laughing inside, hears a muffled Xander telling some story and Willow giggling and Joyce talking loudly about dinner. She even hears the G-man, scoffing at something Xander’s said, she’s sure, but the only voice she can’t pinpoint is the only reason she’s here.
Faith’s eyes are closed, and she’s picturing her face like how it was the first night they kissed, the first night they spent cuddled up tight in her twin bed. She wants to remember every look of adoration Buffy afforded her before it’s potentially destroyed by her kicking her off her porch and out of her life for good.
Her knuckles are knocking against the hollow wood of the door before she can even process what the noise is, and her mouth tastes like chalk.
The chatter dims. She hardly registers the faint, ‘I’ll get it,’ before the door opens and Buffy Summers stands in front of her, shutting the door behind her.
She’d planned out a speech. Talkin’ points to make sure she didn’t end up slammin’ the door in her face. Faith remembers absolutely none of it.
“Hey,” It’s as though her throat has decided to have an allergic reaction to the utter embarrassment she’s experiencing.
Buffy’s face remains stoic. “Hey.”
“I… happy birthday.” Faith says lamely, holding out the small present.
“I didn’t think you’d… remember.” She says quietly, but makes no move to retrieve the present. Just continues to stare at Faith, her eyes suddenly lookin’ a little glassy.
“Forget my girl’s birthday? Never.”
“Gee. Didn’t know Kennedy’s birthday was today.”
Faith’s heart lurches. “Ain’t seen her in months. Since the last time I saw you, really.”
“Well, you two seemed really cozy at homecoming.” B’s words are comin’ out thick ‘nd wet, and Faith just wants to scoop her up into a hug. She don’t, though. Just as frozen as she was January 1st.
“I fucked up, B,” And her voice breaks, and with it her walls do as well. Before she can stop it, hot tears ruin her mascara and she’s snifflin’ like a fool on the porch. “I-- she didn’t mean anything, you need to know that. I only ever wanted-...” She takes a shaky breath, “I would kiss you in the dark and love you in secret for the rest’a my goddamn life. I don’t deserve to, not anymore, but, fuck, B, I loved you so much it physically hurt to keep it inside. There were times it felt like my ribs was gonna burst open when we had to let our hands go or you had to stand at a respectable distance. When you-...”
“Dancing with him was the worst fifteen minutes of my life.” Buffy blurts, stepping forward. “His hands were so sweaty they were slipping against mine. And he kept talking about his lizards. I’m serious- talked about their heating lamp for a solid five. I just wanted to get… back to you.”
Faith’s tears are streaming down her face, burning her eyes so bad from all the eye makeup she’d caked on just a few hours prior. She can hardly see, but she can feel Buffy’s warm hands on her arms, can hear her take a step closer.
“Can I ask something? Answer honestly.” Buffy says, her words quiet. She’s close enough that those words are a warm gust against Faith’s lips, and her heart nearly stops beating.
“Anything,” Her voice don’t even sound like her own.
“Did you kiss her, or did she kiss you?”
“B, I fucked up-”
“Please tell me.”
Faith sighs, “She kissed me, but I didn’t immediately push her away. Wanted to. Girl’s lips were chapped as hell.” She pauses, then adds, “I didn’t push her away right away. A sick part a’ me wanted you to see it was… okay. For girls to kiss ‘round here. Almost wanted to make you fuckin’ jealous , cause I’m a sick fuckin’ bastard.”
Buffy’s hand tightens slightly, “You’re not sick for not wanting to hide.”
“You were worth it. If I had to hide-”
“You don’t have to hide. We don’t.”
Faith doesn’t dare get her hopes up. “B, you can’t forgive-”
“Can you forgive me for making you feel like you were something to be ashamed of?”
Buffy’s thumbs are wiping the black tears from her cheeks and the sob that escapes Faith’s throat is pathetic.
“I knew you weren’t ashamed. You just had to wait-”
“I’m done waiting, Faith.”
The kiss is bathed in the yellow flickering light of her front porch she’d been dreaming about for weeks. It’s soft, and yielding and everything she could have hoped for. Ain’t nothin’ could ruin this moment, not even Red opening the door on them to see what was takin’ Buffy so long.
“Buffy? You- oh!” Her voice is high pitched and frantic, “Oh, sorry, I- I’m sorry!”
Faith pulls away and tenses up, breaking into a sweat as she notes the mess of purple lipstick on Buffy’s mouth. There’s no way to hide, Buffy’s going to freak, she can’t get away fast enough-
Buffy kisses her again. Red has the door wide open.
Faith wraps her arms around her as tight as she can, doesn’t let go ‘til Buffy pulls away and grabs her hand. “Come on, you’re nearly past fashionably late.” She leads her inside, the entire house staring in shock. “Hey, do we have any more sodas? My girlfriend just got here and she’s a total fiend for caffeine.”
“Girlfriend?” Xander asks, mouth agape.
“ Girlfriend?” Joyce blinks, stunned.
“Girlfriend?” Faith questions, out of breath.
“Yeah. Girlfriend.” Buffy says, and her voice stays even as her hands shake tremendously. “Oh- a Mr. Fizzy. Thanks, Wil.” Buffy looks to Faith, nerves evident in her eye, “Here you are, babe.”
Faith can’t help the overwhelming urge to kiss Buffy Summers, so in an effort to keep it PG, presses her lips to her forehead. She doesn’t discount the gleeful little look Willow sends their way, or the pointedly not perceiving Giles.
“So you two have been… oh. Oh ! That makes way more sense why I kept seeing you sneaking out of the library all sweaty last year. I thought you were just using a training technique where one of you pretended to be a vampire. Those were totally just normal hickeys.” Cordelia says, casually eating her chips and dip, and Joyce excuses herself to the kitchen, clearly not drunk enough to have this conversation. Faith laughs, because that’s all she can think to do, and Buffy joins her, and soon the conversation turns to their latest demon slayage and Buffy’s new top she’d been eyeing at the mall for weeks. Faith’s arm is slung around her all damn night, Buffy’s head leans into her in a way so intoxicating that Sappho herself’s probably hella fuckin’ jealous. Faith leaves out the front door at eleven PM and finishes climbin’ the drainage pipe at eleven o’ five. By the time Buffy gets up to her room, Faith’s already in her favorite pajama shirt and cuddled up with Mr. Bear.
“Comfy?”
“Comfiest I’ve been in months, yeah.” Faith stretches out, staring at Buffy openly. Her eyes rake over every single detail of her face, the way she had wished she had before homecoming. Buffy smiles softly, heading towards the window as she takes her hair down.
“I saw you, you know.”
“Huh?”
“On New Years. I saw you. Behind the street lamp.”
Faith’s stomach sinks, but she stays silent.
“I mean, duh, Faith. We’re slayers. You know the cover of night isn’t effective for us.”
“You… didn’t say anything.”
“Neither did you. I waited, you know. To see if you’d come out.”
Faith snorts, and Buffy’s cheeks redden. “Okay, poor word choice, babe.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Buffy mumbles, climbing into bed. “Come out. You’re hilarious.”
“I wanted to,” Faith says, quiet as B turns out the bedside lamp. “I couldn’t move. Ain’t that cute? Can slaughter vamps ‘nd demons of any sort without breakin’ a sweat. But returnin’ to the girl I love? Scared me shitless.”
“I know the feeling,” Faith can hear the smile in B’s voice, and don’t that shit just send sparks down her spine.
“So, B,” Faith reaches out slightly to find a stray lock of blonde to push behind her ear, “New Years… what had you been hoping for?”
Buffy hums, “I don’t know. The cliche kiss, maybe. That’s why I went looking for you. I was tired of missing you and wishing I would have danced with you.”
“I wish I would have suggested we stay in for snacks and a movie marathon.”
“I wish we’d have gotten our New Years kiss.”
“Yeah?” Faith’s hand moves to her cheek, soft and reverent. “Your wish is my command, B.”
The way Buffy climbs on top a’ her sets fireworks off in her belly, and Faith is sure to give her enough New Years kisses to last them far into the next century.