Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Did you leave your dancing shoes at home, blondie?” a familiar raspy voice teases from somewhere behind her. The unexpected visitor startles Buffy from her melancholic thoughts and her head whips around in surprise. 

Faith leans casually against the wall near the table in the far corner where Buffy has taken up solo residence for the last twenty plus minutes, purposefully avoiding the merriment on the dance floor. She blinks blankly at the last person she thought she’d see tonight for several long seconds while she takes stock of her appearance. Faith's chestnut hair cascades down her shoulders in loose waves. She's dressed in a smart navy blouse, the top buttons undone to reveal a thin, gold chain dangling down her breast bone. Dark pants compliment the look, cuffed over Faith's trademark leather boots. Her lips are stained with a deep maroon lipstick that reminds Buffy of their younger years; she's always meant to ask Faith what brand and color she uses.

Faith meets her gaze, a dark eyebrow quirked in anticipation as if she’s waiting for Buffy to complete her assessment.

“I thought you were in Peru,” Buffy finally says, breaking the long silence held between them.

“Keepin’ tabs on me, are ya?” Faith grins as she pushes herself off the wall and ungracefully drops into the empty chair at Buffy's left.

Closer up Buffy can see the faintest evidence of exhaustion hidden beneath Faith’s standard layer of devil-may-care cockiness. There's the fading shadow of a bruise along the curve of her jaw that her concealer fails to mask and the faint hint of a scar at the edge of one eyebrow. Buffy resists the urge to reach out and swipe her fingers across both wounds, her mind idly wondering what other injuries Faith may be hiding.

“A girl starts to worry when you stop responding to her emails,” she answers pointedly.

“No dial-up in the jungle, B,” Faith retorts, but she has the decency to look half ashamed at being called out for dropping her end of their semi-frequent correspondence.

After…everything, Faith had stuck around for longer than Buffy expected. Helped clean up after the crater, came to Cleveland, trained new Slayers, almost was like her second-in-command.

Then Buffy started dating this guy Jamie, and Faith suddenly seemed to be everywhere but Cleveland, volunteering for assignments that took her further and further away for longer and longer periods of time until Buffy stopped setting a default place for her at the dinner table, stopped expecting to hear her heavy boots stomping up the stairs, stopped leaving space in the training room weapons rack for her knives. In typical fashion they didn't talk about it - they fought about it (once) and then Faith was gone again, leaving Buffy frustrated and confused. 

When the emails started she didn’t know what to think. It felt like an important shift in the consistently unstable dynamic they’d had since the day they met, but she didn’t let herself read too much into it. They were sporadic at first, just to check in because that was Buffy's main complaint - Faith could choose to do what she wanted with her life, be where she wanted to be even if that wasn't Cleveland - Buffy just wanted to know that she was okay. She'd lost too many people to let Faith join the list. The irony of which was not lost on her considering there was a point in her life where she strongly believed Faith deserved to die, preferably by her own hand.

It still felt a little like an abandonment though, like Faith was choosing to stay away because of Buffy. She didn't want to examine the potential reasons for that too closely.

Jamie dumped her roughly six months ago (she was definitely over it and definitely not feeling sorry for herself with no date to the annual Cleveland Hellmouth Hootenanny), and here she was now. Painfully single, painfully alone, and painfully aware that she missed having Faith around.

In the time since the breakup she'd only seen Faith twice, brief stints between the other Slayer’s deep cover missions and handling of the more complicated Slayer retrievals. Those encounters were awkward and stilted, like they weren't sending late night emails back and forth, joking and complaining and asking each other random personal questions. Face to face they lost their ability to communicate, dodging each other in hallways and avoiding eye contact in the kitchen every morning. If their weird behavior was drawing attention no one was brave enough to mention it in their earshot. 

Willow had made one attempt at broaching the topic with Buffy after a margarita-filled girls night that left her with a raging headache and a hazy memory of adamantly declaring she was officially swearing off falling for broody people in leather jackets. It wasn’t lost on her that her actual most recent ex who she should have been drowning her sorrows over was in fact a straight-edge businessman who had never set foot near a motorcycle or even a cigarette.

To put it simply: things with Faith had remained of the complicated. Buffy assumed they always would be.

“So why are you being all Miss Debbie Downer?” Faith asks, sprawled across her chair in typical Faith fashion. 

“I’m not,” she denies, the defensive response an immediate reaction. 

Faith raises an unconvinced eyebrow at her. “Sure, B. That’s why you’re sittin’ in a corner all by yourself in the middle of a party, poutin’ like Giles just asked you to write an essay on Frovlax demons.”

“I can have fun sitting right here,” she insists. “I'm…observing the dancing.”

Faith looks at her with a mix of amusement and concern. “That doesn't make any damn sense.”

The music in the background transitions from a pop song Buffy vaguely recognizes into something softer that has people pairing off or retreating from the dance floor. Faith glances across the room then back to Buffy, mischief in her gaze. “You know, you still owe me one.”

Buffy's brow furrows in confusion. “One what?” 

Faith nods her head towards the small sea of swaying bodies. “A dance.”

“What are you talking about?” Now Faith is the one who isn't making sense.

“Wow, you wound me, B.” Faith sighs dramatically, holding a hand to her chest. “Was I really that bad of a date that you can't even remember? Homecoming ‘98 ring a bell?”

Oh, Buffy remembers. More than Faith probably expects. A part of her still wonders if anything would’ve changed had that night gone differently. But her life holds so many of those crossroads moments; dwelling on them never helps.

“You mean the time I was trapped with Cordelia, got attacked by some cowboy vampires, and then lost Homecoming Queen to Michelle Blake and Holly Charleston? I try not to dwell on it."

Faith chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I can tell you’re clearly over it."

“Whatever,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping into her chair. She doesn’t need Faith’s judgement over the fact she’s still clinging to her high school traumas.

“So, dance?” Faith sticks out her hand, apparently committed to annoying Buffy and not put off by her sour mood. 

“Are you serious?” she asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion at the other woman. 

“C’mon, B,” Faith prods. “I promise I won't step on your delicate feet.”

She hesitates for another moment but catches the hint of hopefulness and vulnerability in Faith’s eyes. “Alright,” she sighs in feigned resignation. It can’t be any worse than dancing with Xander or, god forbid, Andrew.

Faith's mouth splits into a rare wide grin as she tugs Buffy up from her chair and towards the edge of the dance floor. Buffy stumbles to keep up, pulse racing as she tries to remember the last time she and Faith held hands in a non-violent context. 

“For the record,” she starts as Faith settles the hands in question loosely on Buffy’s waist. “If you do step on my feet with those filthy boots you'll be buying me a new pair of Jimmy Choos.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Faith rolls her eyes and then starts to sway them back and forth. Neither of them are quite sure where to look or how to hold themselves. Buffy's danced with plenty of people before, Faith included, that one crazy night at The Bronze. She doesn't know why she can't make her limbs function properly or behave like Faith isn't some random guy she'll never speak to again. 

“Relax,” Faith murmurs, leaning in so her lips graze Buffy’s ear. “It's just me.”

But that's the thing, isn't it? Faith has never been just anyone. Not to Buffy.

Now isn't the time to follow that line of thinking. For all she knows Faith will vanish after tonight and Buffy won't see her again for another three months. She exhales, releases the tension in her body, and allows herself to just be in the moment while she has the elusive Slayer in her presence. 

Buffy feels Faith go rigid for a split second when she inches closer and rests her head on Faith’s shoulder. She’s glad she’s turned out toward the crowd so Faith can’t see the blush that spreads across her skin at their close contact.

It’s…kinda nice actually, once they both settle into it. Faith is warm and solid against her, and unexpectedly not half bad at the whole slow dancing thing. Buffy breathes in and gets the familiar, comforting scent of leather and cedarwood that she associates with the brunette. Conspicuously absent is any hint of smoke. 

“So…” Faith says, and Buffy can feel the rumble of her voice against her cheek. “You didn’t bring anyone tonight.” It’s half question, half statement, a classic Faith mixed signal that draws a knowing smile to her mouth.

“I think I’ve sworn off dating,” she answers, turning to face Faith. “I’m destined to be an old spinster.”

Faith looks down at her and snorts. “Yeah right, B. I don’t see that happenin’ to you - you’re a catch.”

“Am I?” 

“Don’t bait me to boost your ego,” Faith counters. “And you know you are - hot chicks with super powers, remember?”

“Worth a try,” she sighs. “Why are you asking anyway?” she presses, curious and maybe a little bit hopeful. For what, she’s not sure.

“Oh, I met this demon in Cuzco and thought I’d give him your number,” Faith fires back with a sly grin.

Buffy’s eyes narrow. “You’re not funny.”

Faith gives her a wink that has Buffy rolling her eyes in response before she returns her head to its place on Faith’s shoulder. They fall into silence again, still swaying back and forth to the music as Faith guides them along the perimeter of the dance floor. 

But the mention of Faith’s recent trip sticks in her mind and has her wondering where the other Slayer will head next while she’s left behind. She swallows down her nerves and braces for the inevitable abandonment. “I assume you’ll be gone after tonight?” she asks tentatively. “Sneaking out with no goodbye again?” She tries and fails to hide the accusation in her tone.

If Faith notices she doesn’t react to it. Instead she’s uncharacteristically quiet for a long moment and then brings their dancing to an abrupt halt. “Uh, no, actually. I'm gonna be here for a while.”

Buffy snaps her head to look back up at Faith. “Really?”

“Yup,” Faith replies, offering frustratingly no other information. They’re still holding onto each other even though they’ve stopped dancing, but Buffy barely notices. She’s too focused on processing this surprising bit of news and what it could mean.

“How long is ‘a while’?” she tries next, treading carefully.

“Dunno,” Faith shrugs, eyes dropping away from Buffy’s. “Until you get sick of me, I guess.”

Buffy senses there's more to uncover about this unexpected decision, but for once she chooses not to push it. “Well that'll be about three to five days, give or take,” she deadpans.

Faith laughs softly, her breath huffing warm across Buffy's cheek. “That'd probably be a record for us, huh?” 

“There were those few weeks of senior year,” Buffy reminds her, flashes of memories flickering through her head. She cuts them off before they spiral into the darkness that follows.

Faith’s face softens into an expression Buffy’s never seen on her before. “Most fun I ever had.”

“Seriously?” she questions, certain Faith must be kidding. Whenever they bring up their shared history (which isn’t often), it’s usually in rare quiet moments when one of them is feeling particularly haunted by guilt or regret. They don’t typically acknowledge that there were some good moments before it all went to hell. She’s veered them into unknown territory tonight.

“I did actually like spendin’ time with you,” Faith confesses softly. The sincerity in her voice makes Buffy’s heart do something funny in her chest. “Even though you were the most uptight, prissiest girl I’d ever met.”

And there’s the Faith she knows best. Can’t be vulnerable for a moment if she tried. Buffy’s used to the emotional whiplash by now, craves it sometimes. 

“I was not,” she sputters, holding back the urge to swat at Faith.

“Was too,” Faith retorts as she sticks her tongue out like a child.

“Well you’re one to talk, Miss ‘Too Cool for School,’ Rebel Girl, Queen of Angst,” she counters.

Faith’s eyes widen in amusement. “Wow, B, that’s quite the list of nicknames you got there.”

“At least mine are creative. You just picked the literal first letter of my name.”

“Shut up,” Faith huffs with a grin that reveals her dimples. Buffy can’t help but echo it with a grin of her own. This is what she missed - the safe, comfortable pattern of her and Faith ribbing each other just for the hell of it. No emotional landmines to be found.

“I'm glad you're back,” she says unbidden, then quickly ducks her head, embarrassed at her own confession. Faith's grip tightens around her waist; the warmth of her palms sends a spark of something along Buffy's spine. Not the time, she reminds herself.

“Me too,” Faith responds after a long beat of silence, voice low. Buffy lifts her head slowly, afraid to startle the other woman and break this fragile bit of peace between them. She finds something warm and open waiting for her in the depth of Faith’s gaze; Buffy could drown in those brown eyes. And that's a dangerous realization.

Her body unconsciously drifts closer into Faith's space. She forgets where she is for a moment. It could be the Sunnydale High cafeteria on Homecoming night. It could be an empty graveyard at two am after patrol. It could be the sweaty dance floor at The Bronze or the hundreds of other places she’s felt inexplicably drawn to the captivating woman who stands before her now. 

Magnetic, Buffy thinks. Push and pull. Attract and repel. That’s been their whole thing since the day they met. Usually with one of them fighting to resist the other for a list of reasons too long to name. But tonight, right now on this dance floor with Faith’s arms wrapped around her, Buffy can’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t just close the remaining narrow gap between them and -

Faith steps back so abruptly that Buffy almost falls forward into the empty space she leaves behind. “I need a drink,” Faith blurts out, voice rough and dark eyes darting around to look anywhere but at Buffy, like a trapped animal searching for an escape route.

“Uh, okay,” she responds, blinking rapidly in confusion as she tries to understand what’s happening. She’s suddenly on sensory overload as the rest of the room comes rushing back into her awareness. “Why don’t I - “

“Nah,” Faith quickly cuts her off as she continues to step backwards and away from Buffy. “It’s all good, B. Just need a break from the dancin’.”

If Buffy’s brain was functioning properly she’d call Faith out on her obvious lie. Instead she stands there frozen, arms dangling loosely at her sides, and watches Faith go. Again. Her eyes follow the familiar purposeful stride and swing of Faith’s hips across the room as she effortlessly weaves through the bodies refilling the dance floor, away from Buffy and away from the smoldering remains of their friendship.

What the hell was that?

She’s pretty sure she was about to kiss Faith in front of all these people. And even though she literally fled the scene, Buffy’s pretty sure Faith would’ve kissed her back. Or kissed her first even. 

Someone jostles her and she realizes how ridiculous she must look standing there by herself on the dance floor like a girl abandoned by her prom date. That’s not a helpful comparison given her current situation and her history with the person that did just leave her on the dance floor. Now she’s the one who desperately needs a drink. 

Faith isn’t supposed to show up unannounced looking unfairly good for someone who just spent weeks in the jungle. Faith isn’t supposed to decide to come back and stick around for awhile when Buffy is at her loneliest. Faith isn’t supposed to dance with her and hold her like she matters. Faith isn’t supposed to maybe, possibly, unbelievably have real feelings for her.

And Buffy definitely isn’t supposed to acknowledge those feelings or finally choose to act on them.

Later, Buffy will say this is when everything changed. Later, Faith will roll her eyes as she pulls Buffy into her lap, grumbling something about her being way wrong. Later, Dawn will gag mockingly at them being touchy-feely and Willow will just smile knowingly from across the room. 

But right now Buffy doesn’t know any of this as she searches desperately across the room for Faith, heart racing as she looks for that distinctly wild mane of dark hair. Right now she wonders if she’ll ever see Faith again or if she’s scared her off for good. Right now she wants to run after Faith and ask her how long and why didn’t you say anything and am I too late? 

She hopes she’s not too late.