Date Night (11 page)

“I, uh,” Willow stammered, “I was just getting some air. T-too much wine,” she announced, holding up the near-empty glass in her hand. “I-I didn't mean to interrupt…” she trailed off and her eyes shifted between the two startled slayers.

Neither Buffy nor Faith moved or made an attempt to talk. After an awkward moment, the Wicca spun on her heels and fled back into the crowded house.

“Shit,” Buffy sharply muttered under her breath as she watched Willow disappear. The Californian moved toward the back door and began to leave her sister-Slayer's side to follow the Wicca into the house.

Faith gently grabbed the blonde slayer's arm, halting her exit. “Hey,” she called in a soft voice. “Where are you going? We need to talk about this.”

Buffy shook her arm, causing the Boston woman to reluctantly let go of her limb. “No.
We
don't need to talk.
I
need to talk to Willow about what she just walked in on,” she snapped curtly. “This never happened, Faith. I'm sorry. It…”

Buffy swallowed hard before continuing. “This is all just a mistake,” she said, the tears easily springing to her hazel-green eyes. “Nothing's changed. I
am
going to marry Preston.”

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

Buffy snuck into the house through the back kitchen entrance. She quickly scanned the assembled group for her redheaded best friend. The party crowd had gotten sizably larger in her absence. The first round of patrol was done and the girls responsible for the early twilight hours had showed up to unwind and celebrate with their other sister-Slayers.

The Chosen One grimaced when she spotted Kennedy, but without her Wicca girlfriend in tow. Kennedy acknowledged the elder woman's presence. “Hey, Buffy,” she said with a nod and a solemn look. “Nice party.”

“Uh, thanks,” the blonde slayer replied. “H-Have you seen Willow?” she pressed, hoping the desperation in her voice was well-hidden.

Kennedy's mouth twitched. “Yeah,” she said. The brunette girl nodded toward the front of the house. “I just saw her. I think she went to find a bathroom or some place to pass out.” She laughed lightly. “Pour thing never could handle her booze.”

Buffy nodded distractedly and started toward the living room.

“Have you seen Faith?” Kennedy asked, halting the blonde.

Buffy turned briefly. “No,” she lied in a rush. “I haven't seen her since she first got here.”

Kennedy looked disgruntled. She raised the two beer bottles in her hands. “I keep trying to find her to give her these,” she explained.

Buffy gave the younger slayer a quick smile. “Sorry, Ken. If I see her, I'll tell her you're looking for her.”

The Californian once again excused herself and made her way toward the front of the house in search of her best friend. She wasn't exactly sure
what
she was going to say to Willow once she did find her, but she'd worry about that when the time came.

In the living room, someone had fired up the karaoke machine. It had been an impulse purchase for the party. Buffy had insisted that it wasn't necessary, knowing that none of her closest friends had very good voices, but Preston had been keen on its inclusion. Buffy recognized the vocals of one of the younger Cleveland slayers over the speakers destroying some Norah Jones song.

The party hostess bobbed between groups of people, getting stopped now and again to say hi to friends from her day job who had made it to the party. A flash of red hair caught Buffy's eye, and she excused herself to maneuver in the direction of what she hoped was her best friend. The blonde slayer finally found her friend in a corner of the dining room, fidgeting with the now-full wine glass in her hands.

“Buffy!” the redhead squeaked when she saw the elder slayer. “I-I…”

“Wills,” the blonde woman said in an exasperated tone. “I need to talk to you…about…about…”

An unexpected strain of country music guitars and drums erupted over the karaoke machine speakers before she could dive into what was sure to be a terribly awkward conversation.

Buffy and Willow gave each other an amused look. “When did Xander show up?” Buffy joked anxiously.

Willow couldn't suppress a giggle, despite still feeling unnerved by what she'd witnessed on the back porch. “Country Music,” she laughed. “The music of pain.”

The blonde's laughter was quickly stifled when the lyrics began. Buffy nearly choked on her tongue when she recognized the voice straining over the home theater speakers. It was Faith. And she was singing Johnny Cash.

You say you're looking for someone

Who's never weak

But always strong

To protect you and defend you

Whether you are right or wrong

Someone to open each and every door

The blonde slayer pushed toward the front of the house and made her way into the living room. Faith must have re-entered the house through the front door rather than return through the back entrance, the blonde reasoned. When Buffy finally got to the front room, she was rewarded with a view of Faith standing next to the karaoke machine. The brunette sang into the small, cheap microphone, not needing to look at the screen for the song's lyrics.

But it ain't me, babe.

No no no

It ain't me, babe.

It ain't me you're looking for, babe.

Buffy tore her eyes away from the Bostonian when she felt a light touch at her elbow. Willow looked at her friend with amazement. “Did you know she could sing this well?” she asked.

The Californian swallowed and shook her head silently, before returning her gaze back to the angry woman. The dark-haired slayer's face was twisted into a scowl as she belted out the familiar lyrics. Faith's rage, if anything, only improved the impressive performance.

You say you're looking for someone

To pick you up each time you fall

To gather flowers constantly

And to come each time you call

And who'll love you for your life and nothing more.

But it ain't me, babe.

No no no

It ain't me, babe.

It ain't me you're looking for, babe.

When the song came to an end, a number of the younger slayers clapped and whistled their appreciation for the brunette slayer. Faith didn't acknowledge the other party guests, however. She simply walked toward the front of the house, grabbed her jacket from its hook in the foyer, and exited out the front door.

Buffy abandoned Willow's side without a word to her friend, despite still needing to explain herself to the Wiccan. She hastily followed Faith outside, eschewing her own jacket despite the chilly winter weather. When she closed the front door behind her, Faith had already made it to the sidewalk in front of the house.

“What the hell was that?” Buffy demanded loudly, raising her voice loud enough to cause the Bostonian to pause her retreat.

Faith turned on her thick heels. “Karaoke,” she growled, her face dark beneath the Cleveland night sky, “or so I'm told.”

The Californian slayer folded her hands across her chest. “You know what I mean.” Her heels clomped noisily on the wooden porch as she descended the front steps.

“Don't flatter yourself, B,” the Boston girl scoffed, shoving her clenched fists deep into the pockets of her leather jacket. “I just happen to dig Johnny Cash. That song meant nothing.”

Buffy could still feel the fire in her pink cheeks. “Why did you have to show up tonight?” she demanded bitterly. “Why couldn't you just stay in Boston?”

“Is that what you really want?” Faith stomped a few steps toward the blonde, invading her personal space. Buffy's breath caught in her throat as she took in the venom that rolled off the brunette's body in waves.

Buffy knew that having Faith leave was not what she wanted. What she really wanted was for the scowling beauty to take her in a tight embrace and kiss her so hard she forgot about everything else. Preston. Slaying. This ridiculous wedding.

But she was too afraid of her unexpected emotions to admit that. Instead, Buffy nodded.

“Fine,” Faith scowled, turning around once again. “Then that's what you'll get.”

Suggested Listening: “Hey” - Pixies

The Boston-born slayer sat at an empty table in the dimly lit room. The club was sparsely populated due to the early hour. A few patrons sat at their own tables scattered around the main floor of the `gentlemen's club.' They didn't have the prettiest dancers at this specific strip club, and other bars had friendlier cocktail waitresses as well. But Faith wasn't concerned about that. Mostly, she just wanted to drink and be left alone.

“Private dance?”

The brunette looked up to see the hopeful gaze of one of the bar's strippers. Faith wouldn't have called herself a regular at this club, but she did have a knack for faces. The dancer standing before her was small and blonde, just the way the Boston woman enjoyed her women. Her flat-ironed hair looked slightly disheveled due to the humidity in the air. She wore a tiny outfit that struggled to contain the C-cup breasts atop her fit figure. Faith couldn't remember her stage name, but something told her it ended with the letter `I'.

Faith merely grunted and allowed the barely-clad woman to grab her hand and bring her to her feet. The brunette had been drinking heavily before she even made it to the strip club and had a few more beers in her since she'd arrived at the bar just an hour previously. She swayed slightly on her feet and the room spun a little. Faith grabbed at her small table with her free hand and swallowed hard, forcing the wave of nausea to subside. When she was confident she could walk without falling over, the Boston slayer retrieved her half-empty beer bottle and obligingly followed the slightly swaying derriere of the stripper.

The woman led them down a narrow, dark hallway at the rear of the club that opened up into a larger room. Five separate stalls that resembled department-store changing rooms were in the space. The name-less dancer gently pushed Faith into a vacant stall and pulled the thick, blue curtain closed, hiding them from view. Before the dark slayer could react, fumbling fingers were immediately at her waistband.

“Where've you been hiding, Faith?” the girl demanded, roughly pulling the thick leather belt away from its buckle. The brunette slayer stood her ground despite her drunken state and the force with which the dancer tried to remove her belt. The metal buckle clanged noisily as the stripper hastily unfastened it. “You haven't been around for a couple of months at least,” the exotic dancer observed. “Was starting to think you'd forgotten about me.”

The Boston girl remained standing, not helping, but not stopping the dancer, as the other woman deftly unsnapped the front of her black denim pants. Faith's brain worked slowly as she tried to remember the girl's name. Mandi? Candi? Brandi? None of them sounded right.

The slayer took a quick pull from the long-necked beer bottle in her hand. She readjusted her stance, moving her feet apart to keep from toppling over. “Haven't been hiding,” she lightly protested. “Just been busy.”

The dancer slid the brunette slayer's leather jacket off her shoulders and it tumbled to the floor. Warm hands slid under the front of Faith's thin t-shirt, up under her cotton bra, and pulled and twisted at her hardening nipples. “Busy, huh?” the club employee leered. “Too busy for
this?
”

She pinched the Boston slayer's distended nipples, sending a jolt of arousal from Faith's breasts down to her clit. The brunette sucked in a sharp breath of air. “Guess you'll have to remind me what I've been missin',” she grunted.

Faith allowed the woman to push her a few steps backwards, further into the private stall, and she down on a black leather chair. The material groaned and squeaked as she settled into the seat.

“I should slap your face for forgettin' someone like me,” the stripper purred, “but instead I think I'll just give ya something to remember me by.”

The stripper got down on her knees in front of the dark-haired woman and finished unzipping the front of Faith's jeans. Not allowing the normally dominant slayer time to react or protest, the woman wiggled the slayer's pants and underwear off her hips and around her ankles, rendering her naked from the waist down.

The club dancer immediately pushed two fingers deep inside Faith's pussy, causing the Boston woman to gasp out loud. “Fuck,” she wheezed, clamping her muscled thighs tight around the other woman's hand. The stripper smiled to herself, but didn't move her hand, allowing the brunette time to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

The nameless dancer dipped her head and lapped at the rogue slayer's exposed clit while her stilled fingers continued to fill the Boston slayer's cunt. Faith's hips jerked at the velvet touch, her pelvic bone bumping into the other woman's nose. The stripper rolled the Boston woman's sensitive nub around with the tip of her tongue and then sucked the small bit of flesh into her mouth.

“Yeah, that's it,” Faith encouraged between clenched teeth, her hips rising towards the ceiling. She dug her fingernails into the arms of the leather chair. “Suck me off,” she panted, “just like that.”

Faith pulled on the woman's hair, forcing the dancer's face more fully into her aching sex. She pressed down on the back of the stripper's head, and the woman positioned between her splayed thighs mumbled her appreciation. Her muffled noises vibrated off of the Boston girl's clit.

The blonde dancer began to move her fingers in and out of Faith's now-dripping sex. The slayer tossed her head back and closed her eyes. “Fuck yeah,” she muttered aloud, losing herself to the sensations rattling through her nerve-endings.

Faith bit her tongue as a sharp, sudden climax racked her body. Although she couldn't remember the dancer's name, she struggled but resisted moaning out the name at the tip of her tongue -
Buffy.

When she finally caught her ragged breath, the slayer stood up and unceremoniously pulled her pants back on and refastened her belt. She grabbed two cigarettes out of a hard pack that had fallen from the lining of her leather jacket and simultaneously lit them. Faith handed one of the burning cigarettes to the other woman who instinctively took it and inhaled deeply.