Feels like I spent all night floating around somewhere near the ceiling. Seeing Buffy, her words, the kiss. . .it all got me high. I’m not stupid enough to think everything’s just gonna go my way now, but I’m smart enough to realise we’ve both changed. We’ve got an opportunity here to get it right for once. It might never happen again, so I’m gonna do my fucking best not to screw it up. It’s her show, I’m gonna have to just go with the flow.

I’ve never been great at following. It feels better when I’m in the driving seat, knowing where I’m headed and what I have to do to get there. But with Buffy it’s always been different. When I’ve tried to take the lead in the past it’s blown up in my face. She’s more stubborn than anybody I’ve ever known. Even more stubborn than me.

Everything feels different now. We talked without fighting; without falling back behind our defensive lines. She didn’t come out guns blazing, and I didn’t put up a wall she’d never have a chance at climbing. And she fucking kissed me. Buffy Summers fucking kissed me. I shouldn’t be getting all spazzed about it, it’s not like I haven’t been kissed a thousand times by more people than I care to remember, but it was her. . .her lips, her hand on my cheek. I don’t know what it meant, but yeah. . .everything feels different.

I smile to myself as I knock on Kennedy’s door. We’re spending the day doing the bonding thing. It’s Christmas Eve so I’m betting that might include lotsa wrapping last minute gifts and trying not to drink all the eggnog. Shit, I hope they don’t have eggnog, that stuff is wicked gross.

Buffy and the kid are coming over later, but apparently they’re having their Christmas day thing with Robin and his family today. They take it in turns, or so Ken told me on the phone earlier. Last year Buffy spent Christmas Day with Robin and his folks, this year she gets to spend it with her family, or at least the family that’s here. Xander’s visiting his old man; seems he’s not too well and Xan wanted at least one last Christmas with him. Dawn is all grown up and doing the vacation thing with friends, having Christmas in the Caribbean. That just leaves me, Buffy and Luce, Ken and Will together this year. Suits me, it’s not like I’m used to big family Christmases

I’m kinda glad Robin isn’t gonna be dropping by. He lives in Cleveland now to be closer to his daughter, but. . .I don’t think I’d wanna sit beside him and do the ‘merry merry’ thing. He’s a good guy, but he got the girl of my dreams knocked up. Kinda makes me itchy, and not in a good way. Not that ever being itchy is all that good.

I’ll be heading back to the motel later ‘cause B and the kid are taking the spare room here for the night, but then I’ll be back in the morning so we can do the Christmas thing together. Sounds weird, to me at least. I mean, the fact I’ll be with people that give a damn about me, that actually want me there, is kind of a head trip. I never got what I wanted on Christmas before. Never. Not even close. So this year my fingers are crossed that I’m owed; that I’ll get something. . .someone I really want.

“Hey, Faith,” Ken says kinda sheepishly when she opens the door.

We straightened some things out on the phone this morning, but I know she still feels bad. Bygones though, right? You can’t hold onto shit, especially when she was just doing what she thought was best. She wanted to protect me. It was kinda dumb, but I can’t hold that against her. I’ve done lotsa dumb shit. It happens.

“Hey,” I say back, giving her a warm smile. “New look?” I ask when I notice she’s covered in bits of tinsel and ribbon.

“Yeah, thought I’d try it out. It’s called the Christmas-made-me-crazy look,” she answers, storming back into the living room, dropping ribbon behind her like a trail.

I close the front door and follow, chuckling when I see the mess she’s made of the living room. Last minute wrapping. I knew it.

“Wanna hand?” I ask, trying not to laugh as she sits back down on the floor, tossing an odd shaped box around in her hands as she tries to wrap it and cover all the pointy bits.

“How about twelve, and maybe a diploma in engineering,” she responds, sighing.

“Gimme that.” I take the thing from her hands and sit opposite. “You just gotta think all logic like,” I tell her.

“Right,” Ken nods, watching me.

Pulling out a huge ream of wrapping paper, I twist it over and around the thing about six times until it’s completely covered. I get the tape and start at one end, wrapping it right round too so no fucker’s gonna get into it without a chainsaw or something. Still looks like shit, but at least it’s covered. No way could you tell what the hell it is or find an uncovered edge. I have skills.

“Great, Faith. . .now it looks like I bought Will a huge, squished piece of crap,” Ken tells me, shaking her head but still chuckling.

“Trust me,” I say, “she’s not gonna care how the outside looks ‘cause she’s gonna be having too much fun trying to get into it.”

We both laugh and Kennedy hands me a glass of something weird looking.

“Nog?” she asks.

“Fuck no,” I tell her, pulling a face.

“Yeah, I guess it does taste like shit. How about beer?”

“Now you’re talking,” I say, jumping to my feet and heading for the kitchen. “You want?”

“Sure. . .anything to get the taste of nog outta my mouth,” Ken calls from the living room as I root around in the fridge. “Seriously, eggs should not be drunk. It’s just not right.”

“Why the hell were you drinking it then?” I ask, carrying two ice cold Buds back to the room.

“Willow bought it. She wanted to give me a proper Christmas this year, what with her being Jewish an’ all,” she replies.

“So you were drinking it even though she’s out?” I say with a chuckle. “Talk about whupped, Ken.”

“Hey, I’m not whupped just. . .thoughtful,” she responds, chuggin down half the bottle of beer as I do the same. “Besides, you’ll be the same. Buffy’ll get you wrapped around her finger in no time.”

I raise an eyebrow as Ken continues to make a mess of her wrapping.

“What makes you think she even wants me around her finger?” I ask, grinning to myself as the innuendo hits home.

“TMI, Faith,” Ken tells me. “And you know she does. Surely you can see it. She’s crazy about you, and she doesn’t wanna mess it up this time.”

I try to understand what she’s saying, but it’s not really making sense. I mean, I didn’t think B would tell anybody about the way she feels, if she really does feel that way. Has she been spilling her guts to people and not letting me in on it? Fuck knows. Ken knows something, though. Or at least she thinks she does. She’s never talked about this with me before. Never told me outright that she knows or suspects Buffy’s into me the way I want her to be.

“Whaddya mean, Ken?” I ask. “How can you say she’s crazy about me?”

“Weird, I know,” she says. “I know you’re head over heels for her, but I didn’t think she liked you beyond wanting to get in your pants, but. . .the past few months it’s gotten real clear it’s more.”

“Whoa, hold up, Ken,” I say, placing my bottle down on the table and sitting on the edge. “Back up. . .tell me how the hell you know she wants to get in my pants.”

I’m pretty sure I know it’s true, but unless Buffy’s being sharing her secret with everybody I got no clue how Ken got to that conclusion.

“Come on,” she says, laughing like I’m being stupid. “It’s always been obvious. The way she looked at you. The way she tried her best not to get too close to you. The things she said. I noticed. I’m good at reading people, you know that,” she tells me, smiling at me before taking a drink.

Yeah, I know that, she had me pegged from the get go. She’s one of those people persons, or maybe her gaydar is just better than most. Whatever it is, I know it’s gotta be something if she noticed Buffy was into me. Whatever B was doing. . .it wasn’t just me seeing it.

“So what makes you think it’s more?” I ask.

“Like I said, the last few months she’s been dropping these big hints. I don’t even know if she knows she’s doing it,” Kennedy explains. “She’s lonely though, I know that for sure. Her eyes only ever light up when she talks about you, and she’s been talking about you a lot.”

“Yeah?” I ask, kinda grinning and feeling warm inside.

“Yeah,” Ken chuckles. “She’s got it bad for you, and I think she’s only just realised how bad. That’s kinda the reason I asked you to come, yunno. . .besides thinking it was high time we hung out other than over the phone.”

“I’m glad you got my sorry ass here, Ken,” I tell her, clunking my bottle against hers before downing the last of it. “Never thought she woulda come round, though. Thought I’d always be chasing the idea of us and never get to have it.”

“I think she’s ready,” Ken says, smiling up at me.

I hope she’s ready. I know I am. I wanna be with Buffy, not just for the fucking amazing sex I know we could have, but for keeps. Her by my side, fighting the nasties with me, loving me the way I love her, getting to do all the things we should always have been doing with each other. And to each other. I can’t get myself all worked up over it, though. I know where that gets me: disappointed. Every time in the past when I thought she was gonna pull the stick outta her ass and get with me, she let me down. It always messed with my head. Sent me into a spiral, like I was falling but knew she’d never catch me.

Sounds dumb. All that romantic crap you read about and see in films. . .it never applied to me. Not before Buffy at least. I never fell, never loved, never wanted it, but she came along and fucked with that. I fell so hard and fast I couldn’t stop. I still can’t stop. All I have to do is think about her, or see her. I get this feeling in my stomach, like I’ve eaten a fucking bear and it’s trying to rip it’s way outta me, busting me up inside with how much I want her. With how much I want her to want me.

I know now that Buffy feels something for me. Like she said. . .it’s all in the dreams. I dunno if I could go all out and call it love. I think it is. Pretty sure it’s love I see in her eyes. Still, I gotta keep control of this. No way do I wanna come off looking stupid or like a fool. It’s up to Buffy to let me know for sure.

Me and Ken spent the rest of the afternoon finishing the wrapping and clearing up. She got dinner started and Red came back not too long after. I think she stayed out as long as she could so Ken and me could spend time alone. I’m glad ‘cause we had fun. We laughed about all the shit we’ve been doing, told slaying stories, which turned into a pissing contest like it normally does, and we lazed about and drank a few bottles of beer. It’s about the most sane and nice Christmas Eve I’ve had so far, and it’s only set to get better when Buffy gets here.

Just as I’m coming down the steps from the bathroom Buffy walks in, Lucy skipping into the living room like a maniac ahead of her. I can’t help but smile as soon as I see her, my lips remembering just what hers felt like on them.

“Hey,” Buffy says, looking at me all shy.

She looks completely adorable. Edible even.

“Hey yourself,” I say back, not hiding my smile as I step down off the last step.

Buffy looks me over and moves a little closer, looking like she wants to reach out to me. Hell, I’m right here for her to reach out to. I wouldn’t be objecting anytime soon. Something stops her though, and she settles for giving me that half smile and making her way into the living room. I follow her through, and the rest of the evening is just perfect. Well, except for the fact Lucy’s taken a liking to me and won’t leave me alone for two minutes.

I get climbed on for most of the evening as Buffy watches me, catching my eye whenever she can. I keep asking her to tie the kid up but she just laughs at me. I think she’s enjoying it. . .taking some kinda pleasure in the fact it feels like I’m being tortured. I guess the kid is kinda sweet when she wants to be, but the rest of the time she’s doing her best to see how far she can push me; asking for stuff, making me open stuff, pulling at my clothes, sticking candy to my pants.

It’s been a cool time, though. Just chillin’ and watching movies. Talking about stuff that ain’t gonna get any of us all riled up about the past. Luce did cartwheels and broke Willow’s favourite ornament, and we all agreed it was a pretty hideous ornament anyways. I tried to lighten the mood so they didn’t shout at the kid. It’s not nice getting shouted at on Christmas Eve. She’s getting tired now, though. It’s late. Way later than her normal bedtime I’m betting for sure.

“But I don’t wanna,” Lucy says when Buffy tells her it’s time for bed.

“I know, but that doesn’t change the fact you’re going to bed,” Buffy tells her. “We need to clean up for Santa, and Faith needs to get back to her motel.”

“No!” the kid yells, throwing herself down to the floor. “I want Faith to stay.”

She starts thrashing her legs about, but it’s not a full on tantrum yet. There’s no tears, just whining. I stay seated on the couch and watch as Buffy gets up and stands over her, arms folded.

“I’m sure you do, but she has to go there so she can sleep, and wait for Santa like the rest of us,” Buffy tells her.

“She can stay here,” Lucy says, looking up at Buffy and pouting. “She’s my friend.”

Buffy looks over at me and smiles. “She’s my friend too, but we’ve got the only spare bed. Now come on, dumpling.”

I try to stop staring at B, but her saying I’m her friend - even though I know I kinda am now and have been for a while – well, it’s kinda weird. Hearing her say the words made a chill run down my spine. A good chill.

“I want her to stay,” Lucy whines, tears starting to fall now. “How will Santa find her if she’s not here?”

I dunno what it is, but the way her little face is all creasing up, tears running down her cheeks, makes me wanna do something to make it better. I don’t want her worrying all night that Santa ain’t gonna find me, even though he’s never fucking found me before.

“Hey, it’s ok, Luce,” I say, getting up and squatting down beside her. “Santa’s like an old friend of mine, he’ll know where I am.”

She looks up at me, big brown eyes full of tears and wonder. Her bottom lip is quivering and it’s kinda heartbreaking.

“You could stay on the couch,” Willow points out. “I mean, we have pillows and stuff.” She shrugs, and I see a little glint in her eye.

I see the same glint in Ken’s eye too. I’m guessing maybe they think it’s a good idea for me to stay the night instead of spend the rest of it alone. Gotta admit, I wasn’t looking forward to leaving when things have been going so well with Buffy. Laying in a cold motel room doesn’t much sound like fun.

“Sure, if it’ll keep the little devil happy,” I say, looking up towards Buffy to gauge her reaction.

Buffy smiles and looks pretty happy with the decision.

“Ok, we’ll get the blankets and stuff, and you can go get what you need from your motel,” Willow says, taking charge of the situation. If I didn’t know better I’d say she told the kid to throw a fit.

“Right,” I say. “I’ll go pick my stuff up for the night.”

“Are you staying?” Lucy asks, following me up onto her feet as I stand, her little hand grabbing at the bottom of my shirt.

“Yeah, I’m staying,” I answer, ruffling her hair. “Just gotta go get some stuff back at the motel.”

“Can I come?” Lucy asks, her big brown eyes making me all squishy again.

Seriously, I think this kid has supernatural powers. I don’t like kids, let alone kids that whine and get all demand-y. Can’t seem to say no to her, though.

“You’ll have to ask your mom,” I say, passing the buck.

Buffy shakes her head at me and gives me a little evil glare. It’s more cute than threatening. I dunno if it’s ‘cause she’s doing it different or it’s ‘cause I’m seeing it different. Whatever it is, I kinda like it. Makes me wanna jump Buffy right here and now, but preferably without the audience.

“Mom, can I? Can I?” Luce whines.

I didn’t think Buffy’d back down, I mean. . .it’s the kid’s bedtime and she can’t honestly be thinking of trusting me with her. But no, she nods her head and grins at me.

“Just behave for Faith, ok? And when you get back it’s right to bed,” Buffy tells her.

Lucy nods and keeps clinging to me. How the hell did I just get myself into that? I don’t know the first thing about being alone with a kid. . .let alone Buffy’s kid. Buffy’s kid that I’m pretty sure has to have some connections to the devil. I mean shit. . .her name is Lucy; that’s just a little too close to Lucifer for my liking.

“Maybe you should come too,” I tell Buffy, hoping I’m not sounding desperate.

“I’ve got stuff to do here,” she replies, obviously lying. “You’ll be ok, just take my car, it’s got the booster seat in the back.”

Right, she’s not only trusting me with her kid, but also her car. Things really have changed. I’d be thinking something weird was going on if she hadn’t kissed me last night.

Buffy helps me get the kid into the car and I drive off as she waves from the doorway. There’s little stuffed toys on the dashboard and it smells like. . .well, it smells like Buffy; her perfume. The little fuzzy seat cover makes me feel warm and happy. It’s like she’s all around me, letting me into her life. Her kid is babbling in the back seat, talking to a pink furry dinosaur. It’s like I belong here, and it feels good.

“Mommy says you’re tough, and that if I don’t behave you’ll kick my butt,” Lucy says from behind me. “But she says you’re nice, and not to be bad for you.”

“That right?” I chuckle.

“I won’t be bad. . .I want Santa to come,” she tells me.

She carries on talking to her toy about Santa and all the things she wants. Pretty sure I heard her say she wanted her mom to be happy in amongst the ponies she wants and the Barbies. I guess Ken’s right; Buffy isn’t all that happy right now. I know the feeling. It’s like existing but not really living. Waiting for something. Knowing you could have more, but never quite getting it. Maybe B’s been feeling the same as me.

I look up into the mirror and spot that Lucy’s chowing down on her mittens. I doubt she’s meant to be doing that.

“Hey, Luce?” I say, getting her attention. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be eating your gloves. In fact, there’s probably even some kinda law against it. Like a. . .no eating gloves on a weekday rule or something.”

I glance up at the mirror and see she’s not paying attention, still munching on the end of her now soggy purple glove. I shake my head.

“Yunno. . .that things probably got a thousand kindsa germs on it. They’ll be crawling around in your stomach now, all partying it up in there, ready to make you sick ‘till you’re barfing outta your nose,” I warn her as we pull up to the space outside my room.

As I turn round ready to let her out of the seat I notice the quivering lip. Oh crap, I’m really hoping she don’t start crying.

“Ok, ok. . .it won’t make you sick, but seriously, I don’t think mommy’s gonna be happy if you go home with bits of mitten in your belly. We don’t wanna make her mad, right?” I say, trying to talk her down from bursting into tears.

She shakes her head no, letting the mitten drop to the seat.

“Great,” I say with a smile, “we don’t have to tell her if you just leave ‘em on your hands and not put them in your mouth.”

I’m betting they don’t taste so good, but when did that ever stop kids from eating crap.

“I don’t wanna be sick out of my nose,” she says, all quiet and worried lookin’.

She seems a little traumatised, and I’m certain Buffy wouldn’t be too pleased if I bring her home all distraught.

“You won’t be,” I reassure her.

“But you just said. . .”

“Tell ya what, if you forget I said that. . .we’ll stop on the way home and get ice-cream,” I tell her.

“I don’t like ice-cream,” she points out, her pout looking more mischievous than scared now.

“Of course not.” I rub the back of my neck and get out of the car. “How about. . .I’ll play any game with you that you want tomorrow; that fair?” I ask, recalling how I’d kept telling her I wouldn’t play tea-party with her today. Didn’t really feel like sitting on the floor and playin’ with dolls, not with Ken laughing at me.

“Really?” she says, her face lighting up right away. “We can play tea-party then. You’ll like it. My Barbie’s on a diet, but she’s allowed iced-tea. Yours can have her share, she has bigger clothes. Mommy gotted the wrong ones.”

This kid’s insane, but at least I’m off the hook. She carries on babbling as I get us into my motel room, get my things and get her back into the seat in the car. The entire time she kept talking about Buffy’s lack of Barbie knowledge. I couldn’t help but laugh, which Luce seemed to like. Her little smile reminds me of Buffy’s. Kinda makes me smile right back.

We get back pretty quick but Lucy falls asleep. I throw my bag over my shoulder and carry her back to the house.

“Wow, you put my daughter to sleep, thank you,” Buffy tells me as she opens the front door.

I just smile and hand the kid over. Buffy’s hand brushes over mine and we kinda lock eyes for a few seconds. I see the sadness inside her then. The need to have more. The empty feeling I know all too well. We share in that like we’ve shared in most things. Hurt, pain, fear. . .it’s all been circling round the same thing. Always hiding behind everything we’ve done to each other.

“Will and Ken have gone to bed,” Buffy lets me know. “I’ll put Lucy down, then. . .if you don’t mind I’m gonna stay up a little while longer.”

“Don’t mind at all, B,” I assure.

She nods and I watch her walk up the stairs. It’s kinda hard to not stare at her perfect ass; it’s just so fucking squeezable.

When she gets outta sight I make my way into the living room and notice the couch has already been made up for me. I take the few minutes alone to pull off my clothes and slip on some loose shorts and a tee shirt. I’m not usually the type to wear stuff to bed, but I don’t wanna scare B off by flashing my goodies at her without warning.

I rest back on top of the comforter that’s been thrown over the large couch, flicking through the TV channels but not really paying attention to what’s on. I guess I’m kinda on edge. It’s not like I’m used to spending ‘alone time’ with B. We spent the evening together, but there were people around. Being alone with her is a whole different thing. I get even more on edge when she strolls into the room wearing just a tee shirt. It’s a pretty big tee shirt that just about covers her ass, but damn. . .she looks cute and just about ready to eat.

“Anything good on?” Buffy asks, as she hovers near the end of the couch.

I lift my feet outta the way so she can sit down, crossing my legs and grinning at her. The only thing that would be good on. . .is her on me. There was a time I woulda said that too, but then Buffy woulda rolled her eyes and acted like I’d just abused her or something. I don’t wanna risk getting her pissed so I hold it in this time round.

“Nah, nothing good on,” I tell her.

She gets onto the couch and curls her legs up so she’s all comfortable. “How about if I get ‘on’ you, would that be good?” she asks, taking me a little by surprise, and when I say a little, I mean a lot. She’s had a few drinks, but I didn’t think she was hammered enough to get like this.

“Um. . .” I blink at her, waiting for her to tell me she’s joking.

“Maybe if I demonstrate, you could let me know. . .if that’s ok?” she says, looking at me from under her eyelashes, a little grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Buffy moves towards me - practically crawling across the short distance - her eyes never leaving mine. It looks fucking hot. She’s fucking hot.

“Demonstrations are always good,” I respond, remembering I’m not still just sixteen and totally afraid of what could happen between us. “But. . .why now?”

I couldn’t hold the question back. Need to be sure I’m not getting it wrong or mixing up the signals.

“Because it feels right now,” Buffy explains, her body inches from mine as we sit facing each other. “Why do you think I kissed you? Yunno, apart from the fact you looked adorable in panties and boots.”

I chuckle and shake my head, wanting so much to reach out and touch her.

“Not sure, B,” I answer truthfully. “But I’m thinking more of the same might give me some insight.”

My grin escapes, all dimples and wickedness. She licks her lips and leans into me. I think my heart stopped beating, or maybe it’s going too quick for me to feel it pounding.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Buffy whispers across my lips. “We need to stop dreaming and start living.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I say softly, leaning towards Buffy, my lips just barely brushing against hers.

For a moment it feels like time stopped existing. All that exists is me and Buffy. Close. So close to finally stepping over that line we’ve been trapped behind. She lifts her hand to my cheek and I lift mine to her shoulder, and we meet more firmly. My lips crash against hers, needy and wanting. It’s not soft, it’s everything we’ve held back for so long. She moans into my mouth when I slide my tongue into hers, slipping it over and around her own, lips pressing, sucking, tasting. I can feel her heat, her need. . .and it’s gonna drive me wild. I just hope she can handle it. I hope we both can.

Buffy breaks away as we both gasp for air, hands beginning to roam, touching how we’d always wanted to touch.

“I want you, Faith,” she says breathlessly. “God, I want you so much.”