It wasn't exactly the way Buffy wanted to spend her Friday evening, making a video log documenting her last week training the younger slayers. Still, Giles was kind of the boss so she did as he asked, mainly to avoid the look of disapproval he'd perfected over the years.

She sat Indian-style on the middle of her bed, looking beyond the camcorder and tripod at the foot of the bed and to the television where her image was projected. She fixed her hair one last time, trying to make sure she looked her best if this was going to be saved forever in the annals of slayer history. Seeing herself on the flat screen gave her a sudden case of the shies and she quickly hit the record button on the remote control before she could chicken out.

"Okay, so . . . hi."

She waved at the camera, caught a glimpse of herself in the television, and instantly lowered her hand. God, when did she get so awkward? Was she hanging around Willow too much?

"Umm, this is my video log for the week of the seventh through the thirteenth. I'm probably doing it all wrong. Giles, you can lecture me tomorrow. Andrew, you can stand behind him and nod like you know what he's talking about. Anyway, here goes. The week started out as usual. My group and I worked on calisthenics to help fine tune their psychomotor skills. They're young but they should still be exhibiting a higher level of dexterity and agility. Faith and I had far surpassed them at that age. I'm seeing improvements with every workout though, so we'll just keep chugging along. Uh..."

She paused and scratched the tip of her nose with her fingertips, feeling suddenly self-conscious. After a few moments she finally threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Can we all agree that this is a little ridiculous? I mean, I know technology is great and everything. I'm all for using it to cure, well, you know - cancer and stupidity and stuff. But video journals? Can't we just go back to keeping books like the old guys used to? Giles, you love books! I..."

She trailed off and looked over at the bedroom door just as it opened, a small smile making its way onto her flustered face as Faith walked in. Her evening had been spent taking some of the younger slayers on patrol. Judging by the all too familiar glimmer in her eyes and the way her body practically hummed with energy, Buffy knew they'd actually found some vamps to play with.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," Faith replied, peeling off her jacket and dropping it behind her on the floor.

She was wearing only a maroon tank top and a pair of tight blue jeans and . . . damn. Buffy suddenly lost her ability to speak.

"Whatcha doin?" Faith asked after a moment, slowly moving closer to the bed.

Realizing that words were necessary, Buffy shook her head and indicated the camera with her thumb.

"Video log."

"Sounds fun. Can it wait?"

"Sure. What's up?"

"Got a surprise for ya."

"Ooh, I love surprises." She leaned forward to see if Faith had something hidden behind her back but there was nothing. "Where is it?"

"In my pants."

Ah. So it was one of those kinds of surprises.

Not that Buffy was complaining.

In fact, it was the perfect distraction.

Smirking, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and curled a finger through one of Faith's belt loops and tugged her over the rest of the way.

"Is it . . . a pony?" she asked playfully.

Faith smirked. "Nope, but ya can ride it if ya want."

Buffy laughed loudly then and lay back on the bed, pulling Faith down with her. Faith pressed a series of quick kisses against her lips while she tried to wriggle out of her jeans.

"I take it the slaying went well," Buffy murmured against her lips.

"Talk later, sex now," Faith mumbled back.

Buffy was happy to oblige.

She reached under her back and grabbed the remote control that had been digging into her flesh. Blindly, she began mashing buttons on it until the television across the way went off, leaving them without any further interruptions.