Chapter 8:

POV Faith

Fuckin' eh. Of all the nights to be running late.

I hustle down the sidewalk, annoyed that I couldn't find a parking spot for my bike closer to the store. Who knew that Friday nights in downtown Cleveland was even a thing?

I'm on my way to the Magic Shop for its grand re-opening. Willow insisted that since it's a magic shop of the occult variety, and not the rabbit-in-the-hat kind, that the actual christening celebration be held at night. I'd planned on doing a quick sweep of the closest cemeteries and then hustle downtown to help finish setting up for the party, but I didn't anticipate running into a Frophla demon and getting slime all over my clothes.

After a quick shower and a new change of clothes, I'm now wicked late for Willow's party. Normally I wouldn't care about showing up to this thing late, but I know it's important to Buffy that I'm there to support her friend, so therefore it's important to me. Whatever. I'm whipped.

Speaking of Buffy, I actually haven't seen her since we had our do-over at Crossroads nearly a week ago. It's certainly not on purpose though. Patrol has been busier than usual, or at least busier than Cleveland patrols have typically been, so my nights have been pretty long. She's still taking a well-deserved break from slaying, but I'm hopeful she'll come back to it soon.

It's not that I can't handle being the go-to slayer here on the Midwest Hellmouth, but fuck, I miss patrolling and slaying with her. I haven't told her that though, cause I don't want to guilt her back into slaying before she's ready to come back on her own. I know she'll come back eventually though. I know better than anyone, you can't run from your Calling.

Even though I haven't seen her in the flesh in a week, we've still talked on the phone nearly every night after I get back from patrol. I've subtly tried to invite myself over, but she's not taking the bait. But truthfully, it's actually been kind of nice just talking to her. When we're around each other, we kind of have this bad habit of not really having meaningful conversations – just a lot of bumping and grinding. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but this talking thing is a nice change of pace for us. It feels mature. Evolved. Like what we're tentatively exploring again might actually work this time.

When I finally get to the Magic Shop, everything looks totally dark inside. Did I get the date wrong? Am I hustling down the street with damp hair for nothing? As I walk closer, I can see there's a piece of paper taped to the front door: "Closed For Private Event. Sorry For The Inconvenience."

Puzzled, I try the front door and find it unlocked. I push into the store, and everything is bathed in darkness. I let my eyes adjust to the lack of light. There's no sign of anyone, let alone any indication that today was supposed to be the grand re-opening of Willow's store. No balloons, no streamers, no dorky little Grand Re-Opening banners. I let the moonlight and streetlamps shining through the windows guide me toward a light panel on the far wall. I flip the switches, but nothing happens. Still no lights.

I hear a noise coming from downstairs, and my slayer instincts immediately kick in. I'm apparently not alone. Knowing the Scoobies' luck, word got out about the grand re-opening and some kind of nasty crashed the party and it's holding everyone captive in the basement.

I pull out the curved knife that I had the foresight to stick in my jacket lining, and I tensely grip the handle. I silently make my way to the basement entrance and slowly open the door that leads downstairs.

I fumble for the wall panel I know is at the top of the stairs, but when I try that switch, nothing happens. I flip the toggle up and down a few times, but not even a nightlight turns on. Aided by nothing but the moon spilling through the shop windows, I carefully creep my way down to the basement level. I grimace when the wooden stairs creek beneath my feet. So much for being stealthy.

My ears prick when I once again hear hushed noises and rustling coming from the darkened shadows.

"That had better be a fuckin' rat," I growl menacingly. Not that I'm particularly fond of rats, but you get the idea.

"Surprise!"

The overhead lights suddenly turn on, flooding the basement with their light, and about two dozen people jump out from behind crates and boxes. I grab onto my heart as if it's about to explode out of my chest. "Holy shit!" I curse loudly, dropping my knife. It clatters noisily on the concrete floor.

My reaction evokes a few good-natured giggles at my expense.

"What is this?" I demand, looking around at all the familiar, smiling faces for some kind of answer. It's not my birthday or any kind of holiday. What am I getting 'surprised' for?

The group parts and Buffy rushes through the middle to envelop me in a giant hug. "Do you like it?" she excitedly breathes in my ear.

I pull back from her embrace, still totally confused. "If I knew what it was, I might be able to give you an answer."

"It's a coming out party," she states like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Coming out party?" I echo. "What am I coming out of? A cocoon?"

She swats at my arm and laughs. "It's not for you, silly. It's for me." The way she's grinning at me you'd think it was Christmas morning and she just got a fuckin' pony from Santa Claus.

I knit my eyebrows together. "If this is a party for you, then why did people jump out and surprise me?"

She looks a little bashful. "Okay, so maybe that part is a little confusing," she grumbles. "I didn't quite know how to throw myself a Coming Out party. It's not like there's etiquette books on it. I looked, too."

The words are finally making sense.

"You…you told them about us?" I sputter in disbelief. "All of them?"

She nods and gives me a small, expectant smile.

I look around at the gathered group. All the gang is here: Xander, Dawn, Giles, Willow, Kennedy, even Andrew and Robin, plus a gaggle of some of the more experienced slayerettes. It's actually surprising to see all of these people in the same room at once. Giles, Andrew, Robin, and some of the older girls like Vi and Rona are supposed to be looking over slayer cells in other parts of the world. It looks more like we're gathering to fight an apocalypse, not…celebrate Buffy being gay? They came back to Cleveland for this?

I'm a little overwhelmed. Buffy Summers, Miss-I-Care-Too-Much-About-What-Other-People-Think-Of-Me, told the people closest to her, hell, even her Watcher that she's gay. For me.

My silence must be rattling her because when I remain quiet, her smile fades and her forehead crumples. "Is it…is it too much?" she asks, worriedly. She chews on her bottom lip.

I shake my head. "No, no," I insist. "I'm just…surprised, that's all."

Her grin returns to her beautiful face. And she hugs me again and kind of squeals with excitement. Shit.

"So, uh, what exactly happens at a Coming Out party?" I ask, taking the time to really look around the room.

The storage space has been cleaned up, organized, with magic supplies shoved and stacked out of the way to make enough room for all the people gathered. There's finger food laid out on a few of the taller wooden crates, and I spy a blue ice chest full of drinks in one corner. Some of the younger girls, who I'm not sure are even legal drinking age, are hovering hungrily around the beer and booze.

"I'm the DJ!" Dawn yells out suddenly.

I quirk an eyebrow at Buffy. "You're trusting your sister with the music?"

She gracefully shrugs. "It'll keep her out of trouble."

The music abruptly starts up, something pop-y and Top 40 pouring out of an iPod boom box, but it's a good beat, so I don't mind. People start to couple up and dance around in larger groups in the confined space.

I rest my hand on Buffy's hip. "You gonna dance with me," I ask, "in front of all your friends and family?"

She leans in and gives me a kiss so sweet, it's gotta be made from cotton candy. "I thought you'd never ask," she purrs.

When I feel Buffy's hands wander down to my ass and squeeze, I let out an uncharacteristic yelp of surprise. So many surprises tonight. I don't know if my heart can handle them all. "B! What are you doing?"

"I thought you wanted everyone to know you're mine," she husks into my ear.

She bites down on my lower lip, and hell if I can keep back my pathetic whimper. "You know…I wasn't serious about that public sex thing," I murmur.

She grins back at me with what I can only describe as her best Faith-Lehane-smirk.

I anxiously glance around the room to see if anyone saw her PDA. Everyone seems too wrapped up in their own thing to really notice us though. It's kind of funny. I feel like the tables have been flipped. Normally B is the one who worries about this kind of stuff. Guess it's time for me to evolve and keep up with this new version of exhibitionist, Out-and-Proud Buffy.

Willow's voice carries over the din of the crowd, causing us to stop dancing. "Can I get everyone's attention for a minute?" Her eyes scan over the group, waiting for everyone to quiet down. The music is turned off and everyone in the room gives Willow their undivided attention.

"I-I'm not good at big speeches," she starts out apologetically. She twitters a little, looking nervous now that she's the center of attention. "That's usually Buffy's territory."

A few murmurs of agreement reach my ears. And I snap my gaze around the room to make sure no one's mocking B.

"But, I just wanted to thank all of you for, uh, coming out tonight," she chuckles at her own pun, "to celebrate this milestone for my best friend, Buffy."

"Here! Here!" Xander yells out, holding a half-empty beer bottle in the air.

"Together, we've all been through a lot these past few years," Willow continues seriously. "And we've all loved and lost someone close in the process." She pauses, getting momentarily choked up. She doesn't need to elaborate. We all know who she's talking about.

I start to feel a little awkward because Kennedy's standing right next to her. But I'm pleasantly surprised when I see nothing but support and sympathy in Kennedy's body language. She smiles, albeit little sadly, at her girlfriend, and pats her arm in solidarity. Willow flashes her partner a grateful smile.

"Anyway," Willow says, shaking her head and wiping away at her watery eyes, "I think the biggest lesson I've learned along the way is that as long as there's love in the world, we're all going to be okay." She raises her red Solo cup in the air. "So, here's to love."

"To love!" we all chant, raising our glasses and bottles in the air in salute.

"I'm next!" Dawn speaks up. She waits until all eyes are on her. She holds her party cup up in one hand. "Buffy," she starts in a sticky voice dripping with too much sincerity, "You know I love you."

There's a collective, feminine coo'ing and aww'ing that makes me want to vomit.

Dawn's lips curl into a mischievous smile. "And even though you're not cool enough to be Faith's girlfriend, if it makes you both happy, I'm all for it."

"Hey!" Buffy protests. She stomps her foot on the concrete floor. "I'm hip, too."

I grin at her. She can be so childish and petulant, but she's all the more adorable because of it.

"Well I, for one," Kennedy obnoxiously bellows as she swings a beer bottle in the air, "just want to say how relieved I am that you two stopped fighting each other long enough to finally get together. It's about damn time."

"Preach!" Rona cheers out.

My cheeks grow hot beneath all this unwanted attention.

"Faith Lehane. Are you blushing?" Buffy giggles quietly at me. She bumps her hip into mine. "I never realized how much I like the color pink on you," she teases.

"This is ridiculous, B," I mumble. "No one does this kind of stuff."

"Well, we're not just anyone," she points out, slipping an arm around my waist. "You and me, we're special."

"We're not the Chosen Two anymore," I remind her in a voice loud enough for only her to hear. "Kind of like two of the Chosen thousands now."

Her grin grows wider and she leans into me until I can feel her eyelashes flutter against my cheek. "I wasn't talking about the Slayer-thing." She nibbles on my earlobe.

There's a collective clearing of throats, and I reluctantly turn away from Buffy's hazel-green eyes to see everyone staring at us. Apparently they weren't finished with their speech giving.

"Geez, you guys." Dawn quips. She rolls her eyes. "Get a room."

The speeches continue like that for a while, everyone wanting to take a shot at either B or me, or both. But because B's got her arm around my waist and her head resting on my shoulder, the words just kind of blur together and sound like the adults on those Charlie Brown cartoons.

When it looks like the toasting has finally come to an end, Dawn starts the music back up and people start drinking, eating, and dancing. Buffy and I are kind of hovering around the food table, picking at stuff, but not really eating.

I walk up behind her. "So…think anyone would notice if we slipped out?" I husk into her ear.

My girl spins on her heels. "Faith!" she chastises me. "It's a party for us. We can't just leave."

I can't help it. I start to pout. "But I can't wait to get you by yourself."

Buffy smirks at me. "I thought you wanted to be in public with me?"

"Maybe I changed my mind," I grin.

"Oh?" She quirks a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "So you want me back in the Closet?"

I look around. "That's a good idea. Are there any closets we could hide out in? Just for a little while?"

Her hand slides into mine and our fingers seem to know the way because they immediately intertwine like this is what they were made to do. Forget being a Slayer. I was made to love this woman. And from the look coming from those deep, pooling, hazel-green eyes, I know that she was made to love me, too.

FIN