Afternoon rain is one of the most depressing sights known to human kind, especially following a dry morning. It was even more so for Buffy Summers.

She sat there, chin in hand, watching with mild melancholy as the rain battered the window of her office. The television that mumbled in the corner was telling her that the rain was set to last the whole evening. So much for her perfect anniversary plans.

Smoothing her hands up over her face she took a deep breath and held it, trying to centre herself. Or at least, try and find some positive in all of this. Maybe then she would find some inner peace, or maybe just stop the mind-drilling feeling that pounded from her temples right into the dead middle of her brain, where it manifested and made her feel like the skull was cracking open with each thump of her heart beat in her ears. She eyed her handbag, premeditatedly fully stocked with aspirin. Sucking in her cheeks and glimpsing the clock, she decided she would leave it a while. She loathed taking any sort of medicine, even if it was a true relief.

The telephone rang, making her groan. She made herself concentrate for a moment, smiling happily before she answered the phone, hoping that would help make her sound more pleasant, even if it did nothing to help her mood. The caller wanted put through to Giles, not her. She calmly explained that Rupert Giles was not there. Instead, he was out all day on a field trip to the local museum with some of the pupils that were enrolled at the Academy, but she was perfectly fine to take a message. He grunted at her in disinterest, and hung up. Her chipper smile dropped into the scowl she found herself sporting more and more frequently.

Sighing and leaning back in her chair, she again found herself pressing her pulsating temples with her fingertips, listening to the rattle of the wind and rain. The howling had started last night, strong winds cutting out the electric all over the region. It was freezing cold in bed, but she barely noticed. It seemed that all of her days consisted of an icy chill that had an origin she couldn’t fathom. One day she was fine and then next…

“Stupid rain,” she mumbled, again eyeing the handbag. The pain medication called to her, assuring her of fast acting relief. She shuddered; she hated swallowing pills, no matter how tempting they were.

Buffy and Faith had been together for two years, come tonight. Dinner reservations were at seven-thirty at a dinner downtown which had all of the cosy, friendly atmosphere which made Faith relax, and all the character that made Buffy smile. They found out fairly early in their relationship that neither of them could stand fancy restaurants, the ambience driving them insane. Young woman of the modern world or not, Buffy couldn’t stand the lack of frivolity that high end establishments held; so tense and showy. Faith downright hated the fact that the smallest meal came for the biggest price.

However, their problem tonight Buffy knew wasn’t anything to do with restaurant choice, or even the rain falling outside. No, their problems were closer connected to the snapping arguments, the lack of communication, and most importantly the absence of time to spend together.

In the beginning, their love had had such a youthful vibrancy. Their days held the joyous energy of the crystal clear river flowing freely down the mountain valley; so crisp and alive. Passion flowed between them, luring them to each other in a way neither had experienced before. But things began to tumble and slow. Suddenly it was like someone easing their foot off of the accelerator and onto the brakes.  Life caught up with them, overtaking them. Problems out of their control began to arise and engulf them; work, family, friends. Around the blissful oasis that she and Faith seemed to live in there was a terrible storm, one she had been determined that they would weather.

Now, however, they were strung out and weary, and most crucially, they stood an emotional ocean apart. So much time invested in other things meant they barely saw each other, except for breakfast, and they were not a fairground of domesticity eve then. Both of them were too busy desperately rushing out of the door in order to face the daily grind. It made Buffy almost physically ill to think about; motion sickness.

Ever since the turbulence began, Buffy had felt like something inside of her was dying, or that some chronic, paralyzing poison was gnawing at her insides, maybe it was her heart dying. She sure hoped that if it was, it wasn’t dead just yet. Increasingly, she found herself asking an essentially simple, and yet complicated question; had it always been this bad since she and Faith began to lose their grip on their relationship, or had it been growing steadily worse in an unstoppable free-fall?

Their relationship was crumbling before their very eyes and it was like neither of them could do anything to save it. Buffy grimaced and pressed the heel of her hand into her breast bone as the thoughts swirling into her mind caused the pain to move from her head and swell into her chest. It was that pain again, the emotional strain of the last few months bearing down on her in a single, crushing weight as she sat there. Clenching her teeth, she blinked at glared at the handbag beside her.

“Could definitely do with those pain killers now,” she muttered, reaching over for the bag.

Popping two onto the desk, she fumbled putting the rattling packet away and set the handbag back into its original resting place. A bottle of water was perched on the edge of the desk. It was out of place amongst the paper work, the chewed ballpoints and doodles which told the story of just how Buffy felt about slayers having office jobs. Especially when she has one thousand other things to do. This was a favour. One she decided fairly quickly that she will not be repeating.

Picking up the two small pills she cradled them in her hand and headed for the small utility room off of her office. The layout of the building that Giles chose for the academy is as spacious as it is peculiar. But they were lucky to get a spot so close to the Cleveland Hellmouth, and she thought that perhaps she had more to be grateful for than to complain about.

She gingerly laid the two tablets on the side of the small basin, before running the tap. The cool water made the back of her neck prickle in delight, and it was refreshing as she impulsively leaned in to splash some on her face. Straightening up, she caught the sight of herself, and gasped in skittish horror. Touching her pale face with trembling fingertips, she gawped at her reflection. Her face had become drawn, pinched and verging on thanatoid. It stuck her that she had only seen a face as pained and ashen as this once before; her mother’s face in the months following the announcement of her parent’s divorce, when she found out about Hank’s affair and Buffy’ s slayer activities forced her to start the arrangements for the move to Sunnydale, essentially splitting the family.

Putting the first pill into her mouth, Buffy cupped her hands under the water and scooped it up to take a drink. It was drinkable water, she’d had the hindsight to ask one hot day in the previous summer, when she had once again been covering the job for Giles, and had once again sworn she would never do this for him. She sighed; and yet here she was again.

She popped the second tablet into her mouth, but she didn’t swallow it, choosing instead to chew the acrid, sour tasting aspirin as she padded back behind the office desk. The TV was showing her the stock markets, something she had held neither understanding nor interest for. The vile aspirin made her wince in chagrin, but not more so that when she subconsciously slipped her hand into the pocket of her coat.

She closed her eyes upon feeling the hardened paper edge; the plane ticket.

Discreetly before he left on the field trip this morning, Giles had taken her aside and given her a proposal which her brain wouldn’t for a second allow her to refuse. Buffy was offered a three month mission to Western Africa to held aid relief for slayers under a critical demon threat in Sierra Leone, Senegal and up towards Mauritania. Eight hours in a flying tin can wasn’t ideal but Buffy knew that it was her duty. It was a huge stretch of coast, as well as warm, dry country, and with so much ground to cover, as well as such a crippling situation, Giles needed a leader with experience. Where else would he need to go but to his own charge?

She pulled the ticket out, smoothing it down onto the top of the desk. The coloured stripes on the top of the ticket as well as the sparkling silver writing of the ticket mocked and jeered at her in the otherwise dull, grey of the room. She thought this was the best idea, to spend some time apart. Doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder? The sour feeling inside told her that she was so in love with Faith, and she wanted things to be right between them again, but living in such a busy world was killing them both. Arguments were being conjured nowhere, paranoid choking them both. Their heads made up stories and lies and they became suspicions at the drop of a hat. Just last week, Buffy had accused Faith of cheating on her, and both of them had ended up spewing some extremely hurtful, spiteful things.

Buffy swallowed the bitter tasting pill, biting her lower lip. Breaking up with Faith would tear her apart, she knew that. But she also knew that the stalemate of the status quo had to be broken through. This ticket provided the most obvious way. She would go out for dinner with Faith tonight, they’d come home, got to bed, and in the morning, the first quiet morning for a few weeks either way, Buffy would calmly explain about the mission. She left next Saturday.

Honestly, she had no idea how Faith would take it. She could be caring and understanding, which was a side to her girlfriend that apparently Buffy only saw. Her temper could flare and there would be a devastating argument. Worst case scenario was that by this time tomorrow she was single. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. That thought hurt. It was searing, and she forced herself to think about their anniversary, the gift that she’d bought Faith; a set of ancient daggers, a collectable set that Faith had had her eye on for quite some time. That successfully decreased the pain to a mild throbbing.

Inhaling deeply, she let the breath out in a slow whoosh, her mind taken back to what Willow once told her; release it really, really slowly and you can get all the negative air out! It didn’t work, but Buffy wasn’t rude enough to tell the perky witch that to her face. Buffy grimaced and rubbed her forehead. Either way, this was going to be a long night.

And still the rain hounded the window.

Across the city, pacing frantically with her hands deep into her hair, her partner was the exact opposite. Where Buffy was calm, collected, almost clinical in her fretting, Faith was frazzled; truly at the end of her tether. The rain and wind was shaking the glass in the window pane but she barely noticed it with the hurricane whirling in her head. It was as if she couldn’t even hold a sentence of thought, images flashed in technicolour but she couldn’t hold onto them for a fraction of a second before another replaced it, and another, and so on. In only her shorts and one of Buffy’s T shirts, Faith until her bare feet was numb to the chill of the tiled kitchen floor.

She wanted to wear Buffy’s shirt because it smelled like her girlfriend. She thought the familiar scent of fruity body wash and heady birthday present perfume would bring her comfort, maybe even rest, but it had the opposite effect than of the desired. The familiar smells from the soft cotton shirt was more like an amercement than a release. The stinging of her eyes told her that. She wasn’t stupid, she knew that things were falling apart. Too many holes to plug in the sinking boat. It wasn’t their fault, they both knew that. And perhaps that’s why it hurt them so much. She had been so scared to fall in love with Buffy, afraid that the passionate heat that had gently simmered between them for so many years would grow too hot and consume them both.

Now she just felt cold.

On cue, her both shivered. And then her stomach contracted. Still bare foot she dashed for the downstairs bathroom. Every surface was immaculate, had been since she’d scrubbed every inch just an hour ago. Throwing up made her horribly self-conscious, and suddenly every speck of dirt was the enemy. She’d cleaned the small bathroom from top to bottom, and then resumed the pacing that had begun since she skipped her breakfast and her mind had started its debatable of making her feel even worse about both herself and her relationship.

Not to mention the killer news she had to share.

Her knees aching from the sudden cold tiles against her bare skin, she wretched until her stomach muscles finally eased off and let her rest. Flushing the toilet and slumping against the bathroom wall, Faith was despaired. She held her head in her hands and softly began to cry; or at least she tried to. She was too restless to sit and cry, much less feel sorry for herself. Jumping up, she washed her hands, rubbing them ruthlessly raw with lemon scented soap, and then strode back through the kitchen towards the dull living room.

The grey of the clouds overhead made everything seem so grey. Even their red sofa seemed lifeless. It was a sofa that she had lazed so many afternoons away on; nursing Buffy when she was sick, snuggling with her under blankets in cold weather, making love to her when they were too heated to make it upstairs. Yes, the couch held such memory and life, yet sat so lifeless and dead to her now. She twisted around to catch the matching red armchair. She gravitated towards it; she sat down. She stood up once more. Wringing her hands and swallowing down lingering bile, she took breaths through her nose and began at the beginning, once more running through the facts.

Tonight was her anniversary. Tonight was the night she wanted to be flawless. Tonight was also the night she would tell Buffy that she was pregnant.

She clenched her jaw and watched water slipping down the glass panes as she let the news once more sink through her panic and still her for a moment. No matter how much time elapsed, and how many time she pictured the positive pregnancy test from last Tuesday in her hands, shock hit her in unbridled waves.

Faith rubbed her sweaty palms together and ran past her story once more. The truth was totally unbelievable, but what else was she supposed to tell Buffy? Two and a half months ago, she had been walking through the Academy building, looking for Willow. She had been sent on an errand; held a note with an important message for the witch. While waiting in the empty office, Faith had noticed a dark substance in a glass. With it being such a hot summer’s day, she was parched, and with one final sneaky peer around she lifted the glass and sniffed it. It smelt fruity, and that was good enough for Faith, who gulped the refreshing liquid and set it back down without a second thought.

She had smiled triumphantly, her thirst momentarily sated. Had she looked once more, however, she would have seen that the glass was in fact a scientific beaker, the numbers and measurements hidden by such dark liquid that had previously held residence in it. Willow, before she vacated the office, had been working on fertility potions, as a long running matter of personal interest. It wasn’t for personal use quite yet, but it was something that had captivated the witch. It went unnoticed until two weeks to the day after, when Faith was roused from her afternoon nap by the ringing of her cell phone.

“Red?”

“Uh, Faith! Remember…that…message you had for me two weeks ago?”

Faith had scrunched up her features in sleepy discomfort. “Not really?”

“Okay, that’s…i—it’s not the important part. What’s important is that dark liquid that was sitting on my desk. Did…did you pour it out?”

Faith had closed her eyes and sat up from her place reclining over the covers on the guest room bed. She dug the hell of her free hand into her eyes and shook the hazy mask of sleep from her mind before yawning and answering. “Nah, but it was the fruity stuff, right? Damn, that was good. All appley and all. What was that?”

“You drank it?” Willow had squealed.

The slayer had winced and pulled her phone away from her ear. “Yeah, why? It was a warm day and that stuff—”

“Faith that wasn’t a drink!”

Faith’s eyes had widened so much they burned in her skull. She was waiting for Willow to hand her a death sentence, for her to solemnly inform Faith that the dark liquid had in fact been an ancient poison and that she was about to spend the last days of her life in a feverish hell.

“F—Faith t—that…did you copulate with B-Buffy within twenty-four hours after?”

She had. Little did she know that the drink wasn’t a poison. It was a fertility potion. And now…

Faith tottered up the carpeted stairs, intent on lying down to quell the spinning of her head. She remembered how she had sworn Willow to secrecy. That perhaps they had been lucky and their cycles hadn’t linked up; as personal and frankly unsavoury as Faith deemed it was, it was still what she hoped for. But no such luck. She knew the very first day that her breasts swelled and grew sensitive. And then the sickness began. She let it pass off as bad food poisoning for a while, fobbing Buffy off on half-truths for weeks. Eventually, she gave in. She told Willow. She took the test. She even went three days ago for the blood test.

She was pregnant.

Reaching the bedroom, she dragged her feet languidly as she caught sight of the anniversary presents she had purchased for her girlfriend; a huge teddy about a metre high and a cross necklace engraved with their initials. She swallowed as she scooped the black necklace box up, cradling it in her cupped hands. Gingerly she pried the box open, tearing up at the pure sparkle of the silver even in such mild daylight. One hand still firmly holding the box, she wiped furiously at the unexpected tears with the other.

“Fucking hormones,” she hissed to the room, closing the box and gliding to set it on the dresser before returning to the edge of the bed and sinking down onto it. For a while she sat there, staring at the small gap of carpet between her bare feet. For some reason, she had no idea why, she remembered how Buffy had accused her of cheating just last week. The reason being was she was always having whispery, secretive phone calls and had become extremely defensive over her texts and emails. The truth was that it because she had come into closer contact with Willow as they debated details and decisions back and forth.

Faith inhaled sharply at the pain in her chest as the tears came once more, unstoppable to her now. She curled on her side, bringing the teddy she had for Buffy down into the centre of the bed and holding it close. She buried her face into its soft, plush head as the tears kept coming, her arms squeezing it tightly as her body shook with jerking sobs. She had never felt so alone, or hopeless, even in all of those dark Boston years, or the times when she and Buffy hadn’t seen eye to eye back in Sunnydale. This was huge. This was more than her as a slayer, or a lover, or a fighter or even a woman. This was, potentially, her as a mother. And she hadn’t come to terms with the full definition of that yet. Yes, her body had been going through serious changes, the symptoms et al. But she hadn’t fully comprehended the concept that there was life physically growing inside of her womb.

Clenching her eyes shut, Faith pushed her face further into the teddy, drowning herself in its comfort. It wasn’t alive, it didn’t move or speak or think. But holding something seemed to help her somehow. Over the last while, the last few weeks especially, most nights Buffy and she would be coming home at different times. The worst times were when one of them was in bed before the other returned. Both of them exhausted, they wouldn’t wake the slumbering woman to make love, or even talk. The majority of their time spent together was at breakfast. But for Faith, nothing hurt more than the cold space between her and Buffy when they weren’t holding each other, choosing instead to stay close to their own side of the large bed they shared.

The sound of the rain crackling against the window almost drowned out the sound of Faith’s broken lonely weeping.

Almost, but not quite.

The sounds of chairs scrapping on the floor and cutlery clicking plates around them were, for a while, successful enough to distract them from the suffocating atmosphere they found themselves diving further into with every cleared throat, awkward piece of small talk and shift of avoiding eyes. Now, after splitting the bill and politely thanking the good waiting skills of the poor teenagers roped into working on a Saturday night, they walked hand in hand towards the coatroom. Both of them work strained grins as they felt the expectancy of the conversations that had weighed them down through the entire meal. Their issues were at the forefront of their minds at all time, no matter how hard they attempted to forget about them. As Faith smiled softly and helped Buffy shrug into the soft blue trench coat, she tried not to think of a close call that had come earlier in the evening.

As a general rule, they would order a cheese platter to stave off the hunger until their main meal was ready. Neither of them were fond on starters, and the biggest flaw of their favourite restaurant was that it took so long to prepare their meals. Therefore, the pair would tuck into cheese and crackers, despite it being a traditional after-dinner snack. Red wine was the regular accompaniment. The pregnant woman knew, of course, from her panicked researching of the last week of what to expect, that it was unwise for her to consume either alcohol or some of the softer cheeses that would pose possible risks through the acidic properties they held. Buffy was certainly perplexed.

"But Faith, we always get this…?"

"Uh, yeah but I'm just…just not feeling it tonight, B."

"Is it the wine? Would you prefer to simply drink a soft drink, or maybe coffee?"

Faith had scrambled to come up with an excuse for why coffee would be even worse. It wore her out.

Exiting the restaurant, Buffy immediately wrestled to put up their umbrella, still damp from their use of it on the way to the establishment. Their car wasn’t far away, something both of them appreciated as a crack of thunder and lightning broke the sky overhead. Despite the ambivalence of each other’s mood, they held hands as they made their way to the car. Both of them didn’t notice each others’ nervousness; didn’t pick up on the fact that both of them had sweaty palms. Rain splashed the dark tarmac and sidewalks, but they made it into the car without too much hassle.

Buffy grimaced and shook the umbrella down before gently settling it down between her feet. Faith already had the engine going, heater on, lights on, and a death grip on the steering wheel. After offering a tight smile to Buffy, they set off. Buffy gazed out into the dark street as it passed her, shop windows and orange street lights blurred by the merciless onslaught of the rain were her only escape from the anticipating atmosphere inside of the car. She thought about the gift-giving they would do when they got home. Maybe it was a better idea to tell Faith now about her news, rather than leaving it until morning. From the wane smiles they had passed to each other all evening, she had to know there was something wrong.

Distracting herself from the uptight pressure of her brain, Buffy leaned over to turn on the radio. As she was met with static crackling, she winced and began to push for a better reception. Muffled, distorted voices were growing clearing and louder, and with a small sound of triumph she continued her search for the channel that the voice came from. She regretted it, given the nature of the tense car journey, as Whitney Houston’s powerful belting chorus rang out around the inside of the jeep—

“And I…Will always love you…!”

Her breathing hitched in her throat, lodging until she had to clear it, Buffy quickly moving onwards to search for a more suitable song. Soft guitar pickings drifted from the speakers, and she relaxed a little, thinking that this was a possible improvement. She so desperately didn’t want anything to get more awkward or suffocating that it was now.

“So take the photographs and still frames in your mind…hang them up on a shelf in good health and good time…”

Buffy recognized the melody, the lyrics and even the band, and this made her sit back and listen for a while. There was something about the rough voice with such a bittersweet song that made her want to listen on to the acoustics. Faith blinked and turned a corner, blowing out a breath at the song, but also at Buffy’s continued silence. One of them would have to break it, they hadn’t uttered a single word since the restaurant and it was getting overwhelming.

She cleared her throat. “So, uh, that song, huh? Good one, actually. You know the story?”

Buffy glanced over at Faith, who kept her eyes fixed on the dark road ahead of her, her eyes occasionally flickering with the movements of the windshield wipers. “No, I don’t,” Buffy said softly.

“It’s actually this song about, uh, his girlfriend leaving, y’know? And umm…” She licked her dry lips nervously. “And so she’s going and he’s telling her good riddance, basically. And the song itself is like, bitter. But it’s not, mean, y’know?”

Buffy felt like the car had stopped. Or crashed. Or maybe both. But as soon as Faith described the meaning behind the song, she shook her head and twitched her eye before she lurched forward to once more change the channel once more. That hit a little too close to home.

Another melancholy rhythm was struck up in between the fuzzy snaps of the radio being affected by the storm.

“…All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong?”…

Faith scowled, her first proper negative reaction to the music crooning from the radio. “Come on, B try to find something decent already.”

Buffy sucked the inside of her cheeks and switched the frequency. A hard, driving drum thumped with industrial overtones as both women froze up at the sound of the sound.

“I wanna fuck you like an animal…I wanna feel you from the inside…”

Could they even stand to look at one another long enough to have sex tonight? Faith doubted it. They were both so tense that they could do with the relief of passionate release but there were too many emotional issues that needed to be waded through first. Not least the child inside of her. She shifted in her seat and counted down the seconds until Buffy’s anxious freeze up would turn into action. The blonde slayer quickly flicked the channel once more. The 80’s funk bass and synthesizers did nothing to improve their mood.

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down. Never gonna—”

Buffy groaned as she finally gave up, turning the radio off and slumping back into her seat. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, hoping that maybe she’d wake up and all of her problems would have disappeared. Fat chance, she knew it, but there was always hope in dreaming it.

Faith was at breaking point. She thought that if she confessed, then everything would fade away. It was like she couldn’t imagine live going on past the point when she told Buffy she was pregnant. There was a hole in her soul and the only was t cease it was to come out and tell Buffy what she had every right to know. That is why twenty minutes from home, Faith gave in.

“B, I think we need to address the elephant in the room here,” she hedged quietly, her stomach churning.

Buffy snorted, but her voice wasn’t bitter, just tired as she remarked, ”Faith, there isn’t an elephant. There’s a whole frickin’ zoo.” She turned her head to gauge her partner’s seriousness, and she was almost taken aback by how pained Faith’s face was. She bowed her head before waving a vague hand. “How about pulling into the park. We shouldn’t have to drag this out for another twenty minutes.”

Faith’s vision swam a little as she pulled into the empty parking lot near the park. It was where they had spent many sunny afternoons walking hand in hand, smiling and waving to the children playing tag on the luscious lawns, dog owners throwing frizz bees and other couples that they recognized. It had been so long since they had spent such an afternoon. The knowledge hit them both simultaneously as they happened to park near their favourite bench, where Faith would grin in the sunshine, close her eyes and throw her arm around Buffy. Life was good, back then. Faith swallowed heavily as she turned off the engine, and the car shuddered to a complete halt. Neither of them dared to draw a noisy breath, not wanting to interrupt the attacking of the car with the pelts of the rain.

“So,” Buffy finally said, staring straight ahead. “I guess we both have some…news to share.”

Faith clenched her jaw and dropped her head. “Yes,” she said softly.

Buffy flickered her eyes over to her girlfriend. Faith looked absolutely petrified, and heartbroken as well. Faintly Buffy wondered if this truly was the end. She hoped it wasn’t, the depths of her soul burning with the words which tumbled forth.

“Faith…I’m not cheating on you. And I’m…there’s no one else,” she blurted.

Faith’s eyes almost shot out of her skull as her head whipped up to stare blankly at the blonde. “W—what?”She spluttered.

Buffy back-pedalled. “I—I thought maybe…maybe you thought…”

“No!” Faith breathed, running her hands over her scalp and linking them at the back of her neck. “God no. Why would…?” She shook her head, taking a long inhale. “Look, we both have some big news, right? I’m getting that from how tense this is. You wanna go first?”

Buffy licked her lips, and then reached for her coat, plunging a hand in her pocket. Her house keys rattled, and she brought out her hand to reveal a shiny coin. “We’ll flip for it.” Faith couldn’t help quirking an eyebrow, but mutely nodded her agreement. “You’re heads, I’m tails.” Again, Faith just nodded. Buffy flicked the coin with her thumb, it flipped through the air, and landed on tails. Buffy sucked in a sharp breath. “Guess I’m first,” she whispered.

With a rush of blood to the head, Buffy thought the best way to break the news was to just come out with it.

“I’m leaving.”

Faith wheezed out a breath like it had been physically knocked from her lungs, her eyes huge as they fixed on Buffy’s in shock. Buffy couldn’t believe how hard hitting the words were as soon as she’d said them. It was like she wanted to reach out a grasp them from the air, find a softer, easier way to announce her departure and break it better. But she couldn’t. It was out there.

Faith didn’t react. Didn’t move a muscle. Buffy went almost hyperventilated as she got lost in the depthless dark eyes boring into her vacantly. She desperately fished in her pocket for her plane ticket, dumbly showing it to Faith, as if presenting evidence of her words would take some of the stinging, suffocating shock out of the air. If Faith cried, wept, snarled, screamed, anything, she’d find relief. Because any reaction at all was better than this.

“I—I’m going on a mission to West Africa. Giles asked this morning and…and I said yes because I think that it would be the perfect opportunity to spend some time apart. Life it’s…it’s been hard recently. And we’re falling apart at the seams. I t—thought this would be good for us,” she gushed, her voice growing smaller and more timid.

Faith finally tore her eyes away, but they only managed to go as far as her lap. Her hands were shaking violently, and though she tried to blink them away, tears welled. “How long?” She rasped hoarsely.

“Three months,” Buffy uttered.

Faith threw her head back, wiping her tears away, before fixing Buffy with a hollow glare. “Good for you,” she mumbled, before yanking at the door hand and storming from the car. Buffy gasped at the slam of the door, throwing up her hands as Faith strode out into the downpour.

“Faith!” She shouted, not hesitating as she too left the car in order to go after her girlfriend.

“Faith, come on I’m sorry!” She yelled, trotting to catch up with Faith, who suddenly stopped dead. The smaller woman came to a standstill as well, watching Faith’s shoulder as they shook in the rain. Buffy was already drenched, and she hugged her arms around her slim waist as she shivered. “Come back to the car. We can talk there, not here!” She cried, her voice strained over the sound of the pouring rain.

Faith slowly turned to face Buffy, her face stricken. Buffy blinked as she saw how red rimmed Faith’s eyes were; wet not from the rain but from her own tears. It was then she remembered that Faith had news of her own. All at once, she subconsciously started to link all the worst possible outcomes to Faith’s reaction; she was sick, she was dying, someone close to her had died, she was leaving too. Buffy’s heart was beating more wildly than a rabbit darting away from a rabid fox.

“Faith…” She said carefully. “What was your news?”

Something jerked Faith’s chest, and then a low, bitter laugh bubbled out. She clutched at her sides as empty eyes watched Buffy’s face contort into hurt and confusion. “You wanna know my big story, B? Alright, I’ll bite,” Faith said. “Better buckle up, blondie, it’s a good one.”

Buffy grimaced as icy cold droplets of water slipped down the back of her neck and down her spine. “Can we go back to the car?”

Faith scowled. “I think we’ll stay right where we are.”

Buffy’s body trembled with the cold but she was determined to stand there and stick it out if Faith was. It was almost like a challenge but something dangerous and lost flickering behind Faith’s hard stare told Buffy that there was something more to this. It was the same look that Buffy knew meant that Faith was close to breaking down completely, to crumbling in the face of something she felt like she couldn’t handle. It was an expression she had come to know well after they had been through difficult battles together.

“See, couple months ago I headed to Red’s office. Wicked hot day, y’know? She had this glass of fruit juice sitting on the table. I figured, she’s not around so why waste it? I drank it all and it was great,” she explained, her hands coming up in emphatic gestures as if this story telling was normal as they stood there, the rain battering their chilled bodies.

“Faith, I don’t get why you’re telling me this?” Buffy shot back, wiping cold water rivulets from her face.

Faith licked her lips. “It wasn’t a drink. It was a female fertility potion.” Buffy frowned, opening her mouth but Faith held up her hand, guffawing menacingly. Buffy tensed her jaw, hating the fact it felt like she was being mocked when she knew deep down that probably wasn’t Faith’s intention. “It was for same sex couples,” she said, slower.

“But then why…” It hit Buffy at once. She saw as all of the fight left Faith’s eyes, leaving behind a terrified young woman on the brink of something that she was lost in. Buffy saw Faith as a prisoner in her own body with no escape, a broken, lonely soul. Buffy ached for her, as she registered her own hands covering her mouth in shock. “Oh Faith…” She said faintly, not heard over the barrage of rain on the soaking grass beneath their feet.

Faith tried to speak, but it got caught in her throat. She tried again, her hands wrapping around her own abdomen. “I’m pregnant.”

Buffy ran to her immediately, throwing her arms around Faith’s neck and pressing her face close into her shoulder as Faith’s barriers finally collapsed. Sobs shook her body, and she could barely catch her breath. Buffy rubbed her back and closed her eyes, the news washing over her but not fully sinking in. “Faith, breathe,” she urged, coaxing the taller slayer to calm down a little. Faith didn’t stop crying, her arms finally coming up to grasp at Buffy’s dress, holding her close with a grip so tight that Buffy wasn’t sure she’d ever let go.

“Please,” Faith begged, “Please no.”

“Faith, it’s okay. I’m here,” Buffy assured her, not stroking the damp locks of dark hair.

“Please don’t leave me. I can’t do this on my own,” Faith choked, so vulnerable and broken that Buffy’s own tears slipped down her rosy, flushed cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not if you need me. I promise,” she said, arms tightening around her girlfriend.

In her own struggle with life, Buffy had completely missed Faith falling apart over her secret; so nescient, ignorant, naive. Now she held Faith’s body close to hers, feeling the warmth of her contrasting with the icy touch of the rain, still coming down heavily in the air around them. The heat penetrated the cold demeanour she’d developed over the last few weeks, ruminating in her very soul. Despite everything in that moment, Buffy began to smile. Her heart of stone was broken, the ice was melting. She could feel it again. That connection that was so raw between them. Most of all she felt love.

Placing a kiss on Faith’s head, Buffy continued to hold her close and decided that she would stand there in the freezing rain as long as Faith needed her to, regardless of however long that may be. 

The cheap, twenty-four hour diner was mostly empty, and not even the droopy-eyed, snoozy waitress gave the two women a second glance, despite them both having dripped rain water the whole way from the door with creaking hinges to the booth they sat at now. Everything about this meagre, greasy place matched their sombre mood; from the corner of the roof cracked with damp and leaking water to the jarred bell above the door which no longer pinged when a customer entered.

When Faith had pulled herself together enough to shove Buffy away from her and fist defiantly at her tears, she had waned nothing more than to be alone with the teeming thoughts she found herself trying to combat, but the stubborn blonde slayer had insisted they needed to talk it all through. Against her wishes, Faith agreed, but refused to return home in favour or going somewhere neutral.

After a short car ride and a few minutes of contemplation, Buffy admitted internally that it was the right decision. Being at home, in a place so familiar would suffocate them both in their heightened state of shock and emotion. Their home was a place filled with domestic aura full of happier times, and their impending conversation, which could be potentially venomous and extremely pressurized, would be unwise to be held there. Regardless of how intense their lashing emotions got, the night would be a long one.

Occupying opposite sides of the booth, both women had their hands cupped around hot steaming beverages, trying not to involuntarily shiver as they sat in their wet clothes. Buffy drank coffee, and Faith, unable and unwilling to ingest caffeine in her pregnant state, sat with a cup of strongly brewed tea. She wasn’t all that fond of the drink, however right then it possessed a warmth which travelled down to her stomach and spread throughout her; bringing comfort to her chilled bones.

Fight down a shudder from the frosty air lying dormant around them, Buffy bit her lip and glanced over at Faith, who was dragging the tip of her forefinger around the edge of her mug. She cleared her throat, and immediately cringed at how loud it seemed. Even the waitress raised an eyebrow at her from where she was leaning over a TV magazine.

“So that’s why you’ve been getting sick, huh?” Buffy asked, her tone free of any malice or accusation. It was arguably the biggest epiphany of her life, but she tried to keep her tone neutral, disguising all trace of revelation in her voice.

“Yeah. Food poisoning wouldn’t keep a slayer down for that long,” Faith replied sullenly, keeping her eyes low; even when she knew her girlfriend was trying hard to meet her gaze.

“Figures,” Buffy breathed, giving up on attempting eye contact to watch a fat fly hovering above their heads. It buzzed and flew in lethargic circles, before landing on the fluorescent light. Buffy watched with a jolt of sadness as it crawled through the thin metal wire and found its swift demises in electrocution. The slayer blinked and thought about how it could spend its time weaving lazily through its short life, just to have it end in an instant without warning. Just a flash, unseen in the long term. Buffy snorted softly, sipping her coffee. Ironic, she thought.

Faith swallowed thickly and trailed the pad of her thumb over the rim of the mug and down the curve of its handle as she organized her thoughts. She had always been good at compartmentalizing, especially over the last few weeks, but now everything was tumbling down and falling apart. She focused on fleeting snippets of possible previews of just how easily or badly the conversation could go. Searching every ounce of her sense and reason she tried to anchor herself to something that would be an understandable starting point, as well as being a safe approach. She came up short.

Settling on shrugging in pathetic defeat, Faith wiped a drop of tea away from the side of the mug, and whispered, “What the hell are we gonna do, B?”

The side of Buffy’s mouth quirked into a wry smile while she considered the question and tried to comb through her damp hair with her fingers. They just got tangled, so she gave up and sighed heavily.

“We could…go home, get undressed. Attempt to make love but fail because after five minutes we just aren’t that into it. So we fall asleep facing away from each other and pretend we are better people than we really are,” Buffy muttered, before turning up her nose in disgust and chugging down the rest of the cheap, tasteless coffee. She completely missed the horrified expression on Faith’s face. “Wow,” she remarked, gazing at the brown stains in the bottom of the mug. “We really are running scenes from my parent’s marriage.”

Faith just shook her head and scoffed, turning her head to stare sourly out at the darkness of the night. Rain continued to punch every creature, living or otherwise, which found itself outside. In the shine off the lights on the window, Faith could see her reflection, which only looked half as drained as she felt.

“And here I thought you were gonna be the optimistic one,” Faith stated bluntly, not taking her blank stare from the glimmering eyes of her reflection.

“Oh come on, Faith. If neither of us find the funny to side to this, we’re both gonna go neurotic,” Buffy said.

“Comforting. Thanks B. That puts everything into perspective,” Faith sneered sarcastically, raising Buffy her mug of tea before finishing the drink off.

Buffy rolled her eyes and slumped back into the booth. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and drummed her fingernails on the tabletop. Despite two years together, Faith was still incredibly difficult to navigate emotionally. The blonde thought that she was slightly better in her ability to read her partner, but it was still hit and miss.

“Look, Faith,” she tried calmly. “This is a huge, huge shock to the system here.”

“I’m the one carrying your stupid love child,” Faith complained, before groaning and running her hands through her wet locks. She closed her eyes, and then something struck her. “B?”

“Yeah?” Buffy replied, grimacing at a discoloured, stained patch of the booth near her. “What?”

“Are we…?” Faith opened her eyes, waiting until she had Buffy’s full attention pulled away from the patch on the leather booth. “Are we gonna keep it?” She asked lowly.

Buffy inhaled sharply, held it for a moment, and then nodded. “Of course I mean…why wouldn’t we?” She said just as low.

Faith gingerly palmed her stomach through her sodden shirt, losing herself in her mind’s eyes for a moment as her eyes dart across the surface of the table in front of her. When her brown eyes met Buffy’s they were full of the debating battle that raged inside of her head. “What if we can’t support it financially? Or…jeez, B, what if we can’t make it as parents? I’m gonna be a shit mother.”

“Faith,” Buffy scolded, reaching for Faith’s hand. It evaded her, Faith scooting backwards to press herself against her side of the booth. Buffy tried to hide the hurt she felt behind an artificial smile. “We’ll get there, okay? We can do this. You can do this.” Faith opened her mouth to protest but Buffy shook her head adamantly. “You can. I believe in you.”

“Of course you do,” Faith hissed, eyes flashing with pent up anger. “You’re all gung-ho about this sitch but you’re packing off on a worldly holiday for three months. When you come back I’ll be almost six months. Will you be so excited then, huh?”

Buffy felt like she’d just received blunt force trauma to the back of the head. She realized two things in that moment; one, that she needed to cut down on the amount of procedural crime dramas she was watching when she slacking between her classes at the Academy, and also Faith was right. Buffy was leaving her to head for a perilous mission in Africa. What if Faith was left alone to raise this child? Her own eyes dashed across the surface of the grimy table before she blew out a breath and looked her partner straight in the eye.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I do know one thing.” Faith narrowed her eyes, but waved a hand in a gesture for Buffy to continue her thought process. “We can make it together,” she said firmly.

Faith let out a bitter, hollow chuckle. “Really, B? Just like we’ve been hopping along nicely over the last few weeks? Months?”

“Fine, okay? I’ll admit that everything hasn’t exactly been…tickety-boo, but that doesn’t mean we have to punish our future for it,” Buffy argued. Her brows met as she laced her hands together. “You wanna know what I think?”

“Oh yeah. Feed me your wisdom, oh great overlord,” Faith spat, but her voice was softer than she expected it to be. Truth was, even she noticed how her voice cracked in the middle. Nerves, contempt, fear. A whiff of anger and a larger still dose of helplessness.

“I think that you’re scared, Faith. But that’s okay cause so am I, now that I’ve…taken a moment to process this whole deal,” Buffy breathed. This time, as she offered her hand for Faith to take, the brunette slayer’s hand twitched but it did entwine with her girlfriend’s, accepting the show of physical support with an exhale of relief. “Are you scared, Faith?”

“Terrified,” Faith murmured, a shy smile flickering on her face, clashing with a hint of a frown as Buffy squeezed her hand. “How are we gonna tell the superbuddies?

Buffy gently shook her head. “That doesn’t matter right now,” she assured softly, as Faith flashed her a grateful expression across the table.

Neither of them pushed for anything else, they just stared into each other’s eyes until the feeling of their hearts racing in their chests overtook everything else and slow smiles took root, growing on each other’s faces. Faith caressed the back of Buffy’s hand with her thumb, wetting her lips with a flicker of the tip of her tongue before she smirked.

“I’ve missed you,” Faith whispered, winking slyly, but coyness in her features gave away her full meaning.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Buffy replied, squeezing Faith’s hand in hers once more.

“C’mere,” Faith said, lifting up her arm. Buffy raised an unimpressed eyebrow before Faith patted her side of the booth and scooted over to make room for the blonde. “There’s room in this wet, horrible, heavy coat for two.”

Laughing airily, Buffy tsked, but slipped over to sit under Faith’s arm anyway. She rested her head on Faith’s shoulder and had a strange sensation overcome her for a moment. It was the feeling of coming home into the warm fire and sitting down to dinner when you’ve spent all day out in the snow. Faith tightened her arm around Buffy’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head. Finally sharing her secret filled her with ecstasy of relief, and the support from her girlfriend made her feel invincible. The arduous turbulence which had endeavoured to separate them dissipated into the air.

And in a cheap diner on a stormy night, they finally found their peace.

Fall of the following year was crisp, the winter sweeping in and exerting itself with ice and bare trees rather early compared to what some expected. Regardless, it wasn’t cold for Buffy, who was stirring a steaming bowl of soup that she had prepared for lunch, while listening to the pops and snaps of the logs on the fire through in the living room. She wore a smile she found impossible to erase every time she caught the now familiar sound of her lover’s voice paired with the eruption of delighted, squealing laughter.

Wiping her hands down on the front of her apron before precariously pushing a stray, dangling tendril of hair behind her ear, Buffy padded over to the door of the living room. She leaned against the frame, her expression both warm and fond as she crossed her arms over her chest. No light was on in the room, not even the TV, but the red glow of the fire cast dancing shadows along every surface. Faith didn’t notice, sitting on the soft, carpeted floor with her legs out in front of her. The baby lay on her thighs, wiggling and giggling as she gently ticked her stomach.

Buffy tilted her head and thought about the last fifteen months. After three months in the arid, austere plains of West Africa, Buffy came home to a warm reception. Her intentions from the plan to spend time apart had worked; Faith received her with open arms; very open arms. Of course, Buffy remembered, smirking and scuffing her toe on the carpet as Faith made faces at the laughing baby; it may have been the hormones. On the twenty-seventh of January, Emily Lehane was born to a pair of elated, sobbing slayers on the point of delirium.

Faith finally glanced up to see Buffy standing there.  Her sheepishly grinning face was tinted orange with the amber of the fire. “Creeping on me, B?” She joked, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

Buffy laughed, coming down to kneel beside her lover. She ran one hand affectionately over Emily’s head, the child gurgling as if in approval at seeing her second mother. The day that Emily was born was the day that Buffy finally realized that no matter how tough the road had been, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Faith. This was her family now. She adored the Scooby Gang, who took well to the fact that they were now aunties and uncles, showering both the baby and the parents with gifts, as well as making themselves readily available to help wherever and whenever they could.

“Halloween is coming up soon,” Faith remarked offhandedly, glancing out of the window at the grey October day.

“Yeah,” Buffy replied. “You gonna scare away the trick or treaters like last year?”

Faith chuckled, glimpsing a half-smiling Buffy out of the corner of her eye, letting the crackles of the fire fill the comfortable silence for a while as she contemplated the question. “Nah, I don’t think I could. Maybe just the rude ones.”

“Faith, all of them are rude according to you,” Buffy said, ribbing her lover with an elbow before pressing her forehead to Faith’s temple, both of them staring down at the bundle on Faith’s lap. For a moment, the whole world was the three of them, nothing else mattered; as if the fire burning and lighting the dark room was the only light they would ever need and the world existing outside the brick walls of the house was nothing but a dream. With a content sigh, Buffy turned and pressed a loving, lingering kiss to Faith’s temple, who hummed as she pulled away.

“I made soup for lunch,” Buffy said softly, before her eyes once again got caught up in the sight of her daughter on Faith’s lap.

Faith nodded, kissing Buffy’s cheek, jaw line and then her lips once more before she gently lifted the baby into her arms. “You dish it out and I’ll put her down for a nap.”

“Sounds good,” Buffy said cheerily, standing up again and watching Faith carry Emily out of the room. Every time she watched Faith interact with their daughter, she couldn’t believe it. Her lover was so maternal, and protective, but she was also softer in everything from smiling to when she spoke with people. Buffy knew that since she first met the brazen woman, Faith had grown up, but this was something else entirely. It was as if she had more of an awareness and appreciation of both the world around her and the people that inhabited it. And Buffy couldn’t have been more proud.

Arms slipped to link around her waist as she finished serving the soup out into the two bowls. Buffy tilted her head to the side as tender kisses rained from just below her ear to her shoulder, where Faith was deterred from advancing because of the fabric of Buffy’s shirt. She huffed slightly, before turning the smaller woman around to face her. They share a sly smile, Buffy raising her hands to cradle Faith’s face and caress her high cheekbones with brushes of the side of her thumb bones.

“You’re so beautiful,” Buffy whispered, referring to the radiance of Faith’s skin and the shimmer of her dark eyes in the lights of the kitchen.

“Ah, you flatter me, Summers,” Faith muttered, dipping her head to kiss Buffy chastely, running her hands up to tease the hem of her shirt.

“Faith,” Buffy murmured, muffled by her lips on her girlfriend’s. “What about Emily…?”

“She’s sleeping,” Faith dismissed, travelling butterfly kisses down Buffy’s jaw.

“And the soup?”

“We own a microwave, don’t we?” Faith said huskily, ghosting her lips over Buffy’s ear, and grinning at the shiver that went through the smaller slayer. Her hands tripping down to the backs of Buffy’s thighs, Faith hoisted her up, making Buffy wrap her legs securely around Faith’s waist. They stared at each other for the longest time.

And then they smiled.