FF (December 2008) Eliza Lentzski - Chicago - My Kind of Town

Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Chicago: My Kind of Town



Post-Chosen, AU from comics. Buffy and Willow travel to Chicago to enlist Faith's help with the most recent prophecy. Only the former rogue Slayer can help the two friends, but how will Buffy react when she realizes Faith no longer needs her?

This is a Buffy&Faith fanfic story.

http://buffynfaith.net/fanfictions/index.php?act=vie&id=689

I have build myself this eBook from the fanfic site, I hope that you'll enjoy it.


Sample

Chapter 1: Windy City

POV Buffy

I look up at the flashing neon sign and grimace. “And we're sure this is where she works?” I glance over at Willow who definitely looks interested in our surroundings. I'm sure the neon naked lady sign has something to do with it. Honestly, it doesn't get any classier than this.

She nods once, but doesn't look over at me. Damn naked lady sign. “All the pay stubs for the past year say this is the place,” she reminds me.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, annoyed by the situation we're in. “Remind me again why we couldn't just call, or send an email...or a singing telegram?” I ask exasperated.

“Buffy, I know there's still all sorts of bad blood between you two, but she's only the one who can do this. And since the two of you haven't exactly been best friends since Sunnydale fell… We're better off having our little pow-wow face to face.”

“But why couldn't we send Giles, or Xander, or Andrew or…anyone but me?”

“You know it has to be you, Buff,” Willow tries to reason with me. “She can't say no to you.”

I shake my head. “It doesn't make sense, Wills. I mean…she doesn't feel that way for me. Not anymore - she couldn't.”

Willow looks a mixture of smug and amused. “Then how come every time we've needed her in the past she hasn't said no?”

“I don't know!” I throw my hands up, frustrated. “Duty? Sacred Calling? Does that ring a bell?”

“Keep telling yourself that, cutie,” she clucks. “Come on.” Willow grabs my hand and begins to drag me toward the front door. “And who knows? This might actually be fun. I haven't been to a strip club in a while.”

“You what??”


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Suggested listening: “She Lives in My Lap” - OutKast, Speakerboxx/The Love Below

Okay, so this is what a strip club looks like. It's, uh, darker than I thought it would be? I squint into the darkness, willing my eyes to adjust to the sudden loss of light. I guess it makes sense why these places don't have windows. Not that I want to see things better, but I just, um, don't want to break my neck falling down a hidden staircase or something.

The club's not that busy, but I guess it's pretty early. I mean, not that I'm an expert on peak strip club hours, but I'm guessing dinnertime isn't it. There's a single stage in the center of the room, and a girl is - oh my God, what is she doing to that pole?! I'm grateful for the darkness otherwise I'm sure Willow would completely tease me for how red my face is right now.

A sudden thought flashes into my head. What if she's not even working? What if today is her day off and I've just been traumatized for no good reason? Oh, this is so not turning out well. Wait, where the hell did Willow go? My gaze trails back down to the center stage and my eyes catch on a flash of red hair. Oh no. I so did not need to see that either. I'm seriously scarred for life.

Okay, Buffy. Pull it together. You can do this. If I were a bartender where would I be?

I don't need any special neon signs to tell me that the girl behind the bar is the woman I've been searching for. Even though she's facing away from me, ringing up a bill at the cash register, I still know it's her. Strong defined shoulders, long cascading brunette hair, narrow waist that curves dangerously, ending at one hell of an ass. Damn. That is oneshort leather skirt. I'd know that ass anywhere. Plus don't forget all those delicious tingles. I'm half surprised she hasn't turned around yet. But maybe…maybe she can't feel me like I still feel her.

I clear my throat, hoping to dislodge the frog that's taken residency in the passageway. “So what does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?”

I can see her shoulders immediately tense underneath her tight white tank top. Her voice comes out ragged, having lost none of its huskiness. “Normally I'd suggest a lap dance, but something tells me that ain't your style.”

She turns to face me, and I swear my pulse races just a little bit faster as I gaze at her face again after all this time. Her features show no emotion, but just one look into her chocolate-colored eyes tells me all I need to know. She's not happy to see me.

“Tell me why I shouldn't be kicking your ass right now,” she asks, her voice low and cold.

“We need you.” I pause, wetting my lips. “I need you.”

My choice of pronoun makes her face soften a little, but I still see the venom in her eyes.

“What kind of shenanigans have you gotten yourself into this time?” she asks, crossing her arms across her chest. My eyes inadvertently stray towards said chest, but I quickly catch myself and snap my eyes back up to her face. But apparently it wasn't stealthy enough since her lips are now forming a well-practiced smirk.

“There's this mystic gate. And we need to open it.” I allow myself a tired sigh, letting my guard down momentarily. It's been a long few months trying to figure out this mystical do-hickey. “Will's got some connections who are gabbing about a prophecy -”

“Another apocalypse?” Faith interrupts. She grabs a beer from underneath the bar and slides it in my direction. I give her a small smile of thanks and take a quick drink.

“No, nothing as exciting as that; just your standard prophecy. And it says that the Slayer is the only one who can open the portal. And I tried, but I can't. And some of the other Slayers tried, and they can't do it either.”

“Buffy.” Willow races up next to me, failing to acknowledge the girl on the other side of the bar. “Do you, uh, have any….” she trails off. I thrust a handful of singles into the palm of her hand, and her face lights up like a kid in a candy store. And as quickly as she appeared, she scampers back to her perch near the center stage.

“Looks like Red's no stranger to strip clubs,” Faith grunts nodding in the direction of the stage. No amount of money could ever get me to look in the direction of my long-time friend and further traumatize myself, so I stare at my beer bottle instead, which is quickly gathering condensation.

“So, uh, anyway,” I continue. I'd practiced this speech during our flight from Scotland, but now that I'm here, and she's here, the words are getting caught in my throat. “The Slayer line runs through you, not me, since, I - ah - died a few times. So we're thinking that you're the only one who can do this.”

“And why can't one of the newbies do it?” she asks, emptying an ashtray into a garbage can. “They're all Slayer-fied, aren't they?”

I shake my head. “It's all guesses at this point, but we think it's because they were never Called the old-fashioned way. Willow and the scythe unlocked their powers, not the PTBs.”

She's not saying anything, and I know I have to swallow my pride and grovel a little. As much as it hurts my Slayer-sized ego, she is our best hope at this point.

“Listen, I know that you've got your own life now and that it doesn't include us -”

“Buffy, your lives never involved me in the first place, so why should that be changing now?” She doesn't sound angry at all, just tired.

I'm not sure what to say, so I take another swig from the beer bottle, willing my brain to come up with some way to convince her to help. God, I hope this isn't enchanted beer, I suddenly worry. That's the last thing I need right now. And Willow's probably getting a lap dance and would completely miss the fact that I suddenly turned Neanderthal. Oh God, I need to get out of this place.

Faith's looking at me expectantly and I realize I should probably say something.

“Do I have to beg?” Okay, anything but that. This really is cursed beer.

“Not exactly what I had in mind, Peaches,” she winks. “But I do seem to have that affect on women.” Now she's giving me that patented dimpled grin. Damn that's some smile. Seriously. Someone needs to remind me why didn't I jump into bed with her the first chance I got.

She runs her fingers through her hair and looks up at an illuminated clock on the wall. “I'm not supposed to get off for a while, but I'll get one of the girls to take over for me.”

I offer another half-smile, trying to amend for years of wronged parties. We're doing really well so far. No one's punched anyone in the face or anything. “Do you have someplace more, um, window-y we could go to talk?” I ask.

She scrunches her face into a frown. “Yeah, I guess we could go to mine.”

Of course she has an apartment. Why the hell didn't we just track her down there!? I'm so going to kill Willow for bringing me here. Sneaky lesbian.

“Okay,” I nod, standing up from the barstool. “Lemme just drag Wills away from the strippers and we can go.”


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Lyrics to “Not Tonight” by Tegan and Sara

The three women exited the strip club, which had become more crowded as the night wore on. Since Buffy and Willow had taken a cab, Faith begrudgingly offered them a ride back to her walk-up so they could continue talking about this new prophecy.

The two Scotland-residents lingered behind a little, allowing the brunette to lead them toward her parked black Dodge Challenger. With its black tinted windows and chrome rims, it was a far cry from the humble vehicles the two had gotten used to seeing across the pond. Willow released a low whistle of appreciation. “Nice ride, Slayer.”

Faith smirked. “Sorry, Red. You're not my type,” she joked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Unlocking the doors, the raven-haired slayer slid into the leather interior, enjoying the smell and feel of the material against her skin. Buffy scrambled into the front seat despite her best friend's protests and immediately buckled her seatbelt.

Faith chuckled to herself at the blonde's antics. Despite having the weight of the world on her shoulders, there had always been a child-like quality to the elder Slayer. Faith reached across the blonde to put her large rimmed sunglasses into the glove box. She inwardly winced when the small Slayer bristled at the close contact. “Relax, Buffy,” she mumbled, clearly offended by the slender woman's knee-jerk reaction. “Not gonna gut ya or something.”

Checking her rear-view mirror to make sure the redhead was settled comfortably in the backseat, Faith cranked up the radio and put the car into gear before peeling out of the strip club's small parking lot and onto the crowded streets of Chicago.

The three women sat in silence as Faith expertly maneuvered her way down the busy parkway. Buffy stared out the window, looking at the lights that adorned the lakeshore. Willow sat in the backseat quietly picking at the material of her flow-y dress. The silence was annoying the brunette, so she began to hum along softly with the music.

Love, pull your sore ribs in/ I will pull your tangles out/ In the back of your car I feel like/ I have traveled nowhere….

“Oh!” the powerful Wicca squealed, recognizing the song. “Tegan and Sara!”

Faith looked in the rearview mirror, catching the witch's eye. “Yea, I've seen them a few times when they come to town. Pretty cool sound.”

Willow nodded in agreement. “Plus you can't go wrong with cute Canadian lesbian sisters. Or did I just over-share?”

Faith chuckled at the awkward woman's outburst. She got a good vibe from Willow tonight, like they'd finally moved beyond their high school years. But she glanced over at the elder slayer who continued to look out the window in silence. “You okay there, Buffy? Kinda quiet….”

The blonde looked at the driver briefly before returning her eyes back to the shoreline scene. “Mmm…long flight, I guess,” she offered as an excuse.

Faith shrugged, and went back to singing along with the radio, this time joined by her backseat passenger.

Everything in my body says not tonight/ Everything in my body says no/ What will bring me home/ What will make me stay…

After a few miles of driving, Faith turned the car down a tree lined one-way street, pausing slightly as the car wretched over a few speed humps before pulling over to the side and putting the car in park.

“Here we are,” she mumbled, grabbing her keys from the ignition. Exiting the car, she stretched her legs, not necessarily because she was stiff from the short commute, but more out of nervousness to again be in the presence of these two women.

She jammed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and led her unexpected visitors up a set of concrete stairs leading to the front of a modest three-story brick walk-up. It wasn't fancy or anything, but the modest apartment was certainly an improvement on the kind of digs she'd inhabited over the past two decades.

Fiddling nervously with the keys, she managed to unlock front door. Taking a deep breath, she entered the apartment.

“Take off your shoes, yeah?” the brunette grunted, pulling her black leather boots off her feet and discarding them on the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

Buffy raised her eyebrows when she noticed several pairs of high-heeled shoes neatly lined up on a throw rug. “That's incredibly un-Faith-like,” she mused to herself, admiring a pair of Jimmy Choos from afar.

Faith silently led the women down a long corridor, passing several closed doors. As they walked further into the apartment, the sounds of quiet jazz filled the air, joined with the scent of what smelled like fresh garlic and tomato.

“Dinner's almost ready,” came a soft feminine voice from somewhere in the apartment.

The three women continued walking toward the voice until they found its owner in the kitchen. A lithe blonde dressed in only a black lace bra and matching lace boi shorts stood in front of a stovetop, staring down into a giant pot of pasta sauce, with a glass of red wine in her slender hand.

“You're a little early tonight, babe. I just put some garlic bread in the -” She stopped when she looked up from the range and saw the group.

Both Willow and Buffy gasped when they saw the barely-clad girl's facial features. Long straight blonde hair, penetrating blue eyes, but the resemblance to the eldest Slayer was uncanny. It was almost like staring at the Buffy-bot.

“Okay, now this is awkward,” mumbled the redheaded witch, glancing nervously at her best friend trying to gauge her reaction.

A frown crossed the mystery blonde's delicate features and she dropped a tomato sauce-covered spoon angrily on the stovetop.

“I can't believe you brought her here to our apartment!” the woman shouted. “You promised me you were done with them, Faith.”

“Baby, I was, but you gotta understand,” Faith coaxed, back-peddling. “It's just that they need me for something. And I'm the only one…”

The woman crossed her arms across her chest, accentuating her cleavage, and narrowed her piercing blue eyes. “There you go with the selfless martyr act again. Faith, I can't believe this.”

“Baby…” Faith started again, her dark chocolate eyes pleading for forgiveness.

“And you've got a whole lotta nerve showing your face around here,” the woman steamed, point a finger at a startled Buffy. “After all you've put my Faith through.”

Before Buffy could halt her sharp tongue, the words slipped out. “Your Faith?!” she spat, her words dripping with venom. Willow lightly grabbed onto the blonde Slayer's forearm as if wordlessly pleading for her to stop.

The woman narrowed her eyes and quickly turned and stormed away deeper into the apartment, disappearing for the moment.

Faith sat down heavily on one of the barstools at the kitchen island and rested her head in her hands. “Fuck, that went well.” She sighed loudly before looking back up at the witch and the slayer who stood silent and wide-eyed.

“My, um, girlfriend,” the younger slayer