A/N: The two community centers that I've mentioned here are totally fictional and were named by me looking around my room at 1. Hawthorne DVD case (Christina) 2. A Twilight novel (Meyer), 3. My Abby Cadabby Doll (yes, I have one. Don't judge me) and 4. My high school yearbook (North PENN High). Enjoy! (:

Chapter 21: Outreach

Flashback (Nine years ago) 2003, Albany, New York, Saturday

In dark Ray Ban wayfarer sunglasses, blue jeans and a black cargo jacket, a twenty-one-year-old Faith stood outside of the Christina Meyer Community Center. Her hands trembled violently as she struggled to pull her wavy hair up into a bun, undoubtedly from her alcohol withdraw She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, only to be bombared with the image of Kennedy walking out of the door.

That had been two weeks ago. Faith had called constantly and left dozens of voicemails and text messages, but the was indication was clear; Kennedy wanted nothing more to do with her. Faith was determined to pull herself up by her boot straps and get her life together.

The previous night, Faith had suffered a mental breakdown, destroying her entire apartment. She threw things, ripped things, wrote on the walls and and was ultimately stopped by Spike, who had come to check on her.

He found her breathing heavily about to throw the last unshattered item in her home; an irreplaceable, handcrafted, Egyptian lamp that had belonged to her mother. He took it out of her hands, sat her down on the sofa and held her as her heart-wrenching sobs nearly broke every fragile bone in her body.

Now, here she was, getting help for herself. Faith stepped slowly up the concrete steps as if she were afraid that the next one cave in from the weight she was carrying on her shoulders. When she made it to the faded blue doors, she reached out and grabbed the handle, pulling it open.

Faith walked into the building, looking around. She heard kids playing basketball to her left and a music class to her right. Walking straight, Faith passed by water fountains, trophy cases and community team banners. It almost reminded her of her old high school. She took off her sunglasses to get a better look at her surroundings. That's when she heard it.

"Hi, my name is Andrew and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Andrew." Came a chorus of voices. Faith turned towards the voices. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, preparing herself for her next life journey: sobering up.

Present day, 2012, Los Angeles, Saturday

Faith took off her dark Ray Ban sunglasses and looked up at the Abby Penn Community Center.

"You ready?" Buffy asked.

"Nervous." Faith admitted.

"Don't be. I'll be there to hold your hand the whole time."

"Thanks, B."

Together, the couple walked up the stairs and to the room that Faith was assigned. When she opened the door, eight kids all turned to look towards her, expectantly. She walked to the front and sat ontop of the desk. Buffy sat on a stool next to her.

"Hey, guys. I'm Faith. And this is my friend, Buffy." Faith started to breathe a litle easier. "I'm your instructor for the next two hours."

It had been Buffy's idea to teach an art class for underprivileged teenagers between the ages of fourteen and eighteen in the city. She believed that Faith could really do some good by helping the kids perfect their art and then sponsoring them in local art competitions. Faith thought the idea was perfect, not only to give back but to help Buffy get her mind off of her cheating husband.

"No way is her name really Buffy." A kid in the front said.

"You wanna see my driver's license?" Buffy asked, smiling.

"Yeah."

Buffy rifled through her bag for a few moments before standing up and handing the kid her license.

"Cool." He replied before handing it back to her.

"What's your name, wise guy?" Faith asked.

"Hollister."

"Wait, you're named after a clothing company and you're ragging on my name?" Buffy joked.

Hollister smiled. His smooth, brown skin gave way to dimples deeper than Faith's.

"Okay, Hollister, here, has just given me an idea. Now," Faith said, hopping off the desk, "I could just go around and ask everybody their name but, what would be the fun in that? So let's play the name game."

Faith gathered the eight kids, herself and Buffy and they all sat in a circle. When it was their turn, each person had to name all of the people ahead of him- or herself along with the adjective that they'd picked for themselves. Ten minutes later, it was Faith's turn.

"Ah. Lemme see if I can do this." Faith said, rubbing her hands together. "So, we have happy Harlow, serious Samantha, hot Hollister, artistic Audrey, creative Connor, busy Brian, cheeky Chelsea, keen Kendra, brainy Buffy and I, am fun Faith."

"Sweet! You've got a really good memory." Harlow complimented.

"Thanks." Faith said. "Have any of you taken art classes before?"

Eight hands raised in the air.

"Cool. Now, forget about all the stuff they've taught you in those classes and feel free to draw, scuplt, paint, sketch, doodle and airbrush your own way. You don't need someone else's idea of art to bring out whatever is inside of you." Faith told them. "Do you guys do it all? Or are some of you better at painting than sculpting?"

"I'm a painter." Samantha chimed in.

"Me too." Hollister agreed.

"Same." Came Connor's voice.

"I sculpt mostly. And I can sketch a little. Just enough to get an idea for what I want to sculpt." Faith had to strain to hear Chelsea's small, angelic voice.

"Kendra and I took the same Alternative Art class at Los Angeles High School. We can airbrush like nobody's business." Brian bragged, excitedly.

"What about you Audrey?" Faith asked.

"I'm into sketch. I wanna work with the police department one day as a sketch artist. Maybe help them catch some bad guys with my art."

"That sounds amazing. Don't give up on that." Buffy encouraged. "Harlow, what do you do?"

"Everything. I like to keep my options open." Harlow responded.

"My kind of girl." Faith chuckled.

"I thought I was your kind of girl?" Buffy muttered. Faith shot her a devious grin, giving Buffy a flash of her favorite dimples.

"Are you two together?" Hollister questioned. "I mean, like, together together."

Faith looked at Buffy for an answer. Buffy opened her mouth to speak but closed it. She looked at Hollister and smiled. "Yeah. We are."

Faith's heart felt lighter than it did the night Buffy pronounced her love for the brunette.

Happy with that answer, Hollister nodded his head. "That's what's up."

"Yeah?" Faith asked.

"Yeah." He replied. Nods of agreement followed from the rest of the group.

"Okay. Okay. Enough about us. I wanna know more about you guys. Let's see what you guys got." Buffy said. She stood up and headed to her art station. "Show me some masterpieces."

The kids jumped to their feet and scrambled to find a spot in the room where they felt the most comfortable. Before long, the room was filled with paint and airbrush fumes, wax sticks and pencil sharpener shavings. In between painting her own picture, Faith walked around the classroom, checking out everyone's work. With a little assistance from Buffy, Faith helped Samantha go with fluidity of her brush strokes and helped many of the others perfect their work as well. She was happy that Buffy had talked her into starting up the art classes.

"I think Audrey really has what it takes to work on police sketches. I mean, did you see the portrait she did of herself? And she wasn't even looking in the mirror!" Faith gushed.

For the past hour she had been lying on the couch, her head on Buffy's lap, talking about the students. Buffy, content with just listening, simply nodded her head and gave words of acknowledgement every now and then. She stroked Faith's hair and let her talk until she was blue in the face.

"You know what I think?" Faith asked, sitting up.

"What's that, babe?"

"I think we should start a foundation for those kids. You know, have your gallery start a foundation for underpriveleged artists. I'll obviously be the money behind the operation but I want you to be the face of it."

"Why me?"

"Hello?" Faith said, pointing to herself. "Secret identity."

"Sorry, I forgot I was dating Batman." Buffy joked.

"Exactly."

"I think it's a great idea, Faith."

"Me too. That's why I came up with it." Faith blew her breath on her nails and wiped them on her shirt. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Alright, Bruce Wayne. Go take off your batsuit so we can get in a nice, hot bubble bath."

Faith grinned, proudly, and ran along to do what she was told.

Up Next: Buffy confronts Lindsey.