Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns these characters. This particular AU and the plot are mine.

X X X X X

When Kennedy actually asked me out, I was surprised. Not that she did it, but the way she did – almost tentatively.

For a woman who called her attempts to build a relationship with me a pursuit and said "Let the hunt begin" after I gave her the go-ahead to see if there was any potential between us, this was remarkable.

I've said before, from all I've seen of Jacqueline Olivierez Kennedy, she figure out what she wants and she gets it. Not in the way Faith used to; she's not brutal, just direct.

But she was moderating herself. For me. (Not completely; that comment about how my presence excited her, for instance. But I can appreciate a little bit of bluntness on occasion.) That she was willing to do that – that she was that interested in me, thought that highly of me, that she was willing to temper what she'd been for 19 years –

Well, it was flattering.

And it didn't hurt that she's a good-looking woman. Not my usual physical type, but I've learned over the years that I don't love someone for their outside, but for their inside. It was the spirit in Willow that attracted me to her – that fire, that spark, that she didn't even know she had.

Maybe I would find something similar in Kennedy. I was willing to give it a chance.

I hope this doesn't come across as calculating as it sounds. For all Kennedy's talk about hunting and pursuing, this was still a potential relationship, not a game of chess.

So we walked around Los Angeles for a while, trying to find a good place to eat. We talked along the way, about trivial things – she was excited about an author named Eric Garcia who had the most unusual private detective she'd ever run across, and we talked about music – and not so trivial things, like our lives and histories.

We'd grown close enough that I'd shared with her my basic family history, and she'd told me hers. Her family situation sounded more like Cordelia's than anything else – extremely rich parents who didn't understand her and who tried to solve problems by throwing money at them – but she said, "Before I came to Sunnydale? I'd've been the first person bitching about how lousy my family was growing up. But now that I've heard all of your stories – Buffy's Dad doesn't even show up for his ex's funeral; Xander's drunken abusers; Faith's family, who were even worse – and yours – my parents barely register on the radar. I mean, I can still talk to them, and they talk to me, and they care about me, even if things aren't perfect."

"And the money helps."

She grinned. "Oh yeah. Don't let anyone ever tell you it doesn't."

"So how rich is your family, exactly? You mentioned once that your home has wings." When she hesitated I said, "You know I'm not going to hold it against you. And I'm hardly after your money."

She said, "Yeah. But most Slayers don't come from backgrounds like mine. You've got middle-classers like Vi and Buffy, or lower-classers – no insult intended here, I'm just talking their financial status – like Rona and Faith. Me? My family's yearly income is somewhere in the 25 million dollar range, and we probably have around a billion in total assets."

"Wow."

She looked worried. "Does this change anything?"

I said, "Of course not. But you're paying for the date."

She laughed and said, "I asked you out in the first place. That was a given."

"It says a lot about you that you'd still want to be a Slayer even with all that."

She shrugged and said, "That's who I am, though. I'm not going to back out just because I'm rich. I've been training to do this ever since I was eight years old."

"You could have asked your father –"

Shaking her head, Kennedy said. "Could have. Didn't want to." And even though I wasn't reading her aura, I could tell that she was being completely honest with me. It never would have occurred to Kennedy to back out.

Which did say a lot about her. And I liked what it said.

Then we talked a bit more about my family.

"And then there's the time my family came to Sunnydale to drag me back home," I said. "Did, did I ever tell you about that one?"

"Only about the family legend that you were demons, and that you didn't go back with them," she said. "What happened?"

"It's not me at my best," I warned. And then I told the entire story. She laughed when Spike hit me, then caught herself and said, a bit worriedly, "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. It is funny. A lot funnier now almost three years later, but it's funny."

"There's something to be said for the direct approach," she said, and grabbed my hand.

I didn't let it go. Maybe there was something to be said for the direct approach. She held it for a few seconds, squeezed it tightly, and tried to interlock her fingers with mine.

I pulled free. "No," I said, not angrily. "That, that's intimate. We're not at that level yet." Then I said, "Don't worry. You couldn't have known." I grabbed her hand, then, and held it for a few more seconds before I let it go.

Then I finished up the story. When I was done, she said, "Damn. That's you at your worst? I've been a goody-good my whole damn life and I've done worse than that."

"I felt like I betrayed them." I still did, a little.

She laughed. "Yeah. You betrayed them enough that they joined together as one and told your 'blood kin' to go take a flying leap. They forgave you immediately. Don't worry about it." She looked up. "How's this place?"

It was a seafood restaurant – Ocean Pride. We looked over the outside menu – midrange prices. Not the kind of place where ten dollars buys you two meals, but not the kind where it gets you laughed at either.

Kennedy said, "Um, your shrimp allergy – can you be at the same table with them? Because I love shrimp but I'm not going to eat them if it might kill you."

"Only when taken internally," I said. "Don't worry."

But when it came time to order she got the scallops. Double order, with fries and an appetizer of fried clams. Slayers and their appetites.

I enjoyed my grilled salmon, and we kept talking.

"So," she said after gulping down a scallop, "When did you know?"

"When did I know what?" I asked. There were two legitimate alternatives here, after all.

"When did you find out that you were a lesbian?"

"Always," I said. "I mean, I've only ever been attracted to women. I had to keep it quiet through high school – even go on a couple of dates with boys so my Dad wouldn't find out. My, my mom knew, but she knew better than to tell anyone else."

"Yeah, you said it was your Mom who got you started on this witchy stuff, right?" I nodded. "Gutsy of her."

"It was her act of rebellion," I said. "While she wasn't a MacLay by birth – so, so they couldn't keep her under control with threats of her being a demon – they always told her that if she didn't do what they said they'd hurt me." And then I said, fiercely, "And now I still have everything she taught me and I never have to see them again."

"Want me to go beat the crap out of them for you?" she asked protectively.

"No," I said. "That part of my life is long over." Then I grinned and added. "But I appreciate the offer. How about you?"

"More or less the same thing," she said. "Except minus the family of psychopaths. My parents all know. My mom accepts it but prays for me -- Catholic -- and my Dad wants me to have kids someday, but as long as I don't horribly embarrass him somehow he doesn't really care as long as I'm happy."

"Catholic?"

She laughed. "I suppose I am, technically," she said. "But very very lapsed. I'm definitely still a Christian of some sort, but I'm not interested really in belonging to any organized religion that says I can't marry or adopt or be who I am." She speared another scallop with her fork, gulped it down, and said, "Now you, I know. You're a pagan."

"I prefer 'Wiccan,' but yeah, pretty much, that's it. My family, as you may have guessed --"

"Fundamentalist?"

"To the extreme. Of course, they're hypocrites about it. In the case of the MacLays, it's just another way to keep the women in line. They're no more Christians than they are Vulcans."

"I'm thinking you would've preferred Vulcans."

"I would've preferred Klingons," I said. Then I looked at her. "One of the things I never would've pegged you for is a Star Trek fan."

"Well, don't go spreading it around," she said. "I gotta keep my street cred. Once geeks find out that hot chicks like their favorite show they're all over you." That's Kennedy: Modesty isn't in her vocabulary. Of course, she's not exactly lying. "I'm betting you've had the same problem."

I blushed again. That's twice in one day she's made me blush. I resist the temptation to check her aura and say, "I very rarely think of myself as hot."

"Check the mirror a bit more often," she said. "Anyway, I found out about this geek factor at the one Star Trek Convention I went to. I wanted to see if I could talk to one of the actresses, or at least get her to sign something for me."

"Crush?"

"Big-time," she said.

"Jeri Ryan?"

She almost looked offended. "Barbie of Borg? Please! No, actually, Gates McFadden." I must have looked surprised, because she said, "I've always liked older women." She finished off her last French fry and looked at my vegetables. "Can I have some broccoli?"

"Help yourself," I said. "And watch it, you. I'm not that much older than you are."

"Three and a half years," she said. "Older enough."

Then, finally done, she called for the server and we paid and left.

As we walked back to the Hyperion, we continued the conversation.

"Anyway," I said. "I wouldn't have thought you much of a fan of most science fiction or, or fantasy, given the way you feel about magick --"

"Am I ever going to live down that 'fairy tale crap' line?"

"Never," I said wickedly. "I will hold it against you until the end of time -- Jackie O."

"This sucks," she said. "I gotta get some good blackmail material on you."

Right then we heard a scream from an alley, looked at each other, and ran over.

A classic vampire attack -- two vampires, one male, one female -- and one victim, who was screaming, so she was still alive. Kennedy yanked out a stake. I wouldn't be surprised if she took it to bed with her.

I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Anyway, that would hurt.

There was something different about the way Kennedy approached a fight: she didn't bother bantering with her targets. She bodyslammed the female vampire out of the way before anyone even noticed she was there. Then, ripping the male away from the victim's neck, she staked him in one smooth motion.

The female vampire had gotten up by this time. She hissed one word, "Slayer," and turned to run.

Well, she tried to, anyway.

Kennedy looked at me questioningly when the vampire froze in her tracks; I gestured, "go ahead," and she walked up and staked it.

Then we bent down to look at the victim. The vampires hadn't even broken skin yet. Thank the Goddess. We walked the woman back to the Hyperion and made sure she had a ride home. She accepted our explanation that the two people were muggers who'd run off when we'd approached.

They always seem to.

Then we walked upstairs.

"I could have caught her," Kennedy said.

"I'm sure you could have," I said. "I just wanted to make it easier." I smiled. "It wasn't any kind of comment on your ability. I know you're good."

"Damn right," she said. "Anyway, before the vamps interrupted us, I was saying how I had to get some good blackmail material on you. So spill."

I laughed. "Uh-uh. Gotta save something for the second date."

She looked at me with surprise and delight. "There's going to be a second date?"

"Like you had any doubt."

"Actually," she said. "I did."

"Well," I said, and leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "Don't." Then I said, "Goodnight," and went inside.

I'd had fun.

For a first date, that's a pretty good start.