Title: The Nightstalkers

Rating: R

Story: Action\Adventure

Summary: When one of the Scoobies is turned, the world goes to hell.

Feedback: In lieu of a Faithbot yeah.

E-Mail: KeithColl@gmail.com

Disclaimer: If I own the characters, why have Faith, Cordelia, and Kennedy escaped? Woe is me.

The West Coast ‘01

The sultry beauty sat beside him yawned, stretched, and scratched her head, full locks bouncing at the movement. "How long now?"

He sighed in exasperation. Despite his charge’s many rough edges and trust issues he’d been surprised not to mention a little charmed by her many good qualities. Patience was however not one of them. "Young lady," he huffed, "if I have told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times," he ignored the teen’s theatrical rolling of her ebony eyes, "his spies are everywhere, we have to be circumspect. Caution should be your by-word."

"Yeah" the brunette shook her head and snorted, expressive eyes filling with an all too familiar scorn. "Boredom should be yours."

The third member of their group snorted from his position on the back seat, deep bass voice booming out. "Girl’s got you worked out English."

"K," his charge shot the back seat passenger an amused wink. He suspected the two had been ‘intimate’ but for reasons of propriety and jealousy didn’t dwell on such thoughts. "So how about you," suddenly the brunette was shoving her head through the open window to yell obscenities at a passing biker gang heading in the opposite direction before pulling her head back in. The teen smirked at his chagrined expression. "Damn, that was fun, ain’t done that since you limey bores got your hands on my cute little butt in ’96."

Good lord, he blanched as he did a mental calculation. The child had been hanging out with bikers at the age of fourteen? That answered so many questions about her behaviour that he’d shied away from asking.

"Damn," the raven-haired beauty shook her head, an almost wistful expression on her face. "Those guys knew how to P-A-R-T-Y!!!!!!!!" The free-spirited teen’s expression sobered. "Anyhow, I was gonna ask. Seeing as you’re borin’ the shit out of us with this drive, how about ya fill us in with what we’re facin’?"

"As you wish," he gritted his teeth, bile raising in his throat at the bitter memory that was for a number of reasons his organisation’s most shameful period. "In the summer of ’96, Miss. Summers’ previous Watcher, a rather fine gentleman by the name of Merrick, was slain. As a result, Rupert Giles was assigned to be Miss. Summers’ Watcher." He chose to ignore his charge’s faked yawn. "At first, Mr. Giles and Miss Summers formed an effective if unorthodox partnership. However Miss Summers eventually formed a wholly inappropriate relationship with an ensoulled vampire by the name of Angel."

"Boning a corpse," his charge’s delightful nose wrinkled in disgust. "Fuck, even I wouldn’t do that!"

"Angel, or Angelus as his unsoulled persona was known, was one of the most feared and warped vampires in existence," he ignored the interruption. "For a while though he fought at the Slayer’s side-."

"Gee I wonder why?" his charge scoffed.

"Then something happened to turn Angel to Angelus."

"What?" this came from the third member of the team.

He shrugged, embarrassed by his lack of knowledge. "We don’t know. At the time the Council was still receiving reports from Mr. Giles. However they were vague on certain points." He shrugged again. "I’m sure the Council would have followed them up at some point. However events overtook them. In the spring of ’98, Angelus uncovered a demon of awesome power, Acathla the World Ender."

"Nice," muttered his beautiful companion.

"But the vampire was unable to decipher the rising ritual and so he kidnapped and turned Mr. Giles for the information." He sighed. "That was a grave miscalculation on par with Neville Chamberlain’s-.."

"Who?" queried the confused-looking brunette.

American teens. "Never mind," he shook his head. "Suffice to say when he rose, Mr. Giles or ‘Ripper’ as he chose to be called took over Angelus’ band of cut-throats and -."

"Whoa cowboy," the curvy brunette interrupted, a quizzical in her gypsy brown orbs. "Pull up them horses. Ripper just rose up and took over Angelus’ operation? If Angelus was such a bad ass how did he manage it?"

He hid a proud smile. His charge was many things, but despite her lack of education she certainly wasn’t stupid. "To be honest no-one knows how he managed it." His charge groaned, her patience at his lack of knowledge nearing its end. But I have a theory. Mr. Giles was a man of many skills – an expert in a number of medieval weapons, an archaeologist and anthropologist who’d had a number of papers published, and one of the world’s finest demonologists and one of its leading Slayer historians. In addition," he smiled wanly, "Mr. Giles had a rather colourful youth and was an accomplished black arts mage and roughhouser of some note. All these many and varied talents would have made him a juicy target for all the demons wishing to re-enter the world, and a result he’d be selected by a demon of quite incredible power."

"Sweet," the teen beside him muttered.

"That’s one word for it." His wry smile disappeared instantly disappeared. "At this point things get somewhat hazy-."

"’Cause they were so clear before," the rear seat passenger scoffed.

"But what is clear that Giles immediately turned Angelus’ group’s aim from world-ending to world-domination. He immediately struck out at Miss Summers and her friends-."

"Wait!" the youngster beside him sounded out-raged and more than a little jealous. "This vampire-humper had friends?"

"That was the unorthodox aspect of the Giles\Summers relationship I alluded to earlier." He paused. "Apparently Summers’ friends were butchered. Then Ripper took over the running of Sunnydale. In July ’98, the Council sent in Miss Dana Sheridan. She was quickly dealt with. The Council sent Miss Kennedy Lucas in October of the same year with the same result. In March of ’99, a US. Special forces unit led by a Major Riley Finn was massacred when they attacked Ripper’s forces." He stopped, a dead weight settling on his chest. "In August ’99, Ripper used his knowledge of the Council and its headquarters to have one of his minions lead an attack on the Council base, massacring over two dozen Watchers, ten potentials, and thirty ancillary staff, and burning the building to the ground." He admitted in his darker moments to having mixed thoughts about the Council’s demise. While he had had lost the few people he considered his friends in the massacre, he’d also been saved from having to apply the Cruciatmen to his charge. Not only was he saved from being part of a ritual that he had grave misgivings about, he felt sure that he would not survive it if his charge did.

"This is whack." Eyes filling with alarm, the brunette beauty shook her head. "There is no way-."

"My dear," he sighed. "It is your sworn duty-."

"Fuck sworn duty!" Their car shook to the teen’s heartfelt scream. "Council is gone, Jr. Watcher!"

"But vampires aren’t," he riposted, fighting for calm in the face of the young woman’s mounting panic-fuelled rage. Only one person could dampen her rage and she was dead.

"No way!" The brunette’s lustrous locks danced as she shook her head. "Pull this shit-heap over or I’m leaping out now!" He stared incredulously at his charge. "You know I’ll do it."

"Fine." He sighed. The moment the car pulled to a halt on the dusty road, the brunette was out and running.

"White folks and their drama."

He shot the passenger a venomous glare. "Stay here!" he snapped before leaping out of the car and chasing after the runaway.

He had no chance of getting even close to his quarry but fortunately the girl spun around to face him, eyes blazing. "Three Slayers! The fucker’s taken down three Slayers, built an army, wiped out the Council and a Special Forces unit! How am I supposed to stop him?"

He stared at the frightened teen, unsure as how to answer a question he’d asked a thousand times since deciding they had to strike at Ripper. "You’re different from all three Slayers, Miss Summers had previously proven unable to kill a comrade turned vampire. Miss Sheridan and Lucas were novices, hastily sent into battle. You are a seasoned warrior with a number of impressive kills to your credit. Kaktosis in February ‘99. Drago in New York in May ’99. Blitz in Chicago in September ’99. Peach in Georgia in November ’99. Dark Death in Texas in March ’00. Strong Arm in Montana in ‘May ’00. Fast Draw in Arizona in August ’00. Cutter in Alabama in January ’01. Just last month you slayed Jay-don in Nevada." He smiled reassuringly. "No Slayer in hundreds of years has killed so many notable vampires."

"Screw this." The brunette licked her cherry-red lips before stepping towards him, full hips swinging enticingly. "Two and a half years wasted Slaying is enough. Time for some fun now." The young yet old in the ways of seduction woman slowly trailed her fingers down his chest. "You’re loaded, how about you buy two tickets and me and you fly to the Bahamas?" He felt his cheeks flame as the girl’s hand moved southwards. "Just think about it," she husked, her voice and gaze combining to become hypnotic. "The day, me in a string bikini lying on the beach beside you, every guy hating you for being with me. And at night," the Slayer ground herself against him as she whispered in his ear, hot breath tickling his neck, "man the nights. I’d let you do anything you wanted to this body. Things those uppity English gals won’t even speak about, much less do. Hell, I’d enjoy it."

It was, he inwardly admitted, a more than tempting offer. Raven tresses bounced down onto the girl’s shoulders and framed her cupid-shaped face. Her ebony eyes were luminous and lips full and cherry-red. Her barely-there sleeveless black midriff top displayed several inches of taut, gym-toned belly while only just containing her full, gravity-defying bosom. The leather pants she also wore stuck to her like a second skin, making sure no observer was in any doubt to the pertness of her butt or the lithe muscularity of her legs.

Tempting except he knew desperation and fear fuelled the offer rather than love or even lust. He was not much of a man, as his dearly departed father hand never tired of telling him, but he had his principles. "No." It was an effort but he managed to pull away from the teen. "No." He shook his head. "I’m not going anywhere and neither are you." The Slayer’s eyes hardened to obsidian. "You made an oath to Miss Walters."

"Bel." The Slayer shuddered. But then finding your Watcher and the nearest thing you’d ever had to a mother defiled and tortured to death was always going to have an effect.

"As you held her head you swore," he hated to do this, but he had little choice. "You swore to be the best Slayer you could for her, to never stop hunting vampires."

The brunette fell to her knees, tears rolling down her finely-sculpted cheeks. "I’m so tired of fighting alone!"

Surprised to see the girl’s mask of bravado slip, he was momentarily lost for words. Finally he found his tongue. "You have me."

"You?" Looking up, the girl shot him a scornful look. "You’re not even a Watcher! You’re just Bel’s research assistant!"

He flinched at the reminder of his previous position before Ms. Walters’ tragic demise. "Nevertheless," taking the Slayer by her elbows, he pulled her to her feet, "I’ll be with you for as long as you need me."

Ripper beamed as the punk music of his youth blared out around him at ear-splitting levels. His beam widened as he grabbed hold of the chest-high railing and leaned over the walkway to survey his domain.

The Bronze had once been Sunnydale’s premier, although to be fair also only, nightclub. Now it was the home of him and his fellow creatures of the night.

No-body was dancing to the music. Well except one sobbing cheerleader a trio of vampires were pushing from one another across a floor space covered with nails and broken glass, the blood from the unfortunate girl’s bare feet slicking the ground. Most of his other followers were drinking, either alcohol or from one of the human cattle they’d selected from the pens.

One such human was spread across a table just beneath him, a trio of female vampires hungrily feeding on the weakly struggling boy. Ripper took a deep sniff, filling his nostrils with the stench of all the blood and pain, a narcotic surpassing any he’d taken in the 70s. Undead? He chuckled; he’d never been so alive.

"Sire."

"Yes Angelus?" Ripper took a perverse delight in turning to face the formerly handsome vampire who now served as his second-in-command. The undead Irishman’s left eye was marred by a vertical scar running through it and his right cheek permanently singed through a combination of dark magic and flung holy water, both products of the demon’s attempt to overthrow him. The scars not only served as a permanent reminder to both Angelus and the other minions about the peril of challenging him but also had turned Darla’s childe into an even more vicious vampire. So he won all round.

The older demon glanced at the naked woman knelt at his feet, her arms wrapped around his knee and her vacant eyes staring up at him with puppy-like adoration, before looking at him. "The trap is set, master."

"Excellent," he nodded. "Make sure that some of the resistance escape."

His fellow demon blanched. "Sir?"

Giles idly stroked the knelt woman’s mousey brown hair as he smiled at the vampire. "I enjoy watching those little rats struggle. They’re so valiant, so entertaining."

Angelus stared at him for a second before nodding. "I’ll relay your orders."

"See that you do." He watched the Irish vampire stride out before yanking back the head of the slave pawing at him. "My room Joy-Joy?" He smiled at the insane demon’s gleeful simper. His insane childe had been turned at a far more advanced age than most of the turned females. Indeed she was more than twice the age of the majority. And yet despite her facial lines and less firm body she was his favourite.

Because she was the first, the only, childe he’d made.

It had started as any good love story did, with a girl. His childe’s daughter in fact. He could gave taken the teen a dozen times in the month he’d stalked her, but the true prize, the one he really wanted was the mother and so he’d waited until they were together before attacking.

Just one look of his face had been enough to shock the two women into immobility, long enough for his minions to strike. Once both were secured, he set to work breaking the mother.

By first destroying the daughter.

It had been simple really. First he secured the two women in adjourning cells, dirty dank hovels with no light and precious little food or water for their inhabitants. During the day he would have the daughter tortured, her threats, curses, and eventual pleas all seeping through the walls to the mother to hear. And then each night he would present the mother with a severed body part and a Polaroid of her daughter’s beaten body, chronicling the girl’s descent into death.

After eighteen nights the girl had died. Finally it was her mother’s turn. He’d given her over to six of his minions with the order no permanent physical damage be done. After 48 hours he’d ordered them to desist and turned the babbling woman who’d remained.

And now Mrs. Joyce Summers was his willing, desperate to please slave. And his final revenge on the Watcher he’d once been and the Slayer he’d once guided.

* * *

"You’re sure this is a good idea?"

"Shut up Jonathan," Xander hissed as he looked around. His heart tightened as he thought about how quickly things had gone south.

It had started the night Buff had slept with Deadboy, Xander shook his head. From that point on the blonde had been operating on auto-pilot, easy prey for Angelus and his mind games.

And then the crazy bastard had turned Giles and things had gotten really bad.

The first thing the former Watcher had done was organise the town’s warring vampire gangs into one cohesive force. Then he’d turned his attention to his former companions.

First to go had been Buff and Mrs. S. He’d only heard dark rumours of what had happened to them.

Unfortunately he knew all too well what had happened to Will. Snatched off the street in September ’98, he’d received body parts in the post for a month together with letters detailing just what was happening to her. The process of reading them had added lines to his face and prematurely grey streaked his hair.

Maddened by grief, Oz had ignored their warnings and started to hunt Giles alone, an uneven contest that could and did only end one way. The werewolf had been caught, held until a full moon and thrown in with a pack of larger werewolves who tore him to pieces.

And that just left him, and god help him, Cordy to run what resistance there was. A new ‘Scooby’ gang had been dubbed ‘The Nightstalkers’ by uber-geek Jonathan Levinson in tribute to Blade’s group of fictional vampire-fighters. Together they fought, and mostly lost, against Ripper and his forces.

And that was why they were outside The Fish Tank, Sunnydale’s foremost and seediest portside bar. Despite or perhaps because of the city’s ever more dangerous environment, the bar appeared to be doing brisk business. His ears pounded and the bar’s dusty floor trembled to the death metal blasting out of the brightly flashing jukebox. Patrons jostled at the bar while competing at coarsely yelling orders at the over-worked bar staff. Xander’s forehead wrinkled as his brain was assaulted by the half a dozen illegal narcotics pungently hovering in the dimly-lit bar’s air.

Taking his last breath of moderately clean air, he stepped over the bar’s threshold, his trusty companion beside him. Both of them were dressed in what Jonathan had dubbed as ‘Matrix Coats’, ankle-length leather overcoats ideal for concealing an armoury of weapons. And weapons were just what they needed in here.

Still, Xander comforted himself with a discreet glance around; several of his people were in place in the bar. Larry and, god help him and the world, Harmony were at the table by the front door, Owen and Scott were in the crowd fighting for attention at the bar, and Amy and Percy were at a table by the rickety back door. The rest of his team were hidden outside, ready to warn him if anything went wrong.

And of course there was Jonathan. Xander glanced at the diminutive youth by his side. Given his past ‘nerdoom’, Jonathan had surprised him with both his ingenuity and courage. Without him, he doubted there’d be a resistance. Although the smaller youth’s hero worship could be grating at times.

Like all of them.

Xander allowed himself a wry smile as he saw his contact, a skinny Londoner even shorter than Jonathan by the name of Alf. Sitting down, he nodded towards the wispy-haired, Hitler-moustached Cockney. "What have you got for us?"

The Cockney smirked. "Question is what have you got for me?" Xander silently reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of crumpled twenties, and pushed it across the table. The informant quickly scooped and pocketed them. "Ain’t got any news about the vamps." Xander glared and started to rise, intent on getting his money back. "Relax," Alf raised a palm in supplication. "I ain’t ripping you off kid, I ain’t that stupid." The cockney gurgled a chuckle and took a sip of his foamy beer.

"What then?" Xander snapped impatiently after a nervous glance around the bar.

Alf flashed him a grin filled with yellow-stained teeth. "The Slayer."

Xander’s irritation fled to be replaced by an almost childlike eagerness. He was sure if there was a way out of this mess it had to be through the Slayer, all they had been able to manage was a holding action. "Really, do tell?"

"Vamps are scared of her, that’s for sure," Alf rubbed a stubbly cheek. "The demons call her ‘Beautiful Death’, ‘Warrior Bitch’, and a whole host of other less wholesome names." Alf paused. "They say she’s killed close to ten Masters, more than any Slayer in centuries."

"We already know all this," Jonathan said a second before he did. "We’re not paying you for old news."

Alf grinned, clearly amused by Jonathan’s outburst. "Yeah, but what you didn’t know is she’s headin’ here." Alf paused, face growing grim. "But there’s just one problem."

"What?" Xander leaned across the table, blood racing at the thought of the Slayer returning here but frightened that something or someone was going to ambush her before she got here.

The man’s eyes flickered yellow in the half-light. "You won’t be here to see her."

Time froze for a second. Then Jonathan let out a shocked half-shout, half-squeal. "Vampire!"

Xander leapt up. Snatching a hold of the table, he tipped it over just as the demon left his feet and jumped at them. The table slammed into the demon’s face, spinning it off-course and dumping it to the ground. The cockney vampire snarled at him a split-second before he crashed a boot into its face.

Bone crunched under his attack. Before the stunned demon had chance to react, Xander dropped into a crouch beside it and slammed a stake through its back and into its chest. "Damn," Xander cursed as he looked around to see other vampires leaping into action, "another trap!"

He was getting real pissed with Giles, make that Ripper, playing cat and mouse with them. Rising, he sidestepped a lunging vampire and drove his knee into its crotch, doubling it up, making it easy target for a stake to the back.

A supernaturally powerful hand took hold of his collar and flung him into the air. "Ahhhh!" Xander bellowed as he crashed into the bar counter, wood splintering and back erupting in pain. Forcing himself upright, he snatched a hold of a splinter and swung at the demon.

"Oh please," the vampire contemptuously slapped away his attack before crashing a backhand into his jaw.

Blood flew out of his mouth as he was lifted from his feet and flung over the counter. Xander grunted as he landed, managing to land on his shoulder rather than his head. He was only half-way to his feet when the demon grabbed him by his shirt and flung him into the drinks cabinet. Glass cascaded on top of him as he slumped to the ground.

"Hey," he heard the front door crash open and a sexily husky voice speak, "this a private party or can anyone join in?"

* * *

Faith yawned as their car travelled through Sunnydale. She hated to admit it, but she’d been terrified at the thought of arriving in Sunnydale, imagining blood-soaked streets, spread-eagled torture victims nailed to walls, severed heads on fence posts, and fuck knows what else. What she’d instead found was a boring as hell town similar to a thousand small towns she’d visited in the last few years.

Her interest flickered into life at a similar sight. "Hey! A bar!" Faith bellowed. "Pull over! I wanna party!"

The Englishman driving the car shot her a familiarly irritated glance. "My dear, we are here on business, not to indulge your carnal desires."

Indulge your carnal desires. Jesus, Faith shook her head, the English had ways of making even sex sound boring. It was Faith’s turn to shoot her companion an irritated look. If not for her natural sneakiness, she’d not have got laid in like two years.

If she hadn’t made a promise to Bel, her heart caught at the thought of the severe-featured woman with the heart of gold who’d adopted and loved her like no-one had ever done, she’d have kicked Book-Boy to the kerb months ago. With her looks and talents, she could be having some serious fun.

But obligation and the memory of the only mom she’d ever had held her in place as securely as a bear caught in a steel trap.

"Whoa!" her eyes narrowed as a body crashed out of the bar’s window and then exploded into dust. "Still wanna drive past?"

Book-boy didn’t favour her with an answer or even a look. Instead the car tires screeched as the Brit spun the car around and headed back to the club, pulling to a halt on the kerb outside. "You two take the window, I’ll go in through the door."

* * *

"Owww!" Jonathan gasped as he rolled away from his attacker’s kicks and onto some broken glass from the window. Rolling back towards the vampire, he kicked out, his foot crashing into the demon’s inner left knee.

The demon stumbled forwards and down onto one knee. Jonathan hurriedly pushed himself up with one hand and used the other to thrust his stake into the demon’s chest. Jonathan looked around, heart sinking at the furious bedlam folding, it seemed as if practically everyone in the place was a vampire. They didn’t have a chance.

And then SHE strutted into the bar and in his heart. A beauty with the face of an angel and the body of a centrefold.

And the mouth of a sailor and the brawling skill of a company of off-duty marines.

The moment the raspy-voiced beauty stepped through the door, a vampire lunged at her only to be met by a casually yet effectively flung stake to the chest. The Slayer, because that’s who she had to be, burst through the exploding dust to block a left hook on her forearm while swinging a stake across her curvy body and under her parrying arm straight into her rival’s chest while at the same time catching another attacker with a headbutt to the face.

The vampire’s face disappeared in a visceral spray. The demon stumbled backwards, too dazed to avoid a coolly-delivered stake.

Another vampire ran at the supernatural warrior from behind. The moment the demon reached for the battling beauty she snapped off a back heel kick that caught the creature square in the chest, throwing him through the already broken window.

Another vampire launched herself out of the wild melee, her blond hair swinging as she tackled the Slayer around the waist, knocking her to the ground. The Slayer twisted in mid-air, legs wrapping around the vampire’s waist as she landed on top. The stunned vampire blocked the Slayer’s attempted staking but was unable to prevent her grabbing a handful of blonde ringlets and repeatedly smashing the back of her head against the unforgiving floor. The moment the blonde was too stunned to resist, the Slayer staked her.

And then the ebony-eyed lovely was up and tearing through the vampires, moving at a blur. In seconds it was all over, the remaining vampires either fled or dead.

"Damn," the brunette grinned, "it’s always good to get my slay on."

Jonathan’s heart dropped when an athletic-looking African-American moved up to the Slayer’s side. Of course a girl like her would have a studly boyfriend. Not that she’d look at him even if she was single.

"Oh boy." Jonathan’s head snapped to his left to see a bloodied and dust-covered Xander dragging himself up on the bar, a glazed look in his eyes and blood dripping down his neck. After a second their leader’s eyes zeroed in on the curvy brunette, a weary smile lighting his face. "You’re the Slayer right?" his friend stumbled around the counter. "I’m," Xander looked at the others, "we’re the resistance, pleased to meet you."

"Yeah," the raven-haired warrior shot his friend an almost bored look, "it’s been a real trip for me."

From his position Jonathan could no longer see Xander’s face, but he could make out his friend’s shoulders stiffening,. "Listen-."

Suddenly Xander’s legs buckled under him. The Slayer instinctively leapt forward, catching him as he fell. "Damn!" the brunette looked around. "He needs help now!"

Cordelia rushed over to the duo. After shooting her boy-friend a concerned look and the Slayer a frosty one, the former cheerleader spoke. "We’ve got first aid stuff back at our base."

"Wicked," the Slayer nodded. "In that case you can take him-."

"We’d like to come along," commented the bespectacled man who’d also accompanied the Slayer. The Slayer shot him an angry look, the Englishman shook his head. "The last two Slayers made the mistakes of going it alone, I feel it wise to find allies."

"Allies sure, but this lot?" the Slayer sniffed.

"Hey!" the cheerleader yelled. "You’re no prize, Biker Butch!"

"Ladies, please!" the guy who had to be a Watcher took his life into his own hands by stepping between the Slayer and the even more terrifying Cordelia. "This is hardly the time for this discussion. More vampires might appear at any time. Perhaps one of you could give us directions?"

"I’ll give you a ride," Jonathan squeaked then reddened as he realised too late what he’d said "I mean-."

The Slayer shot him an amused look. "I know what you meant."

* * *

"There it is! There it is!"

"Yeah," Faith shot the dwarf an amused look. He’d been like this the entire journey, switching between babbling and drooling. And yet there was a sort of innocence about him that prevented her from suffering her usual irritation with such behaviour. "I see it. Cool digs." The house was a sprawling three storey mansion beside the town’s biggest park.

"Indeed, and how can a group apparently made up of teens afford such a place?"

Faith noted the wariness in her Watcher’s voice, but half-pint, clearly intent on impressing her, didn’t. "Oh, that was Xander’s idea," the kid babbled. "We went onto he FBI and Interpol’s most wanted lists. Then using that information I found and hacked into the bank accounts of the world’s worst drug barons and arms smugglers." Faith snorted, amused by the ballsiness of such an action. "We only take half a percent of the accounts’ annual interest, but it’s still more than enough to pay for this place, our bills, our food, clothes, medical supplies, weaponry, and training."

"Your training?" Faith queried, interested despite herself.

Jonathan beamed at her question. "It was Xander’s idea, he’s a great leader!" Faith rolled her eyes. If not for the drool when he’d first seen her, she’d figure Short-Round was gay. "This guy, Everett Blaine, he lives in town, he’s like a black belt in six martial arts. He’s made studying the fighting arts his life. He used to run a dojo in town until Xander bought him out for triple its worth and offered him double his annual profits to exclusively train us. Which he’s done for the past two and a half years." Jonathan paused. "Xander’s the best of course-."

Faith’s lips quirked up in a mocking half-smile. "Of course."

The demon hunter faltered at her comment before continuing. "Soldier-Boy’s memories help him. Larry and Percy are next best, they used to be on the football team."

"And you, how do you do?"

The guy seemed to shrink into his seat. After a second their guide shrugged. "I guess I do okay."

For some reason Faith felt a stab of remorse at the embarrassment that flickered across her fellow teen’s face. "Hey, maybe I could show you some moves," she found herself offering.

"Yeah," the teen beamed, "that’d be great!"

"We’re here," her Watcher called as he ponderously completed his parking. "Let’s meet up with the rest of Jonathan’s companions."

"Can hardly wait," Faith drawled.

The lounge was large, the size of her mom’s crib back in Boston, with plenty of leather couches for its users to lounge on, and grilles on its probably bullet-proof windows. Its floor was covered in a cream carpet so thick and soft it was like walking on air.

"Hello, I’m Wesley Whyhdham-Pryce; this rather large gentleman is Charles Gunn, LA demon hunter, and Faith Lehane, my Slayer."

"I’m Xander Harris," a grey-streaked, line-faced man that had to be twenty years older than the rest of the resistance fighters stepped forward, a blood-drenched dressing stuck to his thick neck. Faith recognised him as the man who’d collapsed into her arms.

"Ah! Mr Harris!" Wesley looked towards her. "Faith, this is the young man who started the second Slayer line!" Faith raised an eyebrow, so he had to be about the same age as the rest of them, his life must have been wicked hard. "It’s an honour to make your acquaintance. Mr Giles’ diaries were most complimentary about you."

"Oh, I thought fashion victim Buffy was bad enough, but now we’ve got trailer trash Slayer." Faith’s eyes narrowed as she heard the giggled comment and picked out its speaker, a pretty if vacant-looking blonde. There’d be time to deal with her later.

"However," she realised the Watcher was still droning on, "I understood your ‘Scooby’ gang was much smaller."

"It was," hearing the hurt in the resistance leader’s voice, Faith suddenly understood that it was his pain that had aged him. "After he’d killed Buffy, Ripper attacked the high school through the tunnels beneath it, probably hoping to kill all those she’d known. Dozens died, but some of the survivors volunteered to join me and Cordy in fighting Ripper."

"What are the names scratched in the wall behind you?" Gunn suddenly interrupted.

The young man looked down, his eyes growing even more sorrowful. "That’s our wall of remembrance – Jesse, Miss Calendar, Buffy, Kendra, everyone who’s fought and fallen has their names scratched there."

Faith figured that’d be a great comfort to their corpses. "Well that’s moving," her Watcher commented. Sad thing was the sap wasn’t jokin’, she was expecting tears any second. "But perhaps you could introduce us to your live cohorts."

"Oh right," the young man unconsciously raised his hand to the bandaged side of his neck before continuing. "Jonathan you’ve already met, he’s our electronic whiz and gadgets guy."

Faith glanced towards the short teen. "Gadgets guy?"

The young man reddened at her attention. "I’ve invented some weapons to fight vampires."

"Yeah?" Faith raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn’t mind seeing them some time."

The boy’s blush deepened. "I…I’ll show you them a…any time you want."

Faith grinned. She just bet he would. "This is Cordelia," Xander continued with a look towards a striking brunette, "my girlfriend." Faith’s brow furrowed, girl that hot with the sort of clothes she wore had to be slumming it with him. Either that or she was a thrill-seeker. "This is Amy Madison, our witch and research whiz," Xander’s gaze moved from the Wicca to an Oriental-looking girl, "this is Joy." Finally he turned towards the group’s other boys. "That’s Frederick Iverson, former editor of our school paper, Michael Cjajak, he’s a warlock, Devon, he used to front the biggest band in Sunnydale," like that was an accomplishment, Faith smirked, "and they’re Owen, Scott, Percy, and Larry," the resistance leader finished.

"Don’t forget me!" harped the blonde.

From the look on Harris’ face, he’d dearly love to. "And this is Harmony."

"Honoured to meet you all," Wesley nodded.

"Yeah," Faith drawled with all the insincerity she could manage. "It’s been a real highlight for me too." She cast a caustic look around. "All these resources, people, and all you seem to do is squat."

An angry mutter circulated around the room and Xander glared at her. "We’re facing close to a hundred vampires here alone, four of which are amongst the world’s most feared Masters. And what about you?" the young man sneered. "It’s over two years since the last Slayer came here. What have you been doing? Working on your embroidery?"

"Embroidery? How about," Faith smiled sweetly, "I rip YOUR prick off and shove it up YOUR ass?"

Eyes glittering, the young man opened his mouth to retort. "Xander, why don’t you tell us more about the forces you face? We already know about Ripper and Angelus, but perhaps you could inform us about the other vampires and their habits?"

"Fine," Harris tore his gaze away from her and to her Watcher. "Near as we can tell it Angelus is Ripper’s no 2."

"English said Angelus was a player," Gunn interrupted. "Any tension between the two, something we could maybe work on?"

"Oh there’s tension," Xander’s smile was like ice. "But Ripper kicked Angelus’ ass big time when he rose."

"Oh yeah," Xander’s main squeeze chirped in, "Angelus used to be serious eye-candy, not any more."

"And the other Masters under Ripper’s command?" Wesley asked.

"Penn, one of Angelus’ childes and Mr. Trick," Faith shuddered. "Met him?" Faith nodded at Harris question.

"And what of Drusilla and Spike?" Wesley hurriedly put in, her Watcher saving her from having to answer any further questions about her past with Trick. "I understand they were working with Angelus before Ripper rose?"

"They were," Harris confirmed with a nod. "But from what we understand, Ripper couldn’t stand Dru, something about her ramblings," Xander smiled wryly. "As someone who’d met Dru, I can definitely sympathise. But Ripper knew if he moved against Dru, he’d have to kill Spike too. So he sent Spike on some decoy mission," the Sunnydaler broke off to stare at a suddenly grimacing Watcher, "what?"

"The mission was the wiping out of the Council."

"Oh," Harris stared at Wesley for a long second before continuing. "Once Spike had left Sunnydale, he had Angelus and Penn kill Dru. When Spike returned, Ripper, Angelus, Penn, and Trick ambushed and killed him."

"Very cunning," Wesley sighed, worry lines forming on his forehead. "And are there any other significant notable vampires? Competition?"

"Competition?" Xander chuckled and shook his head. "A girl by the name of Sunday arrived in town with maybe half a dozen childes. She thinks she’s someone, but the moment she annoys Ripper too much, he’ll squash her like an ant." The young man paused. "There are two other notable vampires in Ripper’s crew though. When Ripper made his move for underworld domination, Wolfram & Hart sent one of their brightest and best to negotiate a truce with him. A lady lawyer by the name of Lillah. To show he wasn’t interested in sharing, Ripper turned her. She now runs the administrative side of his empire."

"Oh really?" Wesley chuckled.

"Got a plan, Wes?" Faith asked. He mightn’t be worth shit in a fight, but her Watcher could plan.

"The beginnings of one," Wesley turned to Xander, "does this Lillah have any notable powers?"

"Legs to die for but last year’s fashion sense," Cordelia replied.

"He meant things that were actually useful, cheerleader," Faith put in. The taller brunette eye-balled her. Faith grinned, girl had moxie.

"She’s just more intelligent than most vampires," Xander hurriedly interrupted. "And then there’s Ethan Rayne."

"Ethan Rayne? He’s here?" Wesley gasped.

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "Seems old Ethan had a jones for power. So he came here to get some, only Ripper turned him immediately."

"And all these vamps, wanna tell us about their habits and stuff?" Bored of leaning against the door, Faith dropped into a chair opposite Harmony and winked slowly. The blonde coloured and looked away, confirming Faith’s suspicions.

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "They don’t hunt in town unless they’re looking for someone or something specific. Ripper doesn’t like the attention."

"How do they feed then?" Gunn asked.

"Ripper’s out of town underlings send him ‘tribute’," Xander grimaced. "Basically runaways snatched from the streets of America’s major cities. Only the best mind. If Ripper isn’t happy, you’re dust."

"Nice," Faith couldn’t prevent a shudder. If she hadn’t been Called, that could have been her fate.

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "His major base is The Bronze, he has other places, but they’re all heavily guarded."

"We’ll need a list so we can recon." Xander’s mouth opened, but Faith pre-empted him. "They won’t see me." Xander shrugged. "What about the players, their likes\dislikes?"

"Your choice." Xander looked towards Jonathan. "Intel guy."

Jonathan reddened as every eye turned to him. Faith grinned, his shyness was kinda cute. "Ripper runs a tight ship, mess up once and you best change your name and run. Try and betray him and it’s even worse." The youth shuddered and looked towards her. "No-one’s allowed to kill a Slayer, they have to be brought to him. He likes to play with them. He also likes us, gets a kick out of our efforts. Angelus hates Ripper but hasn’t got a powerbase to move against him. His tastes runs to innocents – babies, virgins, priests, that sort of thing. Penn is fanatically loyal to Angelus. He nuttier than any of them, has a thing for families. But when he gets the urge, Ripper has him leave town to do it. Trick, we understand he was a slave turned by his owner two hundred years ago," Wesley nodded, "he hates white people. Ethan’s a real toady for Ripper, he likes to do magical experimentation on people. Lillah works out of an office on 17^th Street, she goes for pretty girls."

"Doesn’t kill them though," Amy commented. "Just disfigures them, cuts or burns their faces off, gouges out their eyes and then lets them go."

"Okay," Faith muttered, "that’s sick."

"Is that it" Jonathan nodded at Wes’ question. "Then I suggest we retire?"

Xander nodded. "Jonathan could you show Gunn and Faith to the guest wing." The resistance leader looked at Wes. "I think there’s stuff we need to talk about."

* * *

"This is your room, Mr. Gunn and yours is next door, Faith."

"Yeah," Faith grinned at the youth, "question is though," she gently bumped the youth with her hip, "where’s your room?" She slowly licked her lips. "You know, just in case I need you for anything later. A girl can get lonely."

Jonathan reddened and backed away. "Um, just down the hallway. Bye."

Faith chuckled in her throat. Damn, that was fun. "That wasn’t cool." She looked up to see Gunn staring disapprovingly down at her. "We’re trying to make allies here, dial it down a little. Kid seems nice, you didn’t have to tease him like that."

Faith scowled up at the demon hunter. "Sleep with a guy a couple of times, he thinks he owns ya. Newsflash, no one owns me!" Faith grabbed a hold of her door handle.

"Hey," the African-American’s hand dropped onto her shoulder, "don’t be like that. I was just offering some advice. And," the black chuckled, "if you’re feelin’ lonely…"

Faith shot the man a scornful look. "I won’t go short of company," she asserted. "And just for the record, three times ain’t the charm, Chuck."

Faith scowled as she closed her room’s door behind the protesting black. When she’d gained her powers, she’d swore she’d allow no-one, especially a man, to order her about. Didn’t stop the pricks trying though.

She forced herself to calm by thinking about the resistance group. It was a helluva sitch that Wes had got her into, but at least she wouldn’t have to go sneaking out to have some fun, there was some definite candidates.

Harris wasn’t much to look at, life had pretty much wrecked his looks. But the guy had serious backbone. That was a wicked turn-on. Plus life had taught her that things ran easier when you had a gang’s leader on side.

Devon had the sleazy rock thing going, that always got her going. Cjajak though, he was too weird even for her. Scott Hope was just a generic pretty boy, but she didn’t have a problem sharing her bed with someone who was nice to look at. Percy looked like a typical meat-head jock, but she didn’t pick guys for their brains. Owen looked kinda up himself, but nice enough. Larry was out, definitely a fag. Not that she held that against him, kinda hard to seeing as she swung both ways. Then there was Jonathan, Faith smiled softly, there was something sweet about the shy kid, maybe she wouldn’t mind making a man out of him.

So there was plenty of variety, plenty of beds to rock. But first there was Harmony. That bitch had a lesson to learn.

* * *

"Sire."

Ripper rolled out of bed at Angelus’ voice outside his bedroom, slapping his slumbering bed partner on the ass as he did so. "I’ll be with you in a moment," he retorted before sliding a finger down Joy-Joy’s back. "And you’ve been a naughty girl." Joy-Joy giggled. "Which is how I like you. Get yourself a fresh feed from the pens."

"Thank you, a yummy treat."

"Bloody right." After sliding on his dressing gown, he walked out of his room and to the vampire stood slouched against the wall. "I hope you had a damn good reason for interrupting me."

The Irish vampire stiffened at his tone. "I think so. The ambush was foiled."

"Foiled?" Ripper scowled. He’d wanted SOME of the resistance to escape, but this sounded different. "By who?"

Angelus paused, a worried look flickering across his scarred features. "The Slayer."

"The Slayer." Ripper shivered and closed his eyes in rapture. The Council had been destroyed, but the Slayer Line remained. And as long as what Watchers who survived were foolish enough to send their girls against him, he’d continue to enjoy butchering them.

"This better be good," Harmony seethed at the insistent knocking on the door. Everyone knew better than to bother her after lights out. A girl needed her beauty sleep.

Pulling on her knee-length robe, she hurried to the door and yanked it open. Her jaw dropped as she recognised the interloper. "You!"

The sultry Slayer smirked at her reaction. "Hey Harm, that robe looks wicked on ya. Bet it’d look even better off ya." She gasped when the supernatural warrior unfastened her robe, placed a hand on her belly, slid it round to and down her lower back, coming to a halt on her butt. "Feels wicked good." Harmony raised a hand to slap the brunette only for the other girl to easily catch her hand, other hand staying where it was. "Fiesty," the Slayer’s smirk widened. "I saw the way you were looking at me even when you were talkin’ shit. Tell me you don’t want me?" Harmony licked her lips but couldn’t deny her heart’s passionate flutter. "Yeah that’s what I figured." The Slayer crushed her soft lips to hers, her hot tongue working its way into Harmony’s receptive mouth. The Slayer pulled away, brushed blond strands off Harmony’s neck and whispered in her ear, tongue tickling her lobe. "Wanna carry this on inside?"

Harmony’s legs almost unbuckled beneath her. "S…sure."

* * *

"Your team seems to be very well organised," Wesley complimented as the resistance leader led him into the kitchen. "I understand from Mr. Levinson that you have infra-red sensors and a pressure mat built into the front entrance and sprinklers filled with holy water in every corridor. Most inventive. I’d also be very interested to see the other innovations that Mr. Levinson mentioned-."

"I’m not sure you’ll be staying," Xander interrupted.

Wesley stared at the old beyond his years resistance fighter. "I beg your pardon?"

The young man stared steadily at him. "I’ve heard lots of stuff about your Slayer. How great a warrior she is. But also how out of control. I now know both are true."

Wesley felt moved to leap to his charge’s defence. "Faith is high-spirited, but it is that very high spirit that makes her such an effective warrior."

It was as if he hadn’t spoken. "To survive here, we’ve had to work as a team. Faith might kick ass, but she is a disruptive force. You’re her Watcher, she’s your responsibility."

"I am hardly her owner," Wesley retorted.

Xander shook his head. "God knows I don’t want another robot, watching Kendra was almost heart-breaking. But a Watcher is meant to look after his Slayer."

"Faith is a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions." This time Wesley was moved to speak in his own defence.

"Was she when you became her Watcher?" Wesley’s silence condemned him. "Looking at the way she behaves, the rumours I’ve heard, I’m guessing she was an abused child. Her Watcher should and could have been her second chance, the nearest thing she had to a parent." Wesley reddened as he realised that was just what Ms. Walters had been to Faith. "At the very least they should be what Giles," the younger man’s breath caught for a second. "What Giles was to Buffy, a friend, a sounding board, and a shoulder to lean on." The young man paused, wisdom beyond his years in his dark eyes. "You had a chance to really help this girl, but you blew it."

Wesley’s flush deepened, discomforted by the American’s barbs. "Faith is a problematic-."

"She’s hard work," Xander glared at him. "So you decided to give up on her, turn a blind eye to her problems."

"You’ve no right to judge me!" Wesley snapped, something of his father’s ugly temper rearing inside him. "You have no idea about Faith and I!"

The young man appeared unaffected by his anger. "I know enough to worry just what effect she’ll have on morale. Things are hard enough without importing extra trouble."

* * *

"Well that went well." Xander groaned as he wearily stumbled through his mansion’s half-lit corridors, the greyness of the wallpaper only adding to his bleak mood. As usual his undiplomatic mouth had opened a can of worms, this time an almighty row between him and the Watcher.

The hell of it was he knew he was right. From what the others had said the Slayer had slain eight vampires in roughly as many seconds. And when he’d looked into her eyes, he’d seen unshakable confidence but also the same sort of hurt betrayal he’d felt when his dad got handy. There was a great warrior there, but also someone in need of help, help he could maybe provide, but his people, his new family, had to come first.

Reaching the door to the room he shared with Cordelia, he opened it and walked into the darkened chamber. "I saw the way you looked at that floozy."

Xander groaned inwardly. He so didn’t need one of those ‘conversations’. "What floozy?" he affected a light tone. "There’s only one floozy for me."

"Right answer." He sensed rather than saw his girl-friend’s beaming smile. "Now come over here and get your reward."

Xander grinned as he hurried towards the bed, dragging his shirt over his head as he did so. Okay, so maybe his life didn’t suck completely.

* * *

"That was quite a time," Faith drawled as she slid off the bed and started to pull her clothes back, eyes fixed on the glistening blonde sprawled on the bed. "I bet they heard your screams in the next street over." Faith smirked. "Bet they wondered if I was gutting or fucking you."

"You could stay."

"Nah," Faith shook her head. "This was an one-time only deal."

"But why?" A distressed look on her face, the cheerleader sat up on the edge of the bed.

"It’s simple really," Faith’s face hardened. "You talked down to me like I was shit. So I figured I’d give you the ride of your life, ruin you for man and gal. And," Faith’s soft laugh was filled with venom, "if your buds didn’t know you swung both way, they sure as hell do now."

"You bitch!"

Faith caught Harmony’s swung slap and pushed her back down onto the bed. "Yeah, I’m a bitch. You might want to remember that next time you try and come up against me, ‘cause next time you’ll spend a month eating through a straw." A grin on her face, Faith walked out of the former cheerleader’s room, kicking the door shut behind her.

"Are you quite finished acting like a cheap trollop?"

Faith spun around to face the speaker , her good mood evaporating. "Who the hell do you think you’re talkin’ to?" she demanded through narrowed eyes.

The Watcher took a half-step back at her grating tone but quickly recovered. "I think I’m talking to a beautiful, brave, spirited, and intelligent young woman who unfortunately doesn’t value herself anything like as much as she should." Faith stared dazedly at the Englishman. "I grow tired of putting up with your constant bed-hopping, lowering yourself to the likes of Ms. Kendall and worse for a quick thrill."

"What? You jealous you’re off the invite list?" Faith was still reeling under the Watcher’s first words, but managed a weak retort. "You had your chance and you blew it!"

"I’d be lucky to be chosen by you. As long as it was for the right reasons," Wesley half-smiled before sobering. "Your mother might not have wanted you. Your father might have deserted you. But the powers that be, one of the most powerful entities for good in the known universe, chose you out of millions to be its champion." The Watcher paused, allowing his momentous words to sink in. "Do you really have to make yourself feel wanted by acting like a slapper?"

Faith stared at the Englishman, bemused by his words. "I….. I ain’t cut out for a nun’s habit."

"A less likely candidate for nunhood would be nigh on impossible to find." Wesley chuckled. "I wouldn’t expect you to become a nun, merely have enough respect to pick someone worthy of all you have to offer." Faith stared at the Englishman. "And on another matter," Wesley paused momentarily. "Also worthy of respect are our new companions. They don’t have your powers or my training, and yet they stand against the same forces as we do. You might want to think about that." The Watcher turned on his heel and walked away.

* * *

Sweat broke out on Wesley’s forehead as he strode away from the beautiful Bostonian. Only the certain knowledge that running wouldn’t enable him to escape the sultry Slayer’s wrath prevented him from picking up the pace and galloping away. He’d seen his Slayer’s anger in action. Once a trio of youths had decided no meant yes and as a result, Ms. Walters and he had been forced to use their contacts to get three counts of attempted murder dropped. Every woman had a right to defend herself, but Faith’s assault had been frenzied in the extreme, only sheer luck had prevented her from becoming a triple-murderer.

Unfortunately his honour had demanded he’d act. He’d tried to defend himself against Harris’ verbal attack, but the younger man’s words had cut deep primarily because they were true. He had turned a blind eye to the Slayer’s wild behaviour, concentrating only on her Slaying. And in doing so, he’d allowed an already damaged child to further hurt herself.

Shame caused his cheeks to flush. He only hoped his words would cause the troubled teen to re-assess her behaviour and realise her true worth. And didn’t instead cause a still greater rift between the two of them.

* * *

Someone worthy of all you have to offer.

Faith stared open-mouthed after her retreating Watcher, a slow anger building up inside her. Where did he get off talking to her like that? The rat bastard-.

Except, Faith paused in her internal rant as his words sank in. What exactly had the Englishman said? That she was beautiful? That she was smart? That she was brave? That she deserved to be happy?

Someone worthy of all you have to offer.

All her life she’d chosen sleazes and tough guys because she thought that was all she could get. Gunn was better than that, but she hadn’t known that when she made her move on him.

Yeah, if she was gonna be this new Faith she needed a new type of guy, a steady instead of an one night stand, to go with it. And, she slowly smiled, she had just the guy in mind.

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