As she approached the gym she could hear the sound of fist and foot hitting heavy bag, the breathless grunts of the exerciser, and the bag’s iron chain rattling as it swung. Faith peered through the doorway, a smile tugging on her lips as she saw her honey, before striding through, hips swinging saucily. "Hey, stud."

Jonathan started at her deliberately huskily seductive purr. "Hey," her boy-friend’s face reddened at her stalking approach, Faith grinning inwardly. Damn, he was so predictable, sweet though. "I figured I’d get some time on in the heavy bags," he explained.

"Never can get enough trainin’," Faith agreed as she came to a stop a few feet from Jonathan. There was somethin’ off about him, somethin’ different, cautious, no he was always cautious, the word was wary, yeah wary. "But I figured we could get our own sorta exercise," Faith wriggled her eyebrows, "if you know what I mean?

"I thought we should maybe," Jonathan momentarily looked down at his sneakers before glancing up, the short boy having trouble meeting her eyes, and not for the usual reason either, "slow down."

"Slow down?" Faith’s ebony eyes narrowed. Guys always wanted, no expected, her to speed up, but Faith reminded herself that Jonathan wasn’t ‘xactly the usual sort she went for. But then he’d been reserved with her ever since the whole mess with the Deputy Mayor. "Look," Faith tried for diplomatic, never a good look on her. Mainly ‘cause she was the shits at it. "I know it was a major thing killin’ Finch," Jonathan half-flinched, "but he was a bad guy, a major part of why this town is the way it is. You can’t get hung up on that."

"I…it’s not that," Jonathan licked his lips, his eyes not meeting hers and not for the usual reason either, his eyes were strictly fixed on his feet.

Faith counted to five before continuing. ‘Kay it was the shyness thing, she could handle that. "Look, I know you ain’t ‘xactly experienced." She resisted the urge to shake her head when Jonathan flinched again. All she’d said was the truth. "But that’s cool by me, I’ve got the experience for the both of us," she tilted her head to one side and smirked, "I’ll steer you around the curves. After all, how many guys can say their first time was with a babe like me?"

"Ah," Jonathan’s blushed deepened even more. "That’s not it. It’s…."

"Come on," Faith prodded with a patience she didn’t feel, "I’m outta guesses."

"Harmonysaidagirllikeyouwouldneverbeinterestedinmeforlong!"

Faith’s brow furrowed as she took a moment to translate Jonathan’s nervous babble. "A girl like me?" she queried. "What the hell is that ‘posed to mean?" Before Jonathan could answer she continued, on a mother-fuckin’ tear she was. "Heh, that bitch might be the only gal whose seen more action than I have! She practically screams bimbo whore, but you think she should tell us if our relationship’s goin’ anywhere?" Faith’s temper snapped. "If you’re so dumb as to fall for whatever crap Harmony sells you, you ain’t the nice smart guy I thought I was gettin’!" Jonathan’s mouth opened, but she continued over him. "You can go to hell! Hey, you listen to cheerleaders so much, how about you try and get yourself one, ‘cause you are DUMPED!"

Faith spun on her heel and strode out, desperate to get away from Jonathan before her resolved mask cracked and the hurt poured out. She’d thought he was different, a sweet guy who could actually feel somethin’ for someone with her grubby past. Instead he was just like all the rest, another disappointment to add to the long list.

Faith forced back tears as she strode up the stairs leading from the gym and into the corridor leading to the living quarters. She wasn’t goin’ to cry, she promised fiercely. She didn’t do tears. ‘Specially not over a loser like Jonathan.

"Faith," Harmony stepped out of one of the rooms to purr, eyes filled with malice, "I do hope you feel alright? You’re looking ill, I wouldn’t want you to come down with anything."

Harmony jumped as Faith’s elbow snapped to the left, the blow denting and cracking the wall’s plaster. "Feelin’ a lot better now, Harm," she lied. "But if I ever feel the need to hit somethin’ I’ll come looking for you, dealio?" Faith was past the paling cheerleader before she had chance to respond, out of the corridor and into her room.

It was only after the door slammed shut behind her she gave in and allowed the tears to flow.

He gasped and wheezed as he raced through the park, conscious of the demons trailing him, one behind, one to the left, and one to the right. Sweat beaded down his face as he staggered, stumbled and righted himself, arms wildly wind-milling as he lost all semblance of a running style in his ragged, exhausted state. He intuitively knew with the prey’s instinct that his hunters were herding him and when they had him where they wanted, they’d take him.

Knew but was helpless to do anything about it.

Suddenly he heard a strangled cry from the monster to his left, heard a screech and a pop.

Then a leather-clad goddess swept past and behind him. Parker tried to turn to see what was happening, but his blazing with lactic acid legs chose exactly that moment to betray him, pitching him to the ground in an ungainly heap.

What he saw was definitely worth the fall. The girl was about five five with a curves in all the right places body encased in a dark as the night silk blouse and matching skin-tight leather pants. Layered midnight tresses bounced as the brunette beauty danced in and out of her two attackers’ blows, the previously sublimely graceful monsters now seeming clumsy in comparison.

And then she was ducking left and right, a piece of wood slamming into the chest of the demon to her right as her cowboy-booted foot snapped out to the left, doubling up the vampire stood there. In the same, gracefully effortless move, the woman spun around and drove her weapon through the back of the demon, it following the others into dust.

His heart caught as she spun to face him, her glossly locks contrasting wildly with her flawless, milk-white skin, dark eyes so luminous, and full, red lips parted in a smirk. "Hey," she husked, sticking her hand, "saw you were having problems. I’m Faith, you?"

He grinned as the girl pulled him to his feet. His night was looking up already. "Parker, Park Abrams. Thanks for that. Say," he affected a helpless look, "I don’t suppose you’ve somewhere I can stay?"

* * *

Holtz waited until the ‘Nightstalkers’, he sniffed disdainfully at the childish name, before creeping down to their gym, picking the lock to the gun cabinet with pathetic ease. He stared with interest at the guns racked there. Although a former soldier, the guns of his time had been far less sophisticated in his days. "Let’s see how you like these, Angelus," he chuckled before lifting out one of the shotguns, fingers dancing lovingly over its polished finish, "bullets might not kill you, but they’ll hurt you yes. They’ll hurt so very much."

"Hey, what are you doing in here?" Holtz glowered at the voice. Placing the shotgun down, he turned to face the interloper, a guileless smile replacing the scowl as he nodded at the young man he recognised as ‘Larry’. "I am merely inspecting the weapons, not to mention marvelling at this time’s ingenuity."

"Well," the burly youth ambled over to him, "Xander doesn’t like people messing with the-, ahhh!" the boy’s lecture turned to a gurgle when Holtz drove the point of his elbow into his throat. His face purpling, the boy doubled-up into a face-lock, Holtz cinching his arm tightly around the boy’s neck and holding the youth there until his struggles died out. Then Holtz released his hold, the unconscious youth slumping to the gym floor. Holtz grabbed his shotgun and stepped over the youth’s motionless body. He had a holy mission, a mission given to him from God, and no one was going to get in his way.

Tonight, Angelus died.

* * *

"The Bronze," he muttered as he pulled his purloined car to a halt outside the former club. "Ripper’s headquarters." He smiled at the music roaring out of the club. "Sounds like quite a party, I always like crashing them."

* * *

Ripper stiffened as the door opened and a man strode in, the club falling instantly silent, dancers stopping, and even feeding pausing. The man who’d entered looked to be in his mid forties, a short but thickly muscled man with brown skin and straggly, shoulder-length grey hair, his predatory grey eyes flanking a hooked nose.

Of course it wasn’t a man, that much was immediately obviously, the amount of power crackling off the jeans and t-shirt wearing vampire was enough to make the hairs on the back of Ripper’s neck prickle.

"An old one," Tara licked at his ear lobe, "a strong one, from times long long ago."

"Yeah, I know," Ripper rose from the upper floor couch he, Tara, and Joyce had been ‘enjoying’ themselves on with a languid grace, concealing his worry, "always a pleasure to have guests," he greeted as he strode down the stairwell and onto the hushed dance floor, "even uninvited ones." He paused. "Now my name’s Ripper, and this," he looked around the club, "is my gaff." His gaze returned to the shorter vampire. "What’s your name, mate?"

The vampire flashed him a sly smile that just got his hackles to rise. "I’ve had many names, but you can call me Sekhmet."

Sekhmet. Ripper forced away the icy finger sliding up his backbone. Sekhmet was one of Il Primo Helluos, one of the legendary vampires that pre-dated even the likes of Lothos, the Master, and Kakistos. According to all the records that he’d been able to find, Sekhmet even pre-dated the ancient Egyptians, putting his age at at least five thousand years. "No aging?" Ripper commented for wont of anything else to say.

Sekhmet smiled. "A simple glamour," the vampire explained. "Allows me to move around the cattle without them realising." The Egyptian vampire chuckled. "As for this being your gaff, well you’ve built a fine operation here, and what you did to Wolfram & Hart, sheer genius." The vampire suddenly vamped out. "But I’m the senior vampire here now boy."

Ripper didn’t bother with an answer, leaping at his challenger. He gasped as the demon grabbed his arms as the elbows and twisted at the waist and flung him into a near-by pillar. Ripper grunted as his back crashed into the unyielding stone support, the force of the collision cracking it.

Ripper gasped as pain roared through his spine, but sucked it up in time to kick out at Sekhmet as he swooped in. The Egyptian vampire sidestepped his attack, but gave Ripper the split-second he needed to reach his feet.

Grasping a bottle off a near-by table, Ripper slammed it into the side of his rival’s head. Sekhmet stumbled back a step then charged back in, his knee coming up to catch Ripper in the ribs.

Ripper grunted as the blow connected, ignoring the resulting pain to hook an arm around the leg, holding it to his body as he rammed a trio of fast right hooks into his rival’s face, his adversary’s head snapping to the side after each blow. Sekhmet fell away as Ripper threw a fourth hook, hitting the ground on his shoulders and rolling up.

Ripper met the demon with a thrust kick to the chest that the middle- eastern demon swayed around. Ripper gasped as the demon grabbed his ankle, but reacted instantly, swinging his grounded leg up to kick the demon in the chest.

Sekhmet released his grounded foot as he stumbled forward, leaving Ripper to crash to the ground and roll up, right into a straight right to the jaw. Ripper growled as he tasted his own blood, ducking under the Egyptian’s spin-kick and leaping forward, attempting a wrestling takedown.

"Arrrgh!" He growled when Sekhmet drove an elbow between his shoulder-blades, pain flaring through his arms as he crashed into the smaller vampire. Sekhmet grabbed him under his arms and flung him from him, Ripper hitting the dusty ground on his back, and rolling away from the Egyptian’s attempted stomp. The moment he reached his feet Ripper charged back into the fight, leading with a flurry of fists, elbows, knees, and feet that occasionally contacted, but all too often found air.

And then Sekhmet grabbed his wrist and judo-threw him face-first into a pillar. "Oh bollocks," Ripper groaned as his opponent followed that up with a knee to the back. Feeling his adversary’s arm curling around his neck, probably in an attempt to snap his neck for an easy staking, Ripper pushed off the pillar.

Sekhmet stumbled back a step, adjusted, and flung Ripper from him. Ripper grunted as he fell onto the green-baized pool table, but rolled with it, allowing momentum to carry him to the pool cue stand. Grabbing a cue, he twisted to face Sekhmet, and flung the cue through the ancient vampire’s chest, smirking slightly as he burst to dust.

"Any one else got a problem with my leadership?" Ripper growled as he looked truculently around, hiding his weary pain behind bravado. He smirked when no-one moved. If Angelus was here, it might be different, that bastard would be in like Flynn, but the rest of these cowards….

He swayed slightly as he turned to the steps and started back to where his women were. Time for a little fun now.

* * *

Angelus chuckled as he watched life pass by from the shadows. The hurrying humans desperate to be out of the darkness, to be safe, not knowing that at any moment he could strike. It was just a case of finding one that caught his fancy for whatever reason – be it attractiveness, potential as a childe, or best of all, sweet innocence. But at the moment the pickings were thin, perhaps it would be wise to move to somewhere else. The hospital, he smiled, one could always find a pretty nurse to while a few hours away with.

He started through the town, glorying in his senses. Life on the Hellmouth was so vibrant and full of flavour. Soon he was striding past the Expresso Pump, the shop having closed long ago as most businesses did these days.

"Hello Angelus."

Angelus’ blood chilled as he recognised the unmistakable rasp. He slowly turned to face his thought long-dead nemesis. "How?"

"Magic, how else?" The Victorian vampire-hunter flashed the coldest smile. "But this is the age of technology," Holtz swung his leather jacket to one side, "and I like this technology the best."

Angelus’ eyes widened as he saw the muzzle of a shotgun swing up from inside the trenchcoat. The quiet night was split by the shotgun boom as Angelus flung himself to the left and behind a car. "I’d like to know!" Angelus giggled to himself as he hid behind a rusted CV’s rear window. "Was your Caroline a wriggler when she was with you too? Woman was like a fish, all that flapping around."

"Godless bastard!"

Angelus leapt to his feet at Holtz’s anguished shout, the demon-hunter’s bellow telling him the man was to his left, so Angelus cut to the right, long strides quickly building up a distance between him and the notorious vampire-hunter. "Be seein’ you, Holtz!"

"Aaaaaaah!" The shotgun’s boom once again shattered the night. Angelus fell to his knees, pain blazing through his back where the white-hot shot had shredded it. "Ya bastard!" He snarled as he forced the pain down, rose and started to run again, agony accompanying his every step. His head swam as he this time weaved left and right to make it harder for Holtz to shot him again.

Holtz back. And he’d thought this firecracker of a Slayer was causing them with problems. Things had gotten complicated.

* * *

Wesley swallowed nervously as he entered the gym to see his glistening Slayer dancing between the gym’s several heavy bags, her attacks blurring as she hit them with a variety of punches, elbows, knees, and kicks before moving onto the next, doing an entire circuit of the bags, and then returning to the first before it had time to stop swinging. Faith at any time was a formidable opponent, but when she was as focussed as this, she became the true Slayer, a seemingly unstoppable force of nature. "Faith, may we talk?"

The Slayer pirouetted gracefully before half back-flipping and half cart wheeling out of swinging bags to land by his feet. "Yeah Wes?" The perspiring Slayer grabbed her towel hanging off a weight rack and began dabbing her mid-section down.

Which was rather distracting given her curvaceous nubility and the relative scantiness of her dark black lycra sports bra and matching spandex gym shorts. "Yes, well," Wesley felt the colour rise in his cheeks at the Slayer’s knowing wink as she let out a moan and starting rotating the towel around her undulating -.

Wesley determinedly looked away from his Slayer and towards the wall behind her. "I understand that you and Jonathan have had a falling out?"

Wesley felt the temperature drop about thirty degrees. "That ain’t none of your damn business."

"On the contrary," Wesley forced his eyes back to his Slayer. Or more specifically her dark, luminous eyes. "Your happiness is very much my concern."

"Look," the always defiant ingénue put her hands on her hips and glared at him, "I’m still Slayin’ ain’t I? Didn’t I get three vampires just last night?"

"Yes," Wesley conceded with a nod, "but your effectiveness isn’t what is worrying you, your happiness is."

Faith shook her head. "None of your business," the brunette started past him only to stop when he grabbed her arm. Faith looked at him, eyes burning through him. "How many fingers am I gonna have to break to make you let go?"

"Damn it, you impossible girl!" Wesley’s temper snapped at the less than subtle threat. "We’ve been through too much for me not to care about you!"

"No, no, no," there was now something close to panic in the Slayer’s eyes, "you can’t!"

"Of course I do," Wesley shook his head. "After all the things we’ve been through, the demons I’ve seen you best, I can’t help but feel proud of you and proud of my own small part in assisting you." Faith’s mouth opened and shut not unlike a goldfish’s. "You’ve accomplished so much, vanquished so many formidable demons. You deserve a little bit of happiness for however long you are fortunate enough to be afforded it. I believe Mr. Levinson did make you happy."

"He was just a distraction wasn’t he!" Faith snapped. "Got in the way of the Slay."

"Faith," it was a temptation to throw his hands up and walk away, leave the Slayer to her rage. Except she was more than a Slayer to him, he cared too deeply for the vibrant, spirited young woman for it to be just that, and he didn’t want this rage to engulf her, burn her up until nothing else remained inside. "Faith, I believe what makes us fight on when things seem hopelessly desperate are not from within but without."

"Eh?" Faith stared blankly at him.

Wesley sighed. "What makes us fight, hang on when all seems lost, is what we have to hold onto. Someone whose life is empty of anything but pain will not fight to live like a person who has things or people to live for."

"So you’re sayin' having stuff outside Slaying would make me a better Slayer?"

By jove, I think she’s got it. "As long as this ‘stuff’ isn’t too distracting or harmful in any way," Wesley nodded even as he got the image of his father doing cartwheels in his grave.

Faith’s mouth opened then shut, the Bostonian temptress shaking her head. "Don’t matter," the dark-haired beauty decided. "Jonathan didn’t want us, he was too busy listenin’ to Harmony talk shit."

"Good lord girl!" Wesley snapped. How could someone so intelligent at the same time be so bloody dense? "You are both very sexually experienced and a very beautiful young woman. Jonathan is neither-."

"Good job," Faith muttered, "I only drive stick."

How earthily delightful, Wesley shook his head even as colour rose in his cheeks. "T..that’s not what I meant, you bloody girl," he snapped before calming himself. "Jonathan is not an experienced young man, unused to any woman’s attention, especially one as attractive as yourself." Wesley scratched his head, good lord this bloody conversation was embarrassing, he was just grateful the girl already knew about the birds and bees.

Probably knew considerably a lot more than he did to be brutally honest.

"So?" his surly charge prompted.

Oh why did he bother? "So, it’s to be expected that a youth as sheltered as Jonathan be over-awed by the attentions of such a beautiful young lady as yourself. As the experienced one in your relationship, it’s your responsibility to help allay his fears, show him that Harmony’s talking ‘shit’."

"Maybe he ain’t worth the trouble," Faith sulkily commented.

Wesley reigned in his temper with an effort, secure in the knowledge that losing his temper with the feisty brunette accomplished exactly nothing. "That’s for you to decide of course, however I’d suggest your current attitude suggest that somewhere inside you, you think he is indeed worth the trouble." Determined to avoid the almost inevitable explosion that would follow his lecture, Wesley spun on his heel and strode out.

Well fled, but there are often times that dignity has to take second place to prudence.

* * *

Faith shook her head as she bustled through the resistance building. What the fuck did Wussley think giving her lectures about sex? Like he was such a fuckin’ expert! None of his goddamn business.

Yeah, a nice long shower that’d cool her off.

"Hey Faith, I never said thanks for before."

Faith stopped and turned, smiling slightly at the man leant on the wall to her left. Now Parker Abrams, Faith just bet he knew how to use his equipment. "Think you did," she replied as she turned to face him, hand on her hip and the chest of her sweat-plastered, gym vest casually pushed out.

Parker looked her up and down like a desert traveller who’d just found his oasis. "No, not properly." Parker flashed her grin. "Maybe we could go to your room, discuss how I could show my appreciation."

Faith started to grin then shook her head. "No," she replied. Jonathan wasn’t all head-long charge to the bedroom, but Parker, he was just like all the rest, all the other guys who just wanted to nail a sweet piece of tail. "Thanks for the offer, but I got someone."

"That nerd?" Parker threw his head back and started to laugh.

"Hey!" In a second Faith had her hand around Parker’s throat, lifting him off the ground. "That nerd has been risking his life fighting vampires for years while you’ve been screwin’ around like a dog on heat, have a little fuckin’ respect!" She dropped the youth. "You say anythin’ to Johnny, and me and you are gonna have words, you dig?" The boy nodded sullenly. "Wicked, I’m sure we’ll all get along fine now."

Turning on her heel, she walked off. Shower first then she’d have to find Jonathan. Or, she smirked, find Jonathan and then shower. Yeah, that sounded more fun….

* * *

Gunn groaned as the door slammed open and he heard Holtz enter. Seeing Larry rising and start towards the lounge, he stepped between the former football star and the entrance, his back to the door. "Be cool man, let Xander deal."

The lounge door swung open and the bearded demon-hunter glared in. "Get your equipment together. Tonight Angelus dies!"

"No one’s going anywhere," Gunn pushed Larry back even as he met the centuries out of time warrior’s gaze. "Cool it. Not without Xander’s say-so."

Holtz’s nose turned up. "You think to give me orders, boy?"

"I think," Gunn turned to face the shorter man, glaring down at him. "You call me boy again and I’m gonna be dancin’ on your head, that’s what I think."

Holtz sneered up at him, apparently unimpressed by his warning before looking past him into the hushed lounge. "Get your weapons it’s time we put an end to Angelus and his

cohorts!"

"No-body’s going anywhere." Gunn heaved a relieved sigh at the sound of Xander’s voice. If the lounge was hushed before, now it was graveyard silent. "And me and you need to talk about who is in charge here."

"You think you are worthy to lead?" Holtz sneered.

* * *

Faith nodded as she saw Cordy heading towards her. "Hey, C, ya seen Jonathan around? I kinda got a itch I’d like him to scratch."

"No and ‘ew!" Cordy’s nose wrinkled. "You’ve got to come quick, Holtz’s back and Xander’s gone to confront."

"Ah hell!"

* * *

Xander stared at the legendary vampire-hunter, a cold finger of fear itching up and down his spine. For all of that, Xander stared evenly at the older man. "Put that gun down and we’ll find out."

"As you wish," Holtz smiled suddenly, the gun dropping from his hands as he lunged at Xander.

"Ah!" Xander grunted as he slid inside a right only to catch a kick to the shin. Pain blazed through his leg as he stumbled forward, just managing to block a right hook on his arm.

His right hand came up, grabbing the vampire-hunter by his jacket and yanking him forward, his head driving down to crash into the 18^th century man’s face.

At least that was the plan, instead Holtz swung an arm up, blocking his assault on his forehead while driving a knee up and into Xander’s gut.

The air gusted out of Xander’s lungs but instead of doubling up he fell backwards, slumping into the wall behind, a quickly-delivered uppercut snapping his head back. Xander growled as Holtz smirked at him, twisting out of the way of the time-traveller’s body-shot and crashing a retaliatory elbow into the side of his adversary’s head. The demon hunter twisted at the waist towards him, Xander knocking the surprise off his face with a right to the jaw.

Blood sprayed the wall as Xander’s fist collided with the vampire-hunter’s mouth. Holtz swayed beneath his follow-up left and swung a wild right that Xander slapped aside before driving a knee up at the Englishman’s crotch only to be blocked on his thigh. Xander stepped into the man, taking a left in his stomach as pre-payment for jamming a thumb into the vampire-hunter’s left eye.

"Aaaah!"

The moment the demon hunter’s hands instinctively moved up to cover his face, Xander smashed a left hook into the side of his head while kicking his legs from under him. Xander stared down dispassionately at his downed rival. "These are my people, not yours."

* * *

Faith whistled as she watched the fight end. "Ya know C, I don’t think Xan needs my help," she glanced at the cheerleader, "well not unless you’re still playin’ the ice-maiden card," she needled. "I could help with that-." Faith grinned as the cheerleader’s hardening face then scowled as she noticed something. "Gotta scoot."

Leaping forward, she grabbed Holtz’s wrist as he reached for an ankle-sheathed knife, the demon-hunter grunting as she effortlessly twisted his arm up his back. "Nice moves, Xan," she praised, "only next time, watch your back." Faith glanced around the crowded hallway. "Everybody out, me and Holtz are gonna have words."

* * *

By the time Angelus returned to the Bronze he’d mostly healed, courtesy of a very accommodating pre-teen out walking his dog that he’d fed upon. However his shock at the return of Holtz remained unabated. "Ripper!" he roared as he pulled the former night-club’s door open. "We’ve got trouble-." His voice trailed off as he belatedly registered the ash-grey pentagram adorning the floor and the black-robe, bronze-masked figure knelt at its centre, Ripper standing by the pentagram, the club otherwise uncharacteristically empty.

"This," Ripper shot him that most unGileslike smirk he’d become used to over the past few years is, "is Vocah."

The room hall cleared at her growl, Xander last to go with a burning look at the eighteenth century demon hunter before leaving. The moment the hallway was empty, Faith released her grip and stepped back. "You need to cool down."

Holtz rose and turned to face her, his face hard. "Do not think to put hands on me again, wench. I will not permit it from the likes of you."

Likes of you? What the fuck did that mean? Quelling the instinct to find out just how many bones she could break with a single punch, Faith shook her head. "You ain’t thinkin’," she pressed. "We’ve got a real team here, you’ve got the smarts and the experience. You could be a real asset-."

"I do not need advice from a cheaply-dressed harlot!" the chauvinistic man snapped.

"You need advice from someone, ‘cause this clearly ain’t working." Faith gritted her teeth. "Look, I know you’re this shit-hot vampire hunter, and that’s great, ‘cause with all the vampires we’re facing, your help is really appreciated, but you can’t go lone wolf around here, that’ll get you killed real -."

"And who do you think you are?" the man sneered. "I will tell you what I think you are!"

"I wouldn’t advise that," Faith murmured as her temper frayed

"A cheaply-dressed, profane hussy who pays more attention to chasing men than to chasing vampires!" the time-traveller snapped. "Do not think to lecture me on my behaviour when you conduct yourself like a tavern whore!"

"Kay!" Before the man had chance to react, Faith grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall, holding him a good foot off the ground. "That’s enough!"

"Unhand me!" the man’s eyes bulged as he grabbed her wrists and vainly tried to pull them loose.

"Not until I’ve finished," Faith replied. "You’re here now, whatever bargain you had with Sardine or whatever the hell that demon prick is called is over. And just for notes, what sorta bone-headed bastard makes a deal with a demon and expects it to end well?" Faith shook her head, that wasn’t important now. "Whatever, you’re here now. This is how things are gonna be, you’re gonna work with us, be part of the team. And you’re gonna be welcome." Her eyes hardened to ebony stone. "But if you fuck around and get any of us hurt or killed because of your Lone Ranger shit, I’ll come lookin’ for ya, ya dig?"

"I dig," the demon hunter snarled as she lowered him to the ground and released her grip. "And understand this, I will not allow anything to get in my vengeance! The lord has delivered me here to vanquish Angelus, and vanquish him I shall!" With that Holtz spun on his heel and strode away.

"With some people, you can try and try," Faith shook her head as she cast a look after the departing vampire hunter. "They just won’t freakin’ listen. Annoyin’ that."

* * *

"I’m glad you agreed to come out," Wesley smiled nervously at his companion as they sat down at one of the Expresso Pump’s outside tables.

Amy smiled back at him, his own nerves reflected in her eyes. "I’m glad I came out too." Amy’s eyes suddenly darkened as she looked down at the dirty pavement. "If only to escape the mess my spell created."

"Come now," Wesley reached across the table and squeezed the young witch’s hand. "You have nothing to reprove yourself for. You brought us a legendary fighter through time at great risk to yourself. What you did was exceptionally brave and resourceful. If it goes wrong," he shrugged. "One should remember not only your motivations and efforts, but that the failure wasn’t yours, you succeeded in what you attempted, but was caused by Holtz’s mulish idiocy."

Amy smiled wanly. "Thank you."

"Quite alright," he enjoyed the moment’s comfortable silence. "And thank you again for agreeing to come out with me."

"I’m enjoying it," Amy nodded. "A chance to be away from all the gloomy talk of vampires, away from all the danger."

"Oh," Wesley felt his face fell. Was that the only reason she’d agreed?

Amy suddenly smiled impishly. "A chance to be alone with a handsome, learned older man."

"I’ll leave as soon as he gets here," Wesley deadpanned even as his heart leapt.

"Thank you." Amy nodded soberly before giggling. The witch’s face sobered. "Is Faith alright? Everyone heard about her and Jonathan…."

"I’ve tried to talk to her," Wesley sighed. His Slayer had a wild almost ferocious exterior but beneath the leather armour and devil-may-care bravado, she was still a child and one that had been abused horribly in her past.

It was Amy’s turn to squeeze his hand. "I’m sure she’ll be fine with you to look after her." The witch raised her hand to her forehead, brow furrowing as she grimaced. "My head-."

"I know," Wesley started to raise his own hand to his head only for his strength to suddenly desert him. "What’s-." He tipped forward, crashing to the ground as darkness enveloped him.

* * *

Faith swallowed as she stopped outside Jonathan’s room and stared at the door, this was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Her hand raised three times then fell limply back to her side without ever reaching the door.

"Here," she started slightly at Xander’s voice behind her, "let me help you with that."

She frowned at the man as he stepped towards the door. "What you doin’?"

"You like him, he likes you," the grey-haired warrior stepped around her to grab the door handle and shove the door open, "in this life, in our lives, we won’t find much happiness. Best to grab it where and when you can." Even as the door opened, the Sunnydaler dared to place his hand in the small of her back and push her forward. "Visitor for you, Jon. Have fun you crazy kids."

Faith turned to glare at the young man, but by the time her shock had worn off the door had already closed behind her. Faith sighed as she turned back, then flinched at Jonathan sat at his TV. "That a Playstation?" Jonathan nodded, his gaze twitchy, constantly jumping. "Wicked cool, I always wanted one."

"I…I thought we said all we had to say."

Faith blinked. Jonathan’s voice had shook as he spoke, but she hadn’t figured on him getting up the nerve to speak, just listen as she told him what was what. Strange how things never went the way you wanted them to. "We both said stuff," Faith shuffled from foot to foot, "stuff we shouldn’t."

"Faith," Jonathan interrupted her again. That was getting’ to be wicked annoyin’. "We can’t work, you’re all stuff I’m not. Beautiful, strong, confident, exciting, wild. I’m just -."

"You’re just sweet, kind, and patient," she placed a finger on the short man’s lips, stilling his verbal outburst. Worked better than a muzzle actually. "People say we’re too different, screw ‘em. What do you feel?" Jonathan gulped and reddened. "Yeah," that’s what I figured." Her confidence growing, Faith eased herself into Jonathan’s lap. "I feel it too, the way my heart jumps when you’re in the same room, the way it feels when I," she ran her thumb down the blushing boy’s cheek, "touch you. How safe I feel when," Faith took Jonathan’s arms and wrapped them around her, "you’re holding me."

"What’s best is when," Jonathan gulped. "When you’re kissing me."

"Easily sorted," Faith leaned in.

The door crashed open. "Sorry to interrupt!" Xander peered through the doorway. "But we’ve got an emergency, "Wesley and Amy have been taken into hospital!"

"Shit!" Faith jumped up. "We’ll carry this on later, Jon!"

* * *

Vocah chuckled as he watched the commotion, watched the rebels rush out from their home and into their cars. It had been pathetically simple to stroll up to the Watcher and his lady friend, and mark them with his sigil.

Foolish mortals, thinking the day’s light protected them from all of creation’s monsters.

With his distraction now fully in force it would be simple to complete the next stage of his plan. He waited until the three cars roared off up the street, leaving the house empty, before stalking across the road, carrying in his hands the time bomb the vampires had so thoughtfully made for him.

* * *

Faith’s hackles rose as she raced into the hospital, the childhood stench of mingled detergent and antiseptic catching in the back of her throat and provoking a dozen unwanted memories. Forcing her own pain down deep, she strode over to the reception counter. "Whyndhm-Pryce, where is he?"

The middle-aged, grey-haired woman looked up at her bark, eyes widening in shock. "I beg your-."

"Simple question!" she snapped, fists slammed into the desk. God her heart was beating so loudly she could barely hear her own bellows. "Where the fuck is Wesley!"

"What!" Her head snapped around when two pairs of hands grabbed her shoulders. She glared imperiously at Gunn and Jonathan. "What the hell you doing?"

"Dragging you away before you give the old dear a heart-attack," Gunn drawled.

"Maybe you should let Xander handle this," Jonathan suggested.

"Handle what?" Faith protested. "He’s my-." Her knees almost buckled under her as she realised what was happening. Her Watcher, the last connection to the nearest thing to a mom she’d ever had, and her constant companion ever since she’d been a Slayer, loyally at her side no matter what, could be dying for all she knew.

Xander swung away from the reception counter. "They’re both in the psych ward. Come on."

"Anyone else wondering about the odds of them both falling ill of the same thing at the same time?" Jonathan muttered as they started down the creepily sterile corridors.

"I smell the stench of black magic," Holtz agreed in a rumble.

"Yeah, yeah," Faith nodded as she looked up at the signs directing her where to go. Place was a freakin’ maze. "We’ll figure that out-."

"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! STOPPPPP! STOPPP!"

"Jesus!" the hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she heard Wes and Amy’s screams in the distance. She immediately picked up the pace, charging through the corridors, skipping and swerving between gurneys, porters and food trolleys with an agility and speed that left her companions in her dust.

The first room she burst into was Wes’, her Watcher’s eyes were ringed in black as tears fell continuously from them, the wildly-struggling Englishman kept in his shaking bed by the Velcroed restraints cuffed to his ankles and wrists. In an instant, she was shoving her way through the crowd of nurses and doctors surrounding the bed. "What are you doin’?" she grabbed the nearest doctor’s arm. "Do somethin’!"

The lined-faced man winced at her grip. "Orderly, remove her."

Faith snarled as a big hand dropped on her shoulder. Mood she was in that was a big fuckin’ mistake. Her elbow snapped back into the Orderly’s midsection. The tall man folded with a croak, his head sliding easily into an over the shoulder headlock that she turned into a throw that sent the big man over Wes’ bed and crashing into the far wall where he slid down to lie on the floor. "I asked you a question!" Faith snapped, her other hand having not moved and eyes not having shifted from the doctor during the half-second it took her to deal with the orderly. "And I ain’t hearin’ any answers."

The doctor’s face paled as he looked from the groaning orderly, to the madly wriggling Watcher and back at her. "D…does your friend do drugs?"

"Look at him!" Faith laughed hysterically. "He’s as stiff as they come, ‘course he don’t use drugs!"

Wesley suddenly jolted upright as far as his restraints would allow him. "HE COMES! THE TERROR OF THE AGES! HE COMES FOR US ALL!"

The doctor jumped, really it was hard to tell who freaked him out more, Wes or her. Humiliating when she thought ‘bout it. The doctor turned back towards her. "W…well we’ve given him a CAT scan, there’s no organic damage that we can see on him or his companion, but we can’t seem to sedate either of them."

"He has the mark of Vocah upon him."

* * *

Vocah strode out of the rebels’ house, robe flapping around him. Once he’d crossed the street and entered the park, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his detonator and flipped the switch.

Vocah chuckled as the house behind him exploded into flames, fire reaching up into the sky as the ground shook beneath him, debris erupting out of its roof to crash into near-by buildings and the surrounding area. Humankind was weak, but surprisingly inventive. With their bombs and missiles they really didn’t need their help to destroy themselves, they’d manage it soon enough.

Still, why let them have all the fun?

* * *

The black man glared at the burning building as he climbed out of his dark-tinted Porsche. He noted and felt the flames shooting out of its crater-like roof, turning his face away from the heat. Fire-engines surrounded the devastated building, a swarm of fire-fighters struggling to bring the blaze under control. Even as he watched half the right wall collapsed outwards, a dusty cloud billowing up as the bricks hit the ground.

"Our contacts were there?" his female companion commented. "Looks like we’re screwed."

"An accident like that, they’ll have to be injured," the dark-skinned man commented as he jumped back in the car. "We’ll try the nearest hospital."

* * *

Faith spun on her heel, glaring at Holtz framed in the hospital room door. "What ya talkin’ ‘bout Willis?" The vampire hunter stared at her then glanced meaningfully at the doctor. "Yeah," Faith strolled over to him and out of the room, noting that while the rest of the gang appeared to have disappeared into Amy’s room, Jonathan, Xander, and Cordy had joined the vampire hunter in loitering in the corridor. "’Kay, who’s Vocah?"

"In the year of our lord 1745, a dark evil afflicted Somerset," Holtz began, "butchering boys and girls in the foulest of ways. As these murders were done in the daylight, so we knew vampires weren’t committing them. We did research on some demons and although it wasn’t Vocah, I recognise his symbol from the research, the sigil on your Watcher’s forearm," Faith glanced over her shoulder and at the flailing Englishman, "is his mark."

"’Kay," Faith turned back to the vampire hunter, "what’s the scoop?" The out of his time demon hunter stared blankly at her, Faith sighed. "Who’s Vocah?"

"Vocah is a warrior of the underworld, a creature of considerable powers." Holtz paused. "In addition to being a skilled fighter, he is also a practioner of the dark arts. It’s his sigil on the Watcher, but remove Vocah from this plane and his influence will die with him."

"That’s a plan I can get behind," Faith decided.

"Okay," Xander nodded. "Give me a minute and we’ll get the gang together."

"No," Faith shook her head. "Amy and Wes are helpless-."

"HE COMES! AND NONE CAN STAND IN HIS PATH!"

She started at Wes’ sudden scream. Man, you’d think he’d be hoarse by now. "They need protecting, the rest of you stand guard in case either Vocah or Ripper try anythin’. Danny," she glanced at the glowering 18^th century gentlemen, "and me will settle Vocah’s hide."

"Distract the nurse; I’ll check the computer for recent admittances."

His companion nodded as they strode into Sunnydale General’s brightly-lit reception area. "Sure."

The moment his companion had diverted the receptionist’s attention, he ducked behind the desk and started typing in his target’s name. "Psych ward?" his eyes widened. "I always thought he was wound tight, but no way?"

Hearing his companion returning, he grimaced and hurried out from behind the desk, grabbing the woman’s arm at the elbow as she and the receptionist turned the corner heading backing into the reception area. "Come dear," he flashed the elderly office worker his most charming smile, "they just called from the office, I know where he is."

The moment they were out of ear-range, his companion turned to him and glared. "Lose the grip."

"Sorry." He released the grip even as he wondered about touchy women. "He’s in the psychiatric ward."

"He is?" his companion looked bemused. "But what about her?"

"No mention," he replied. "My guess would be she’s dead, and her death caused some sort of breakdown. Either that or demon attack."

"Optimistic," his companion snarked. "Like that in a man."

* * *

"Slayer," Holtz growled as he stalked beside the sultry Colonial, her eyes smouldering with fire that threatened to engulf the hushed graveyard as they made their way through it, "the information you got will more than likely lead to a trap."

"Probably," the loose-limbed beauty grunted.

"Then perhaps it would be expedient-."

"You don’t wanna be here, don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out, but this prick thought he could hurt Wes, I failed one-, no-one gets away with that!"

"As you wish," Holtz shrugged. If nothing else, the girl had the virtue of loyalty, even if she allowed anger to cloud her reasoning.

Suddenly the brunette stopped. "That’s him ahead?"

Holtz glared through the encroaching darkness, finally focussing on a tall, hooded figure with broad shoulders and stood by a crypt. "It looks like the drawings I have seen." He looked towards the crypt, noting its slightly ajar door. "It’s a trap," he decided. "That crypt is like as not filled with vampires."

"You’ve got those two shotguns you grabbed before we left the house," Faith tersely replied. "You deal with ‘em. I’ll take Vocah out."

"Bu-." Before he had chance to comment the Slayer was streaking through the hushed graveyard, long mane flowing behind her. "Fool girl," he muttered as he turned towards the crypt.

* * *

"Hey asshole!"

Vocah had barely begun to turn in her direction when she left her feet in a chest-high dropkick that had him staggering but not falling. For her part Faith landed in a feet apart crouch, dropping into a deeper squat when her rival’s scythe slashed the air above her head.

Faith straightened into a heel kick to the belly that Vocah somehow slid inside, his scythe jabbing down, its blunt end crashing into her inner knee with the sort of force that broke normal human’s bones. Not Faith’s though, she just took the pain through gritted teeth and stepped into her rival, her elbow cracking up and into his neck before back-flipping out of his scythe’s range and spring-boarding off a gravestone to her left and into a roundhouse kick.

At least that was the theory. In fact Faith had to arch above a scythe swing then grunted in surprise when Vocah grabbed her ankle and power-threw her at the ground.

The moment her shoulders hit wet grass, she was rolling backwards and to her feet. "You hurt my Watcher mother-fucker," Faith snarled. "Last thing that did it died fast. If you’re lucky and don’t struggle too much, maybe you’ll go the same way."

Vocah didn’t answer, maybe he didn’t want to, maybe he couldn’t physically speak, Faith didn’t care much. All she knew was the silently watching demon had hurt one of the few people she’d let herself care about and no-one did that, not without paying a damn heavy price. Anger burned through her veins as she charged the demon, anger she forced down so not to allow it to control her, anger she honed into a cold determination to not allow this shit-head to stand in her way.

Vocah sidestepped her, boot coming up in a kick to her torso she blocked on her forearm. Ignoring the bruising pain, she spun into a spin thrust kick to the demon’s torso only for Vocah to lean backwards at the wait, her kick only pummelling mid-air.

Her right hand on the other hand, that grabbed the demon’s left calf and yanked it from under him, knocking the monster off balance. The moment her feet touched earth Faith shot out a thrust-kick that caught Vocah high on the shoulder, spinning him like a top.

Faith leapt in close again, hammering an elbow into the side of her enemy’s head before grabbing him around the waist, lifting him up, and dumping him on the ground. Her eyes widened as the demon swung up his scythe and dived into another back-flip that turned into a hand-spring that sent her somersaulting through the air, over the demon’s slicing scythe and landing behind him, her foot shooting out in a back-heel kick to the small of her rival’s back.

The demon stumbled to one knee. Before he could get up Faith drove her knee into the back of his knee, reached over him, grabbed the scythe that Holtz said was the only weapon known to kill Vocah, ripped it from the stunned demon’s hands and quickly decapitated him.

"Oh such a pretty fighter."

* * *

Wesley gasped as a light seemed to explode just front of his eyes. Blinking his eyes clear, he looked around, surprised to find himself in what appeared to be a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses. He looked down at his arms, bemused to find they were fastened to the bed’s side by velcroed restraints. "I say, what’s going on here!" he demanded indignantly.

"Mr. Whyndhm-Pryce-."

"Xander!" he caught sight of the grey-streaked youth in the doorway. "Tell these dozy buggers I’m alright!" His brow furrowed as he recalled the last thing he could remember. "Oh bloody hell, where’s Amy?"

"She’s in the next room," the young man strode in and somehow managed to persuade the medical personnel to leave. "But she’s coming around."

"Ah," Wesley heaved a relieved sigh. His eyes narrowed. "And Faith, where’s she?"

Xander shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Damn it, Xander. Where’s my Slayer!"

"Yeah," Wesley’s heart skipped a beat as he heard an uncomfortably familiar voice, one he’d hoped to never hear again, coming from the door, "I was wondering that, real careless that Wesley, losing your Slayer. What would dearest daddy say about that?"

* * *

Faith turned towards the speaker stood about fifty feet away, her lips parting in an unconscious approving smirk. "Not bad."

The honey-blonde was a couple of inches taller than her with locks that hung down just past her shoulder and liquid blue eyes. Real curvy too, all those curves accentuated by what was practically a stripper’s outfit of barely covering her ass pleated and red and black checked skirt, lycra ruffled white top that covered her boobs and nothing else, and checked tie that hung down to the babe’s belly-button. Finish that off with a pair of black nylon stockings and Faith was left with the distinct impression Sunnydale vampires were both sluttier and nuttier than the average undead. "Who the hell are you?"

The girl let out a high-pitched giggle that had chills running up and down Faith’s spine. "They call me Death’s Bitch," Faith tensed as the vampire raised a palm, wary but not that worried considering the distance between the two of them, "but you can call me Tara or ‘Please Don’t Hurt Me’."

"Shit!" Faith’s eyes widened as a cascade of white energy exploded out of the vampire’s hand. Instinct had her diving to the right. "Aaaaaaah!" Faith screamed as a scorching pain bombarded her right side from her shoulder down to her toes, twisting and contorting her frame as sweat cascaded down her body. "Jesus," she gasped as she looked up at the approaching vampire and apparent witch.

"Jesus isn’t here," the witch giggled, "just us bunnies."

"Aaaah," a groan escaped Faith as she saw Tara raise a hand and forced herself to roll not away but towards the witch, the blast of energy slicing through the air above her. Faith bounded up and caught the vampire with a left hook to the jaw that snapped her rival’s head to the side. Faith followed up with a right uppercut, the punch not quite full power thanks to the pain ravaging her side but still enough to snap the demon’s head back, then ducked under a retaliatory back-hand only to get a knee to the chest that turned her legs rubbery. "Owwww!" Faith grunted when the demon grabbed her by her flowing mane, any joke about only chicks pulling hair was forgotten when the crazy bitch yanked her upright and drove her fist into Faith’s throat.

The air roared in her ears and tears filled her eyes as she fell like a stone, the vampire kicking a field goal with her ribs before stamping on her face. Faith wheezed and gasped for air, barely moving as another energy bolt hit her, hitting her like a lightning bolt. Blood oozed from her nose and mouth, ears pounded as she contorted and writhed helplessly, the laughing witch stood over her.

* * *

Holtz sighed as he flung open his leather duster as the crypt doors was also thrown open, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he raised the shotguns. This was a godless time, but it had such wonderful weaponry to recommend it.

The guns bucked in his hands, the first two vampires out of the crypt hitting the ground with screams as he blew away their knees. His smile grew, let them scream, as he drew a bead on the next creature through the door and shot it in the chest, once he’d finished shooting them it would be a simple job to stake what was left.

The fourth and fifth took rounds in the knees, Holtz cackled as he stopped some twenty feet away from the crypt opening and waited. His world turned to blood red as Angelus leapt off the crypt roof and at him, his guns swinging up to catch the murderous demon high in the chest and shoulders, twisting him like a spinning top and depositing him in the ground in a moaning heap.

He started towards the demon, murder of his own on his mind. And then he saw the Slayer fall, the godless witch making the young girl scream and scream. "One day Angelus!" he promised as he spun away and charged to the girl’s aid, firing at her assailant as he ran.

"Aaaaah!" The female vampire screamed, his first shot shredding the honey blonde’s shoulder, the second taking her in the back as she staggered away.

"God, will you fail your servant now?" Holtz cursed as his next shot missed, cracking a gravestone to the retreating demon’s left, then his guns clicked empty. Stopping by the brunette’s writhing form he looked down and grimaced.

The young warrior’s beautiful features no longer looked like they’d been sculpted by a Michael-Angelo, more like a first year apprentice with no heart or understanding of the art. Her nose was flattened against her face, both eyes bludgeoned shut, and her jaw and left cheek hideously swollen, and even all that damage was hidden under a crimson mask, blood sticking to her face and hair as her ragged, torn clothes seemed to smoulder and her right arm hung unnaturally.

Holtz crouched and scooped up the Slayer, cradling the moaning girl in a similar manner to which he’d held Daniel Jr. and his sweet Sarah.

Holtz tried very hard not to think about that as he strode through the graveyard, ignoring the Slayer’s whimpers.

* * *

"Hey Wes."

Wesley forced his eyes open at the sound of his Slayer’s voice, orbs widening at her condition. The brunette bombshell was dressed in a hospital gown, her face battered and holding herself gingerly as she sat in a wheelchair pushed by Jonathan, Xander, and Holtz by her side. "Faith," he forced a smile, "I assume I have you to thank for my wakefulness."

"Holtz," the Slayer half-winced as she turned her head to look at the 18^th Century warrior, "helped."

"One could not hope to fight beside a truer warrior," Holtz commented. "She does you credit."

"Thank you," Wesley felt his smile becoming yet more forced. Really how much of who Faith was, was down to him? How much had he really changed from the uptight geek he’d been at the Academy?

Faith shot him a puzzled look before glancing up and towards Xander. "We need a new base."

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "I’ve got an idea on that."

"The pain!" the vampire screamed.

"Hush child," Ripper calmly stroked Tara’s hair, an excited fission at the damage done to his beautiful toy. It wouldn’t do for the wounds to be permanent of course, in no way did he wish for her to be impaired, but he did delight in the pain of others, it really added something to his day. "You’re a vampire, you’re strong. You will heal." He threw the torn top to the floor so that he could better ogle both her charms and wounds, the vampire shuddering submissively when he worked a finger into her shoulder wound. "Now why don’t you get yourself a human from the pen to build your strength up?"

"Can I?" Tara queried, a playfully coy look entering her eyes.

"As if I could ever resist you," he replied with a smile. "And then when you’ve fed, I want you to research a spell for me."

"A spell?" Tara’s eyes shone with excitement. "One interest the host and I share is learning new enchantments."

"Oh this spell’s a doozy," he smirked. "It’s called Nightshade."

* * *

Faith looked around the tension-filled hospital waiting room, the Nightstalkers, Holtz, and the mystery man and woman who’d just joined crammed into it, the only missing person that sleaze Parker Abrams. "So tell me again your plan?"

The man she was directing her gaze towards grimaced. "Sunday and her childes runs an abandoned frat house on the west end of UC. Sunnydale. There’s her and about seven childes."

"And why haven’t you dealt with these vampires before?" Wesley asked. Faith noted the Englishman kept his gaze averted from the two strangers and more weirdly her. Jesus, get your ass kicked saving a guy’s life, does he say thank you? Fuck no, he gives you the cold shoulder.

Fuck him, Faith forced the hurt down deep. It had been forty-eight hours since her fight with Vocah and Tara kicking her ass, her wounds were healed and now she was lookin’ forward to a rematch with Tara, and this time that bitch wouldn’t catch her by surprise.

"Hitler tried to fight a war on two fronts, look what happened to him," Xander replied to Wes’ question.

"A good point," Wesley conceded with a tight nod. "However we’ve only got a limited arsenal now."

"No we haven’t," Cordelia put in. "My parents left Sunnydale years ago," Faith wondered at the bitterness in the girl’s voice. "However I got daddy to sign his stables over to me, and there’s a false floor in the stables where we keep our back-up equipment."

"Nice thinking," Faith praised.

Xander looked around. "Cordy, can you take Gunn, Holtz, Larry, and Owen up there and get some supplies. Meet us at the High School."

* * *

"I really hate bein’ bait," Faith murmured as she slinked her way to the vampire den’s front door, clad in her favourite black leather pants and two buttons open at the top and tied off at the bottom so plenty of midsection was showing black blouse. Unfortunately it made sense for the plan. The vamps, dumb sons of bitches that they were, were always gonna be more interested in helpin’ a nice piece of ass rather than a guy. And it wasn’t as if Harmony or Cor could handle themselves like she could. Tho’ Harmony’s dumb ditz act blew hers away.

Reaching the front door she let out a rattling sigh and knocked, putting her most winning smile in place and leaning forward slightly so the lucky demon who answered got an eyeful of the babies. "Yeah?" the grumpy growl turned to a full-grown leer when the door swung open and a gangly six-footer with the worse case of acne and pock-marking ever seen looked down her cleavage.

Jesus, Sunday was no Rhodes scholar if she turned this ugly mother-fucker.

Faith hid her distaste behind a gleaming smile. "Hey!" she trilled, channelling Harmony as much as possible. Hey, when tryin’ to be a bimbo, aim low. "My car broke down just outside here," she shot a thumb over her shoulder while fluttering her eyelashes, "can I come in and phone for a mechanic."

"Well sure baby," the demon grinned back at her, pulling the door further open, "why don’t -."

"Thanks," Faith swung her foot up and between the demon’s legs, smirking viciously as the vampire doubled up, easy victim to her stake through the back. "HEY!" Faith let out a bellow as she stepped through the exploding vampire and into the grotty frat house. "It’s the Avon Lady, I gotta your samples!"

The door at the hallway’s far end burst open and a pair of stocky vampires charged out. Faith leapt into the air, flowing into a double drop-kick to the faces that took both demons down. Faith landed on top of the pair in a crouch, her stake jamming down into the right one’s chest.

Even as he burst into dust, Faith began turning towards the other, only to be forced into a backwards at the waist sway away from a knee to the face from the now standing vampire. Powering up through her thighs, she leapt at the snarling vampire, grabbing it around the waist and pulling it to the ground. Faith grunted as its hands hammered down on her back, but ignored the pain to leap up its body to straddle its chest, drive a left into its face and the stake into its heart.

Then she was up and striding through into the lounge. The gang had already cleared it of vamps, dust and glass on the floor, the furniture over-turned. "Faith, you and Gunn come with me to check upstairs," Xander instructed. "Holtz, I want you, Wesley, and Cordy to check out the rest of the ground floor levels. Until we’re sure there’s no-one else left, I don’t want anyone going anywhere alone."

* * *

"Boss, we got a human who wants to join up with us."

"A human?" Ripper raised an eyebrow as he idly stroked Joy-Joy’s bloodied back, the Slayer’s mother now vampire whimpering after his brutal beating. While they used Wanna-Bes to run errands for them during the day, it was unusual for a human to actively seek them out. "And what does he want?"

"He says he was rescued from three of us a few nights ago by the Slayer, says he knows where the Nightstalkers are making their new base," Penn reported.

"Well," he purred as he pushed Joy-Joy off his knee and to the floor, "that is interesting. Bring him in. You," he looked down at the sprawled woman, "go to Tara. Tell her I was interrupted during our ‘fun-time’, she’ll know what to do."

"Yes Ripper." Joy-Joy nodded meekly before rising and rushing out.

The door had barely closed behind the last reminder of his wasted time as a Watcher when it opened again and Penn walked in, pushing a tall, brown-haired boy in his late teens before him. "This is Parker Abrams," Penn introduced before backing out of the room.

"Parker is it?" Ripper nodded sagely before supping at his goblet of wine. He didn’t need the drink of course, he got no refreshment from it. But with his enhanced taste and smell it was the closest to heaven he’d ever more than likely reach. "And what information do you have for me?"

Parker licked his lips, Ripper’s senses noting the sweat beginning to bead on the boy’s forehead as he shuffled from foot to foot. "Everyone knows you’re the power around here, the big cheese," the boy babbled, "well I want in. I’ve always wanted to be a player, power, girls, that sorta thing."

The brat wanted to make a deal? Ripper almost tore the little twit’s head off right there and then. Instead he allowed his eyes to flash golden and his tone to harden to stone. "I may be immortal, but my patience isn’t. I’m a vampire who likes his fun, I can have it either hunting the Slayer bitch down, or ripping the information from your screaming carcass." He rose. "Talk."

The boy flinched, curling up into himself as he shook. "S…sure," the boy nodded, "i…it was Xander’s idea, there’s a frat-house on the west side of UC Sunnydale, run by a vampire called Sunday."

"Ah yes," Ripper nodded. A minor player in Sunnydale, and one he’d planned to sweep up once the Nightstalkers were dealt with.

"Well they were gonna wipe her out tonight, take over her base."

"Were they indeed?" Ripper laughed softly, golden orbs shining as a plan formed. This could be most interesting. A vampire den that the new tenants didn’t own, meaning the laws of invitation no longer stood. Oh the possibilities, his mouth watered with them.

Ripper glanced towards the trembling youth. "Thank you for your information and as for your payment." He blurred forward, grabbed the youth by the hair and twisted, the boy’s neck audibly snapping. He chuckled as he released his grip, the boy falling limply to the ground. "The cheque’s in the post."

* * *

Faith knocked on the door of the room that Wes had snagged as his own. "Hey," she spoke through the wood when Wesley failed to answer, "we haven’t done any training in like days. Get your ass into gear."

After a few seconds the door opened a crack, Wesley glaring through the gap at her. "You’re more than capable of training yourself."

Faith’s eyes narrowed, she was gettin’ real tired of gettin’ the brush-off off of her Watcher. He was always babblin’ on ‘bout them bein’ a team, where was the fuckin’ team now? "Yeah?" she placed a hand on the door and shoved it open before stepping into the room and into Wes’ space. "Sure I can, but you’re my Watcher," she emphasised the point with a finger-jab to the Englishman’s chest "supervising me is your job, dig?"

"Oh yes, I dig." The Englishman didn’t flinch at her anger, rather his eyes filled with irritation. "However it’s rather pointless isn’t it? You don’t have to obey me, the Council is gone, I have no authority over you."

"No authority?" Faith’s brow furrowed in confusion. What the fuck was Wes talkin’ ‘bout? If he was smokin’ some good shit, he really should be sharing it around. "This ain’t ‘bout authority, least I didn’t think it was. I thought we were a team."

"We’re a team," the man smiled weakly, "for as long as you deem me expedient and useful. Once I’ve outlasted my usefulness, doubtless you’ll move on to more effective hunters."

Faith stared at the Watcher as she tried and failed to make sense of what he was saying. Finally she shrugged and went for blunt. "What the fuck are you on, Wes? Is this ‘bout Holtz? ‘Cause there’s no way I’m dumpin’ you for that grumpy bastard even if he did save my bacon!"

"Holtz?" Wesley shook his head. "No, it’s Robin."

"Nottingham?" Faith shook her head as she considered the black man who’d arrived with Justine Cooper, a hunter from LA. All in all, the guy had a studly body but a personality that’d make cardboard look interesting. "What about him?"

"He’s the son of a Slayer-."

"Say what!!!" Faith exclaimed before taking half a back-step. Kids weren’t her, but the idea of a Slayer being a mom was wow.

"His mother got pregnant at age 14 and had him in 1970 before she was Called. She was Called in 1974, just after her eighteenth birthday, quite the freak event apparently, and died in 1977 at the hands of an unknown vampire." Wesley paused. "Because of his ‘celebrity’ in Watcher circles, he was allowed into the academy the same year I joined, despite being two years younger. Despite his youth, Robin always was better at the physical side of Watcher training."

Oh, Faith kinda got it now. "So what if he’s better at the physical stuff?" she soothed. "I need you for your brain anyhow, and I spent three years gettin’ you trained so you’re just the way I want ya." Her grin was met by a blank stare. "Jesus, Wes, all the shit you said ‘bout me and you bein’ more than Slayer and Watcher, it’s just bullshit ain’t it!"

"Faith-."

"Ah, go fuck yourself!" Spinning on her heel, she stormed off.

* * *

"Faith-." Wesley shook his head as the sultry beauty stalked away. He knew he should go after her, but these days it seemed as if his motivation wasn’t there. He just didn’t care anymore. What was the point of caring when you were about to lose everything you cared about anyway?

"You are a fool."

Wesley sighed as Holtz stepped out of the shadows at the corridors’ far end. "I don’t have time-."

"One always has time for the truth," the vampire-hunter interrupted. "That girl has a rough manner, but her heart bled for you when you were entranced. She might conduct herself as a harlot, but her heart is that of a warrior. She may not say it in her woods, but she esteems you in her actions." With that, the eighteenth century man stalked off in the direction the Slayer had fled.

Wesley shook his head. "I wish I could believe that," he whispered.

* * *

Faith scowled as she tried her Tai Chi, only speeding up to roughly about five times as fast as a mediating person would do it, using it as a fighting art rather than the relaxation tool it really was. Sweat gleamed on her as she continued, breathing easily despite the long minutes she’d been training.

"Hey, your technique looks a little bit off, I guess Wes didn’t teach it you right, huh?"

Faith flowed to a halt before turning towards the speaker, her eyes narrowed at the perceived insult to her Watcher. "Honey, if I gave you marks on your ‘technique’, you’d just about die of embarrassment."

Wood grinned, unfazed by her putdown. "I don’t embarrass easily." Wood replied before turning serious. "I always wanted to meet a Slayer, see if they were as fierce as I remembered."

"Now we’ve had this conversation, you have," Faith began to turn back to training.

"Always wanted to be a Watcher for one too, seems that’s unlikely now, unless you know someone who might wanna switch over."

Oh he just to bring it out into the open. "Yeah?" Faith turned towards the black man, flashing him an insincere but gleaming smile. "Figure you’re all that do you?"

Wood shrugged and returned her smile with one of his own. "Figure I’m better than what you’ve got." The demon hunter’s eyes travelled her body before returning to her eyes. "Yeah, I like what I see. But with me on team, it could go so much better."

"I got a Watcher," Faith replied. "And he ain’t second to no-one, and I hear anyone talking shit to or ‘bout him, I put them down fast and hard, you dig?"

Wood blanched at her hard tone. "I dig."

"Good, now get the fuck outta my sight, I got trainin’ to do."

* * *

"So you’re Jay-Don?"

"That I am," his guest nodded. "And you’re like the big cheese around here?"

"The cheesiest," Ripper agreed with a smile. His guest was a powerfully built man of above average height, with combed back black hair and expensive sunglasses, a cocksure smirk seemingly stuck on his face. The man was garishly dressed, his suit obviously custom-made, but the jacket and pants’ superior cut ruined by the eye-blinding yellow they were made of. "Thank you for making it here promptly."

"Yeah." The man chewed at some imaginary gum in his mouth as he nodded. "One thing you learn growing up in the mob is the chain of command. What’s cookin’ good lookin’?"

Jay-Don might not look like much, and had been turned barely half a century ago. But his blood-splattered past as a button-man for Bugsy Siegel made him uniquely equipped to become an efficiently murderous vampire, one whose reputation preceded him and had spread far beyond Nevada’s sandy borders. "What’s cookin’ is a rather irritating Slayer," he replied. "She’s been a thorn in my side for rather too long and I’m planning an expulsion."

"Expulsion hey, I did a few of those back in the day for Bugsy," Jay-Don fiddled with his sleeves before looking up at him, "I’m like your man for the job, boss."

"I’m glad to hear it," Giles nodded. With Jay-Don, James, and Elizabeth’s addition to his forces, he had more than replaced the Masters he had lost to the Nightstalkers, and soon it would be time to strike back, and wipe them out completely. "Now be a good chap and go into the club, I’m sure you can find something to play with in our pen."

"Thanks man, you’re a real gem."

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