Tulsa, Oklahoma

The blood tasted glorious, bubbling over her lips and into her mouth, filling her with an ecstasy that only the carnal skill of her dear Angelus could come close to matching. Darla heard the heartbeat of the young man she’d tempted into the alley wane and die as she drained him, the youth’s struggles pathetically futile against a demon of her age and power.

Then she sensed something indefinable in the alley’s far end. Teeth bloody red and eyes a golden yellow; she spun to face the intruder, angered that her feeding had been intruded on. "Luke," she hissed hatefully as she recognised the formidably-built vampire.

"The Master requires you return with me to Sunnydale," the powerhouse sniffed.

"Ha!" Darla hissed disdainfully. "Perhaps you are not the competent servant you think you are?"

Luke’s eyes glittered but he did not otherwise react to her taunt. "The Master is aware of your estrangement from Angelus," Darla’s eyes hardened as she recalled the arguments between the two of them about him and his countless lovers. If ever there was a vampire who took advantage of his celebrity, it was her Irishman. "And wishes to offer you a place back at his side."

Darla forced a smile even as she felt a bitterness at the back of her throat that the blood she’d just consumed couldn’t hope to match. Luke left unsaid the certainty that a refusal would only end in the Master sending assassins, perhaps even The Three, after her. He’d have no choice, the refusal would be too big of a blow to his ego for him to ignore, if he did so his reputation would be irrevocably damaged. "It will be an honour."

* * *

"You can go in."

Giles looked up at the secretary’s dry voice, the elderly woman peering at him from over the top of her horn-rimmed glass. "Thank you." Ignoring his heart’s fluttering and resisting the temptation to wipe his sweaty palms off on his tweed pants, he rose and walked through the wood-panelled door to the right of the secretary.

The gloomily-lit room beyond was long and narrow; the room’s four walls were adorned with portraits of stiffly-proper men who all stared down disapprovingly at him. As well they might, he was after all the scoundrel who’d at one point walked out on his calling, using his skills for debauchery and violence on a seedily grubby stage.

"Please," the man sat centre of the quintet sat at the long table at the far end of the room spoke, "take a seat."

"Thank you."

A long silence followed his seating. "The seers have found a potential in," Travers looked down at his notes, "Boston. Given the fact she’s now fourteen, it’s unlikely she’ll be Called," Travers chuckled darkly, "the Council’s betting pool have Kendra Young and Kennedy Lucas as front-runners to be the next Slayers."

"One wonders about the morality on betting on such a thing."

Giles clamped his mouth shut at Travers’ glare. It didn’t matter how old he got, he still managed to put his foot in it. "The young ‘lady’, and I use the word in its very loosest sense, has quite a reputation – arrests for shop-lifting, vandalism, and under-age drinking." Travers smirked at him. "She’s quite the hellion."

Ah, Giles got it now. He’d initially been bemused, elated but very bemused, to hear he was to be given a potential. Not only had he his own bad reputation to consider, but there was a long history of Travers antipathy towards the Giles’, some old grudge that no-one remembered. This girl was a poisoned chalice, a girl who while probably causing him no end of trouble and probably never being Called, would also transport him across the pond and far out of Travers’ hair. "I assume," he kept his face bland, "this young lady has a name?"

"Yes," Travers glanced down at his file, "Faith Lehane. An unusual name."

"Lehane is Gallic for ‘grey’, I believe," Giles commented.

"Yes," Travers looked like he couldn’t care less. But then Travers was hardly known for his warm heart. "You have forty-eight hours to organise your affairs. We’ve organised a ticket to America for you, the girl’s adoption, and a stipend to cover her care until she turns eighteen. By then she’ll be too old to be Chosen anyhow."

And then, if she’d not been condemned to a life filled with unimaginable horrors and concluding in a far too early death, she’d be cast aside as useless, forgotten. What a bloody system, no wonder he’d rebelled.

Forcing his distaste from his face, he rose with a nod. "If that’s all sir, please could I have the file so I can get to work packing?"

* * *

Jamaica

Samuel nodded approvingly as he watched his Kendra practice. The sun blazed down on his charge, bathing her in sweat. Yet despite the flagging heat the dark-skinned

beauty continued doggedly on, moving flawlessly through the katas he had taught her, no matter the effort.

When and if she was Chosen, she’d be ready.

* * *

"This is the third time this month you’ve been caught out after curfew!" snapped the home’s administrator. "Have you anything to say in your defence?"

"Yeah," Faith stared rebelliously at the portly man sat opposite her; her slouched posture and couldn’t give a shit air just more examples of her defiance. "If you bought us better sneakers those pigs would never have caught me. My left sole split, I was practically hoppin’ home!"

The man’s piggish face reddened. "You ungrateful brat. All the hard work we put into looking after you, if this was a couple of decades ago I’d teach you-." The man shook his head, grey eyes glinting spitefully. "Well you’re off our books now. Some idiot has been approved as your legal guardian-."

"Say what?" Faith straightened, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I’ve not had any interviews or shit?" Somethin’ stunk, and for once it wasn’t just the home’s administrator.

"Interviews?" the civil servant chortled. "One conversation with your gutter mouth and any-one would be running for the hills." The man shook his head. "Well the papers have been signed. And I can finally wash my hands on you." The administrator pressed on the intercom. "Send Mr. Giles in."

The man who entered wasn’t at all what Faith expected. Instead of some leering sleaze who’d seen a pretty face in a file and decided he wanted a piece of it, the man was tall and lean, with an educated air about him. Almost like one of those Arthurian knights she’d most definitely never admit to reading about. "Hello Ms. Lehane," Faith blinked, another surprise, the dude was English. "My name is Rupert Giles, I’m an employee of an international charity for the care of troubled teens."

Sounded like a sweet set-up for kiddie fiddlers to her. On the other hand, there was a chance, a slight one, that this guy was on the level. And even if she wasn’t, she’d just about burnt her bridges at this shit-hole, and she could look after herself. If the guy wanted her to do stuff she didn’t do, she’d just run away. Faith stood. "We ready?"

The Englishman blinked. "Don’t you have bags or anything?"

"I travel light," Faith replied.

"Very well, I imagine we can go," the Englishman’s face fell, "shopping tomorrow. Come along."

Come along, she felt like a freakin’ dog.

* * *

Wesley hurried out of the library archives, the texts piled up above eye-level, and the archives’ dry mustiness clogging his throat. His training had finished four months ago and he’d been assigned to the library staff, his current assignment a fascinating paper detailing the bloodlines of the major vampires. It would take him years to complete but would hopefully become revered in academic circles.

"Ooooof!" he gasped as he turned a corner, someone crashing into him and knocking him on his backside, papers falling everywhere.

"Ah hell," the powerfully-built black he’d crashed into grabbed him by his forearms and pulled him up to his feet. "I’m sorry."

"Oh don’t mention it," Wesley replied as he crouched and began picking up the books strewn across the floor. "I couldn’t see where I was going, entirely my fault. Who are you?" Wesley asked as the shaven-headed black man helped him pick up his texts.

"Robin Wood," the obvious African-American shot him a gleaming smile.

"Oh," Wesley stared open-mouthed at the man. The Council was afire with whispers of the new apprentice Watcher, the actual son of a Slayer. Somehow, he doubted there wasn’t any other apprentice Watcher with as many eyes on him, expecting him to fail. It was almost as if he was a Giles, Travers, Post, or Whnyndhm-Pryce.

* * *

"This is our house," the Englishman shot her a nervous look, "our home."

The house almost took her breath away. It wasn’t anything special, no mansion or Englishman’s castle, just a simple two up and two down. But even so, it was the sort of place that other people lived in, not her. There were no broken or dirty windows, no crumbling brickwork, or tiles missing from the roof, and most of all no air of dereliction surrounding it. And, her host was different than she’d expected, no faked attempts to get her confidence, to learn about her. Instead the Englishman seemed even more ill at ease with their arrangement than she was.

She suddenly realised the Englishman was looking expectantly at her. Probably wanting her to tell him what a palace it was. Screw that, she wasn’t gonna make it easy for him, gush with praise and shit. "Wanna go in?"

"Of course," the man’s face dropped slightly, but quickly recovered his English reverse.

The hallway was painted a nauseatingly bland yellow. "Your bedroom is upstairs, would you like to see it?"

Faith tried to look as nonchalant as possible. "I guess."

"Excellent," the man half-smiled before starting up the hallways’ carpeted steps. The man led them into a cream-white wallpapered and carpeted room with a made-up bed in the centre, a wardrobe and chest of drawers at its foot, and a desk and chair by the window. "I know it looks bland now, but as I said we’ll go shopping tomorrow, I imagine you’ll want an idiot box, " Giles sighed wearily, "and some sort of Hi Fi." Faith stared incredulously at the Englishman, a TV and a stereo system? Even if she had to put out occasionally this was beginning to sound like a pretty sweet deal. "Perhaps one of those blo-, computers to help you with school."

"I don’t do school," Faith snapped.

She swallowed inwardly when the Englishman’s eyes flashed. "You do now," he firmly replied. "And there’s no argument, you’ll be starting at a new school on Monday and you will get your high school diploma." The light in the man’s eyes dimmed and his tone softened. "I imagine you’ll want to put up some posters of pop stars or something to make it feel more at home. That’ll be fine." Giles stared at her. When all she did was stare back, he sighed, shoulders slouching slightly. "Well if you need me, you only have to call." The Englishman turned to the doorway.

For some unknown reason Faith felt compelled to throw the Brit a bone. "I like Motley Crue and Skid Row."

"Motley Crue, Skid Row," the Englishman sniffed and shook his head. "What edifying names for rock bands. Good night, Faith."

* * *

"No! You can’t! Get off of me!"

"What the bloody hell," Giles grunted as he heard Faith screaming, the young teen’s voice filled with horror. Leaping to his feet, he hurried out of his room and into the potential’s room, flipping on the light as he did so. His eyes alighted on the girl thrashing wildly in the bed. "A nightmare," he muttered as he stepped towards the distressed child, "Faith are you-."

The girl awoke the moment his hand fell onto her arm, shooting up even as her other hand flashed beneath her pillow. Giles’ eyes widened as the raven-haired girl leapt up with a speed that a Slayer would have envied and flashed a switchblade in his face. "Back off English!"

Giles raised his palms. "Calm down, young lady," he placated, noting the tears streaked down her cheeks. "You were having a nightmare and crying, I only came in to check-."

"I don’t cry!" the potential snapped. "Now get out!"

Giles opened his mouth then nodded reluctantly, realising there was little he could do that wouldn’t escalate the situation, he backed out of the room, the young girl petulantly slamming the door shut behind him. "Oh Faith," Giles’ heart bled when he heard the girl dragging her desk behind the door.

This was going to be even harder than he’d imagined.

L.A.

"Jack, what the hell!" Charles gasped as his former friend’s face suddenly warped into something horrific, eyes yellow, forehead ridged, and teeth somehow elongated. Before he had chance to register the change, his friend was lunging at him.

"No!" Gunn brought his arms in time, blocking Jack from sinking his fangs into his neck although the collision drove him down on to his ass. Gunn threw himself out of the way of a boot to the head, grabbing his attacker’s foot and shoving him away.

By the time Gunn got to his feet his attacker was already charging him, rocking him with blow after blow, punches far more powerful than any Jack had ever managed before. Eventually Gunn fell to one knee, blood leaking from a cut above his left eye and bottom lip, both eyes already swelling up.

His attacker grabbed his collar and started to pull him up to his feet, Gunn tried to pull away but his adversary’s grip was inescapable, so Gunn scrabbled half-blind in the dust for anything he could to use as a weapon. His fingers rested on something wooden, grabbing it, he thrust up, eyes widening as the makeshift weapon thrust through the man’s chest. He’d killed someone -.

And then ‘Jack’ burst into ash.

Wood through the heart? Exploding into dust? Gunn’s forehead furrowed as the two improbable yet inescapable facts connected, vampires existed?

* * *

Giles looked around the shiny, gleaming mall with barely contained revulsion. American malls, there was nothing more disgusting in their drab, unthinking conformity.

"Where we going first?"

By contrast his charge was looking around with barely concealed eagerness. Giles glanced at her, the Council had given him funds to feed, house, and clothe the girl, but in his estimation children needed more. God knew he’d make a lousy parent or guardian, but he had to try, and part of having a child meant trying your best to give them things that made them happy. As a result, he’d decided to supplement the Council’s stipend with his own money. Unlike his reluctant companion it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it.

His eyes narrowed as he noticed a very familiar and very unwelcome figure stood by a hot-dog stand watching him and his charge, a characteristic smirk on his face. "There’s a record store to the left," Giles pulled his wallet out and shoved a wad of crinkled notes at the young teen, "here’s a hundred dollars, I imagine you’ll want to buy some music. You go there, I’ll meet you there in a few minutes."

"Yeah," Faith stared at him, eyes widening with disbelief before snatching the money from him, "five by five."

Giles watched the young brunette run off, an ache in his heart as he recalled the child’s nightmares of the previous night. What had caused such horror, such pain? "God," he shook his head, ever since he’d returned to the Council after his rebellion, he’d hoped to be a Slayer’s Watcher, but now that ambition seemed paltry next to the happiness and life of a wounded child.

His eyes hardened as he strode towards the smirking pest from his past. "Rupert," the man’s smirk turned to a smile. "How pleasant it is-."

"Come with me," he grabbed the man’s arm at the bicep and pulled him towards a stairwell, kicking open the door. "What the bloody hell-."

"Rupert, Rupert," Ethan smirked, ignoring their drab surroundings. "I thought you’d be pleased to see me. And congratulations on your promotion to Field Watcher of a potential. And what a pretty little thing they gave you to watch over. If you ever nee-."

Giles’ forehead slammed into his former friend’s nose, knocking him against the dirty wall, blood pouring down his face. Giles followed up with a right to Ethan’s gut before his country-man had chance to recover, the wheezing man doubling up, a follow-up left hook cracking into his jaw, blood exploding out of his mouth. Giles nimbly sidestepped the Chaos Mage’s attempted charge, grabbing his collar and flinging him into the far wall. Giles watched as Ethan attempted to drag himself straight on the wall then sunk a hook into the man’s kidneys. "Oh god," Ethan grunted as he slid down the wall to his knees. "Bloody hell, Ripper. I didn’t realise you were so territorial about your chit-."

Giles slammed a kick into Ethan’s ribs, doubling the bastard up. Rayne had always been rather talented at causing fights, less so at actually fighting them. Giles forced his emotions under control as he crouched before the curled up, wheezing man. "Don’t let me ever see you again. And don’t ever come near her."

* * *

"Hey."

"Hey." Willow nodded, noting the unusually sombre look on her best friend’s face as she stepped out of her house and started down the street. "H…has there been no news yet?"

"No," Xander shook his head, eyes casting down to the dirty grey pavement, "Sandra’s the third to disappear out of school this year."

"I know," Willow sighed. "Where do they all go?"

Xander looked up, eyes flashing around as they crossed over into the park they always short-cutted through on the way to Jesse’s house. "I don’t know, but one day I’ll find out."

* * *

Giles licked his lips as he sat opposite his charge. The ordeal at the mall had taken all morning and most of the afternoon, supplying the young girl with all manner of clothing, make-up, CDs, and various other accessories. However the bookshelves he’d so carefully put up yesterday morning were apparently going to stay empty despite his best efforts to interest the young girl in literature.

However, he had a far bigger problem to deal with. "Tell me Faith," the girl looked up from her T-Bone steak, the girl practically vacuumed food into her gob, "have you had any interest in the supernatural?"

The girl looked up at him, eyes puzzled. "No." And then dipped back into her plate, shovelling forkfuls of chips into her trap.

Giles swallowed. Bloody hell, this was hard work. "The charity that I profess to work with is a front-."

The brunette’s chair screeched back as the girl rose, a look of betrayed anger on her face. "I fuckin’ knew, ya son of a bitch, I knew it was some sort of bastard trick! Well screw ya, ya goddamn asshole-."

"Please! Please!" the girl had a mouth on her that a fifty year old sailor would be ashamed to call his own. "Allow me to explain." Giles swallowed as the girl continued to stare daggers at him. "I represent an organisation called The Council Of Watchers who strive to defend the world from monsters with the aid of a teen girl called the Vampire Slayer. You may one day be that girl." Giles raised a hand as Faith’s mouth opened. "Before you start telling me exactly what planet I’m from, you have a birthmark of a cross on your hip, don’t you? That mark is uncommon and restricted to potentials."

"How did ya know?" the potential shook her head. "Fuck that. It’ll be in my adoption records, identifying marks. Don’t prove anything!"

"Very well," Giles looked at the young girl, unable to prevent a smile. She was hard work, but despite her disinterest in learning, she had a sharp if undisciplined mind. "Then how would I know about your dreams of girls fighting monsters?" The Bostonian sat bolt-upright. "Those are also common to potentials."

Faith stared at him. "This is bullshit-."

"I assure you this is far from bullshit," Giles continued. "Those girls you dreamed of are Slayers from the past. I assume these dreams also covered a variety of cultures and times?"

"Yeah," Faith nodded slowly, "white, brown, black and yeller, all sorts of clothes too." The teen paused. "So I’m gonna be a super-hero?"

Giles noticed with disquiet the excitement in the young girl’s eyes. Of course she who’d never had power would crave it, without thinking of its attendant responsibilities and dangers. Telling himself that there would be time enough to educate the child to those problems later, he replied. "It’s a little more complicated than that," he tried to explain. "There’s girls all around the world who may be Called to become Slayers."

"How’s the Slayer chosen?" Faith asked.

"An enquiring mind is always a sign of a keen intellect."

"Eh?" the brunette looked puzzled.

"Never mind," Giles returned to the subject at hand. "The truth is, we don’t know-."

"I thought you were in charge of these Slayers?" Faith queried.

Like a budding to attractiveness bulldog with a bone, she bloody was. "How the Slayer line was created is shrouded in the mists of time." Seeing the Bostonian’s continuing puzzled expression, he clarified. "It happened so long ago no record of how the first Slayer was created remains, nor do we have any real idea how the next is Chosen, only that all are girls between thirteen and eighteen." Giles smiled. "And before you ask, we’ve no idea why only girls are Called."

"And when is one chosen?" Faith queried.

Damn, just the bloody question he didn’t want her to ask. "The Slayer spirit as we call it passes from a Slayer to a potential, upon the Slayer’s death."

"Right," Faith looked thoughtful, "and what powers do a Slayer have?"

"Super-strength, super-speed, super agility and balance, increased healing, an instinctive prowess with weapons, and increased senses."

"Very cool," the child’s eyes were dazzling in their sparkle. "Do I have to wear a costume?"

Giles hid a smile. "I’m sure denims and leathers would be an acceptable outfit."

"And you’re a Watcher, right?" Faith jabbed a finger at her. "What does a Watcher do?"

"Ah, to that," Giles pursed his lips together. "A Watcher’s duties include the researching of a Slayer’s enemies and recording their exploits. In addition to training them to fight."

Faith snorted. "You? You know how to fight?"

Giles bristled inwardly at the derision in the young girl’s voice. Ask bloody Ethan if he could fight. "My father was determined that I be the best Watcher possible. In addition to employing the best available occultists and demonologists to be my tutors, he also employed a former amateur national boxing champion, a martial arts instructor, and a para to train me."

"Right." Faith stared at him through half-lidded, still sceptical eyes. "This training, when will we do it?"

"Until and if you’re Chosen, I don’t see any point in doing more than a couple of hours three to four evenings a week." All the best books indicated that any sort of vigorous exercise done more frequently would only open up the exerciser up to all sort of problems, including over-training, injuries, and even a possibly diminished immune system.

"No Fridays or Saturday nights," the potential bargained.

"Very well." Giles couldn’t help but chuckle at the teen’s fiercely held independence. "Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday it is." The child began to smirk. "But such training won’t be allowed to interfere with your studies." The potential’s dark eyes fired in indignation, her curved lips opening in protest. "And let’s not have any argument about it shall we?"

* * *

"Have you any more questions, Mr. McDonald?"

Lindsey shook his head respectfully. "Only one, Mr. Manners. When will you let me know if I’ve got the job?"

"I don’t think we need keep you waiting." Mr. Manners glanced at the two smartly-dressed men sat with him in the panel. Both men nodded, Manners’ gaze returned to him. "You finished in the top five percent of your class, your references are exemplary, and you did very well in the aptitude tests." Mr. Manners smiled. "We’ll confirm in writing within the next 72 hours but I’m very happy to offer you the post."

Lindsey beamed. He’d got it, all those student loans were made worthwhile, a place at the world’s most prominent law firm. "Thank you sir." His smile broadened, a little research had enabled him to find just how reprehensible W&H’s practices and client list were, but so what, the world was spelt M-O-N-E-Y.

"Our starting salary is best described as highly competitive," Holland smiled. "As for the pension, health care, and fringe benefits, well they’re," the man paused, smile widening, "out of this world."

The Pentagon, November ‘96

"Dr. Walsh, your numerous areas of expertise are well-documented," the middle of the trio of generals that made up the over-sight panel looked down at his notes, "degrees in psychology, biology, anatomy, behaviour modification, and cybernetics." The portly, balding soldier smiled thinly. "Your credentials to run your proposed program are unquestioned."

"Thank you, sir," Walsh replied, hiding her contempt for her intellectual inferiors behind a smile.

"However," the tall, burly man sat at the right of the panel, "we’re a little puzzled for your choice of Sunnydale as the base for your Initiative?"

"Yes," Walsh nodded. "The city has two advantages to it. One, its out of the way, and has no major press outlets – written, radio, or tv. However, most importantly it seems to be a magnet for demonic activity, apparently having a ratio of demonic occurrences far in excess of what normally would be found in a city of its size."

"What’s the reason for this increased ratio?" queried the left of the three generals.

"That’s one of the many things I intend to discover," Walsh replied

Walsh was forced to wait more or less patiently as the trio of mental midgets discussed her proposal between themselves. Finally their leader nodded. "Very well Dr. Walsh, please put together a proposal regarding equipment, funding, and personnel in time for our next meeting in six months time. If you satisfy us at that time, we’ll begin putting your plan into operation."

* ` * *

Christmas ‘96

"May I come in?"

Faith looked up from under her sheets at the knocking on her door, eyes suspicious. She’d been living with the Watcher for five months now and to be honest it was a pretty sweet deal, the guy gave her money for stuff, and in return all she had to do was train, study, and be in by a certain hour. But maybe today was the day he wanted more. "What do ya want?"

"Well it’s Christmas morning," the Englishman cautiously replied. "Don’t you want your presents?"

Presents? Faith’s head furrowed as she threw off her sheets and sat on the side of her bed. All her life she’d never had Christmas presents, or any kind of presents, her mom had always more important things to spend her money on – drink, drugs, and cigs mostly. "Um," she licked her lips, "come in I guess."

The Englishman strode in, Faith’s eyes widening at the colourfully-wrapped parcels stacked in the Watcher’s arms. "Huh," Faith shrugged, for once self-conscious, "I didn’t get you anythin’."

"Quite alright dear," Giles put the parcels on the bed beside her, "it’s a parent’s joyful responsibility to provide for their child not vice versa."

Parent? Faith stared at the Englishman, did he really think of her in that way? She’d never had anyone want to be her parent before.

Completely baffled by this turn of events, Faith hid her confusion by turning to her parcels and ripping open the top parcel. "One of those denim wife-beaters you like so much," Giles barely managed to keep the sniff out of his voice.

"Yeah, thanks," Faith tore at the next parcel, grinning slightly at the games console sat there. "A playstation, wicked!"

Giles smiled slightly at her reaction. "I’m given to believe everyone has one. I got you a racing, a flying, and a fighting game to go with it."

"Thanks," Faith nodded at the Englishman, more and more confused. The next parcel was a selection of half a dozen graphic novels.

"I know you’re not one for reading," Giles stuck his hands in his pockets, suddenly discomforted, "but I thought you might enjoy those. They’re colourful if nothing else."

"Yeah," Faith nodded, "I used to read the guys’ comics in the homes. Thanks." Faith tore into the next present to find a crucifix on a chain.

"If you’re ever called, it might cause a vampire to hesitate," the Watcher commented, his eyes grave. "And here’s your last present," the middle-aged man passed her a thin envelope.

Faith couldn’t help but smirk when she tore it open. "Two tickets to Megadeath in April, cool!"

"Yes, I’m aware of your admiration for that band," Giles pulled out another two parcels.

"I thought ya said that I’d had my last present?" Faith raised a speculative eyebrow.

"Well you have," Giles shrugged, a crimson rising in his cheeks. "However my father was determined that his grand-daughter should not go without."

"Grand-daughter?" Faith gulped as she took the two parcels. It sounded like they were almost serious about her, the street kid, being part of their snooty, upper-class family. Faith tore the first parcel open.

"Oh good lord," Giles groaned at the snakeskin cowboy boots. "This is Boston, not 1840s Texas, father," the Englishman muttered. "Stereotypes?"

"They’re fuckin’ cool!" Faith ignored her Watcher’s mumblings to crow, with her leather jacket they’d look the total bomb. She eagerly tore the second parcel to find a gleaming Ninja-to, three throwing stars, and a nunchaku. "These are wow," Faith stared at the weapons, unable to believe that someone she’d never even met would give her such an expensive present.

"My father’s Slayer in the late 50s was Japanese, since then he’s been obsessed with Japanese weaponry." The Englishman took what seemed to be a nervous breath before continuing. I’ve got a tree downstairs, an artificial one, but I’ve also got box of decorations for it. Unfortunately with cooking the dinner, I won’t be able to decorate it." The Watcher paused, a pleading look in his eyes. "I don’t suppose you’d do it for me after you’ve washed?"

Decorating wasn’t really her, but she figured she should throw the Englishman a bone for all her presents. "Yeah," Faith nodded, "I guess I can do that."

"Excellent!" Giles beamed before backing out of the room.

* * *

March ‘97

Pike licked his lips as he looked at the pretty brunette sat on the stool by the café’s counter. Gathering his courage, he strode over and stood behind her. "Hey you’re Faith aren’t you?"

The brunette turned to face him, a shit-eating smirk on her face. "So ya know my name, what else ya’d like to know about me?"

Pike blinked, off-put by the girl’s brashness. She had none of the shy coyness he was used to. "Just what you’re doing Friday night?"

The budding beauty looked him over, tongue running over her curved lips as she inspected him. "Depends what ya have in mind?"

"I thought we could go to the movies," Pike suggested.

"Just as long ya weren’t bankin’ on me being the sorta gal that gives it up for a bucket of popcorn?"

Pike gulped at the girl’s suggestiveness. He was three years her senior, but her saucy confidence was off-putting to say the least. "I wouldn’t think of it."

"Wicked," the girl grinned at him. "Meet ya at eight?"

"That works for me," Pike replied.

"Five by five," Faith looked over the counter. "He’s paying," the brunette rose and strutted out.

* * *

"It was good tonight," Pike commented as they stopped on the porch of Faith’s house.

"Yeah, wicked film," Faith smirked up at him.

"That’s not what I meant," Pike ran his hand down the brunette’s face. "I was thinking-."

His companion groaned as the door swung open to reveal a thunderous-looking man. "Faith!" the man had an English accent. "Who is this?"

"Pike," the brunette pouted. "My boy-friend."

"Like bloody hell he is." Pike shrivelled inwardly at the older man’s volcanic glare. "And how old are you?" Pike’s mouth opened. "Eighteen, nineteen? Do you know how old she is?"

The girl shot the old man a pained look. "G-."

"Go before I forget myself and kick your arse all the way down the street!" the foreigner snapped.

"Okay, okay," Pike threw his hands into the air and backed off. "Faith, see you!"

* * *

"No you will not!" Giles snapped, eyes hard.

"What the hell was that about?" Faith snapped, her own eyes flashing as she glared up at the Watcher.

"Faith," the Watcher’s eyes softened as he looked towards her. "You’re a wonderful young woman, far too good for that scruffy bugger. You can do much better, you’re far too special for that boy."

Faith laughed. "Hate to break it to ya G, but what he wants ain’t special at all."

"Well maybe it should be," Giles retorted angrily before taking a slow breath. "Even if you don’t realise it you’re an exceptional young woman with a world of potential. No pun unintended." The Watcher shook his head. "You’re too good for that feckless lout."

"Yeah?" Faith scowled at the Englishman. Why did he say shit like that, ‘bout her being special? Deciding it must be a way of sugar-controlling his control over her, she continued. "Ya might have some papers that say ya’re my guardian and shit, but ya ain’t my dad and ya don’t tell me what to do!"

"Faith!" Giles snapped as she spun away from him and strode off. "Come back here right now!"

"Ya and yar stinkin’ Council don’t own me!" she screamed as she strode off into the darkness.

* * *

The bar was really bangin’ by the time she reached it, its dank walls shaking to heavy metal, the patrons a mixture of leather-clad moshers and denim-wearing head-bangers. Faith stalked through the grinding crowd to push her way into a position at the bar. "Mine’s a Jack Daniels."

The bartender, a balding man with popeye forearms and a shiny bald head, spun to face her. "Faith!" the man, a guy who’d lived in the same tenement as her and her mom and had always looked out for her, beamed. "As I live and breathe! How long’s it been, a year?"

"Maybe a little more," Faith grinned. "How ‘bout that Daniels?"

"You might drink in other bars," her friend shook his head as he passed her a bottle over the dirty bar, "in mine you’re on coke."

Faith sighed as she took the proffered coke. "Where you been?"

Faith shrugged. "This English guy adopted me out of the home."

"You look well on it," her companion commented. "You never had such clean clothes when you were living with Martha."

Faith shrugged. "He’s okay. I blew him off tonight ‘cause he was bitchin’ ‘bout my boy-friend."

"Maybe you should go home." Faith’s eyes narrowed. "It’s clear this guy whoever this guy is he cares about you," Paul stared steadily at her, even as her mouth opened. "Has he hit or molested you? Does he feed you? Do you feel safe with him?"

Faith scowled before spinning away from the bar. "I didn’t come here for a fuckin’ lecture!"

The night’s cool air was refreshing after the club’s sweltering confines but failed to soothe her raging temper. Instead she stormed through Boston rainy streets. Men, they all tried to fuckin’ own you in one way or another.

Faith suddenly sensed something blurred and indistinct in the shadows behind him. She grinned fiercely as she drew her switchblade, just let the fucker try-.

"Hello little girl." Faith gasped as a burly man lunged out of the shadows in front of her, his upward-swinging backhanded slap catching her in the mouth and knocking her into the wall, switchblade clattering uselessly to the garbage-strewn ground. Blood dripping from her bottom lip and head ringing, Faith nevertheless had enough left to attempt a kick that her assailant took on his thigh without apparently noticing. "Such a pretty little thing," Faith gurgled when her attacker grabbed her around the throat and lifted her from her feet. "I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together."

Time froze when the man’s eyes flashed yellow and teeth elongated. A vampire, she was dead. Faith punched out desperately, her knuckles smashing into the demon’s nose. Her eyes widened when the demon’s nose shattered and he staggered backwards, Faith dropped to the ground.

Eyes incredulous, the demon leapt at her, leading with a straight right. Faith slid under the punch, grabbing her attacker’s wrist as she did so. Faith twisted and pushed, flinging the vampire past her and face-first into the wall. Faith spun to face her attacker, foot swinging seamlessly up to crash into the demon’s lower back.

The vampire spun into a backfist that Faith ducked under before smashing a pencil into his chest. "Yes!" Faith punched the air as the demon exploded into ash. "I’m the fuckin’ Slayer!"

* * *

Giles looked up as the sound of the front door opening, relief flooding him. That silly girl, storming out in the middle night, she knew better than most about both the natural and unnatural horrors plaguing the night. Rising, he hurried out into the hallway to remonstrate with her.

And found the girl bouncing up and down on the spot, an almost giddy look on her face. Which was most unFaith like. "I’m the Slayer!" the girl shouted excitedly. "I’m the fuckin’ Slayer and I killed a vampire!"

Giles rocked back on his feet, the veracity and sincerity of the girl’s announcement undeniable. "Oh no," he whispered, "no. I never wanted you to be the Slayer."

"What?" Faith’s elation turned quickly to hurt and then even faster to anger. "Oh?" she snarled, more wounded animal than human. "Not good enough for ya fuckin’ Council?"

"No Faith," he shook his head, the pain in his chest threatening to crush him. "I only wanted to spare you this-, wanted you to have a full, long life-."

"I’m gonna be the best Slayer ever!" the brunette snapped. "Ya and yar Council think I’m worthless, just like everyone else! Well you can go to hell!"

* * *

"Devlin didn’t return home last night," reported his subordinate. "He was tracking a pretty teen when I left him."

"A girl killed Devlin?" Lothos smiled as he looked around the hushed room. "Devlin was strong, nearly a century old. And yet, a mere girl killed her. The rumours are true. There’s a Watcher in town, and now a Slayer. Find them, find them both."

"Did you see what Rosenberg was wearing today?" tittered Harmony. "I mean, dressed by her mother much?"

"What a dweeb!" agreed Aura.

Cordelia looked around as her friends descended into giggles, a deep loneliness filling her despite the presence of her friends. She sighed inwardly as they walked inside the school, its coldly impersonal corridors adding to her depression. There had to be more for her than the vapidity of her followers, the vanity of the jocks, and the general geekiness of Rosenberg and her lot.

Her life had to mean more than her mother’s. It just had to.

* * *

"I don’t see why I need ya."

Giles gritted his teeth at his charge’s surliness as they strode through the hushed graveyard. "I’m here because," he cast a wary gaze into the inky shadows surrounding them, "I’m your Watcher and it is my duty."

"Yeah?" Faith shot him a scornful look, the Slayer dressed to kill in a pair of criminally tight jeans and a hooded grey sweatshirt over a purple gym vest. "What ya gonna do if there’s trouble, hold my coat?"

Giles bit back his reply. The teen rabble-rouser had become ever more difficult to handle in the month since she’d been Called. He supposed he should be grateful she hadn’t just absconded.

"Well she seems to be a livewire doesn’t she?"

"Oh dear," Giles’ heart chilled as a ‘man’ stepped out of the shadows, his blonde locks combed back, his eyes cold and skin deathly grey, his clothes the baroque style of a well-heeled eighteenth century nobleman. This vampire had power and age, he could feel it coming off him in waves. His eyes widened as Faith started forward. "No!"

"Fuck!" Faith crashed to the ground when the vampire side-stepped her charge and caught her with a clothesline to the chest.

The demon stared down contemptuously at his charge even as he started forward, legs shaky as he attempted to put himself between the vampire and his adopted daughter. "Hot-headed and foolish," the centuries old undead commented. "Even if you hadn’t bumped into me-." The demon stopped and chuckled as he stepped in front of the downed Slayer. "Oh, her Watcher, how very gallant."

Hand clammy with sweat, Giles raised his cross. "You -, ugh."

"You know," he gasped as the demon grabbed his wrist and twisted it, the cross falling from his hand as the vampire snatched him by the throat and flung him into a gravestone, ribs bruising on impact, "I really don’t like those things."

"Then," Giles felt a surge of pride as the Slayer kipped up and caught the vampire with a right to the jaw, "ya gonna hate this!" The vampire’s head snapped back under the impact, giving Faith chance to spin into a kick to the demon’s side.

"Cursed child!" the vampire cracked an elbow into the side of Faith’s head, staggering the boisterous beauty. "I have killed many of your number!" the vampire grabbed Faith by her hair and yanked her head back, the Slayer hissing in pain.

"Not her!" Giles was busy pulling himself up on the gravestone, its weathered stone cutting into his hands when a shadowy form crashed out of the darkness and into the vampire. Although the shape was immediately knocked off by the demon, that gave Faith enough time to work herself loose of his grip.

The vampire laughed mockingly. "Until next time!" And then just like that he was gone.

"Pike!" Giles blinked as the Slayer sped over to the grounded youth and helped him to his feet. "What the hell ya doin’ here?"

Pike shot him a bemused look. "I was coming ‘round to talk to your dad, when I saw you leaving the house and talking about demons, I figured you were in some sort of cult, so I-um followed you."

"And saved our asses!" Faith shot him a ‘I-told-you-so’ look. "Ain’t he the bomb?"

"Indeed," Giles nodded slowly. He had rather more reservations about the young man, but he had at least acted bravely.

* * *

After they’d gotten home, explained about Slayers and sworn Pike to secrecy, the dazed young man left, Faith spinning to face him the moment the front door clicked shut. "Why did ya jump in-between me and that vamp?"

"Well um," Giles stuttered, caught off balance by the girl’s almost desperate sounding query, "um, you are my Slayer and I your Watcher, it of course falls to me to aid you in any way I can."

Faith looked at him and nodded, her normally expressive eyes unreadable. "Yeah, I figured it had to be somethin’ like that." Giles hid a grimace, sensing that an opportunity had been missed. The young woman paused. "I know I’m like a freshman, but Pike’s asked me to the prom a week on Friday."

Giles opened his mouth to say no then closed it, brow furrowing in thought. He could forbid the Slayer, but he knew if he did, she’d more than likely defy him anyway, causing more ill-will between them, and it wasn’t as if Pike was a bad lad, not good enough for his girl of course, but hardly the shifty layabout he’d originally thought he was. "You’re in by eleven," Faith’s mouth began to open, "eleven or you don’t go at all, entirely your choice." The Slayer nodded, a sullen expression on her face. "Excellent," Giles forced a smile, "and now to business, we need to find out who that vampire was."

Faith pouted. "Can’t I go-."

"No you cannot go and play on your bloody games console," Giles interrupted. "Research is part of a Slayer’s duty." Giles turned and looked at his stuffed bookcase, sweeping half a shelf into his arms, and carefully placing them on the coffee tables. "These are the tomes I have on vampires. Shall we begin?"

"There’s nothing here," Faith declared as she slammed the last of the nine texts shut with a disdainful slam.

"No," Giles took his glasses off and rubbed at his aching eyes, "there doesn’t seem to be. I’ll order some more books from our library."

"I don’t know why ya all don’t invest in some computers, back yar libraries onto computers," Faith commented.

"Infect our esteemed archives with those accursed machines?" Giles shot his charge a horrified look. "Certainly not."

* * *

"Pike’s pulled up, he’s on his hog!" Giles felt his blood pressure double at his charge’s excited proclamation from upstairs. "How fuckin’ cool is that!"

"The bloody dogs’ bollcoks," he muttered as he tried to read his newly arrived texts.

Of course his charge wasn’t about to let him. "So, how do I look?" The Slayer walked in wearing a leather mini that had marginally more material than a loin cloth, and a surely too tight to breathe black tube-top under her favourite leather jacket.

"Well um." Giles reddened as he fought back the urge to tell Faith to get upstairs and change into the nice, full-length sack he’d picked out especially for her. "I thought it was formal wear?"

Well prayed actually.

"Heh, they’ll be just grateful they’re gettin’ me," his charge confidentially proclaimed. "See ya later!"

"Yes I’m sure," he murmured as the brunette beauty hurried out before shouting. "And remember your curfew."

An hour later, he rose to stretch his back. "Oh bloody hell!" he cursed as his knee caught the bottom of his stacked volumes, knocking them off. Muttering curses under his breath, he crouched down and began picking the books up. Then he picked an open one up, brow furrowing as he recognised a picture on one of the pages as their attacker of the previous night.

"Lothos," he whispered, blood draining from his face. "The Hungarian Horror, the Butcher of Bucharest, the Bulgarian Beast, Poland’s Pain, The Unwhispered Terror, here?" The book fell from his hands as he read the details of the vampire’s seven Slayer kills, he had to get to his charge.

* * *

Faith smirked as she strutted into the dance, knowing every eye was on her, her arm wrapped around her denim wearing companion. "I’ve got a gin bottle in my jacket," Pike muttered, "wanna distract the stiff guarding the punch while I spike it?"

Faith glanced around the gaily lit gym room with its glitter-balls dangling from the ceiling, the banners hanging from all four walls, and the band at the far end playing with aplomb if not skill, their sounds blasting out of the black speakers in every corner, while the punch in question stood on a table just in front of the bleachers, surrounded by the traditional party snacks. Couples danced around the gym floor, the floor patrolled by eagle-eyed oldies. "This party needs something to get it started," she agreed, her eyes suddenly snapping back to the commotion at the entrance. "What the fuck?"

* * *

Lothos smirked as he snapped a chatting teen’s neck, throwing the girl’s corpse to the ground, the screams starting as he and his minions entered the makeshift dance hall. "Guard the entrances," he growled. "No one leaves." He beamed as his eyes alighted on the Slayer. "We end this dance tonight."

* * *

Faith’s eyes snapped towards Pike, her hand blurring into her jacket to pull out her spare stake and pass it off to her companion, grabbing the gin bottle off him as she did so. "Get them out of that entrance," she nodded to one of the two side doors, "but hurry."

"What about you-."

"Just do it," Faith snapped before starting towards the vampires, pushing through the panicked, screaming mob, the band having long since stopped playing. A vampire lunged out of the seething melee, Faith side-stepped it and continued on her way, ducking under a kick to the head before grabbing her assailant’s ankle and pulling the female vamp’s leg from under her, staking her as she landed.

* * *

Pike scowled as he rushed away from Faith, hating to leave her yet recognising she was far more capable of handling these things than he was. Speaking of which, he slammed a stake into the back of a vampire feeding off a girl he recognised as a cheerleader.

So no loss there then.

Charging past the exploding dust, he held the door open. "Come on!" he yelled, beckoning towards the screaming mob, "get out of here!"

Even as the pupils, teachers, and chaperones swarmed past him, he watched to see how Faith was doing, heart thumping furiously. And then he was grabbed around the shoulder and flung from the building, landing on his side on the unforgiving tarmac outside. "Faith!" he screamed vainly as the doors slammed shut, leaving his girl-friend alone with the remaining vampires.

* * *

Another demon came at her, Faith ducking under his wild haymaker and staking him, even as her free hand caught another demon under the chin, lifting her from her feet and dumping her on the ground. The downed female demon attempted a leg sweep that Faith jumped over en-route to landing beside the demon in a crouch and smashing her stake home.

"And then there was just us."

Faith gasped as a clubbing right crashed into her forehead, knocking her onto her pretty ass. A chill ran through her as she saw a smirking Lothos stood over her. Before she had chance to react the demon had her by her throat and was flinging her through the air, Faith gasped as she crashed into the refreshments table, the force of the impact sending her and the table to the ground, food falling all over her.

Faith’s heart thundered as she struggled to her feet, all too conscious of the demon’s formidable power, it came off him in waves. And even if he defeated her, there was the seven or eight remaining demons still lining the gym’s walls.

In short, she was royally screwed.

* * *

"Pike!" Pike blinked as a car slammed to a halt beside him and Giles peered out of the door. "Where’s Faith?"

"She’s in there." He pointed towards the ablaze gym.

"I trusted you with her!" The Watcher snarled. Before Pike had a chance to defend himself, the Watcher set off towards the burning building, steam flying up from the car’s tires.

* * *

"Little Slayer," Faith looked towards the taunting vampire. "Thinks because she has a little power, she can stand against me." Faith ducked a contemptuous backhand, her stake coming up at the vampire’s heart.

"Shit!" Faith gasped as the demon grabbed her wrist just inches from his chest, pain shooting through her forearm. "Ahhh!" She screamed as he twisted her arm, stake falling from her grasp, and rattling uselessly as it hit the floor. She swung her leg up in a kick to the demon’s side only to catch another teeth-rattling back-hand for her trouble.

And then she was flying through the air, crashing into the wooden bleachers at the other side of the hall. "Hell!" Faith wheezed, back arching in pain from the collision and lungs wheezing for breath.

"Oh little Slayer." Before she had chance to blink Lothos was by her side. "So hurt, so weaponless."

Faith forced a grin. "Wouldn’t go that far."

"Aaaah!" Lothos reared back when she threw the gin she’d taken off Pike in his eyes. "You."

"Bitch?" Faith interrupted as she pulled out her gold lighter, G wouldn’t let her smoke any more, but she kept it as a memento, lit it and threw it in the blinded vampire’s face.

"Aaaah!" the blinded vampire lunged at her, but Faith rolled out of the way, leaving Lothos to crash into the bleachers and burst into dust even as he ignited the seats. The bleachers erupted into flames, conflagration engulfing the wooden seats and quickly spreading to the other vampires. Faith turned and charged to the nearest double doors.

"Jesus!" Faith yelped as she grabbed hold of the door’s steel handle only to jerk away, the heat radiating from it threatening to burn her. Her eyes narrowed as she heard something above the flames, the roaring of something strangely familiar yet muted by the building. "Oh fuck!" Faith yelped as she leapt sideways, the door exploding inwards as she did so, her eyes widening in disbelief as Giles drove in. "G! How did you-."

"We don’t have time for this!" Giles flung the door open. "Get in!"

In seconds she was diving head-first into the car, Giles not giving her time to close her door or even pull her legs in before reversing. "School’s out!" Faith laughed as the car screeched out of the burning gym. "And I don’t think I’ll be allowed back next year!"

"Oh there’s other schools," Giles grimly replied. "And you’ll be going to one, somewhere."

"Don’t I get any reward for kicking Lothos’ ass?" Faith groaned.

Giles laughed. "So young and so naive."

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