Faith was back in L.A, after helping Buffy and her Scoobies destroy Sunnydale's Hellmouth.
She was staying in a random hotel, and went out patrolling every night. Upon her patrols, she came across a woman who was hosting a party, for the under-life and such of Los Angeles. Faith managed an invite and went that night.
x
"Hey, Trixie." Faith said, approaching her red headed host. "I miss anything interesting?"
"Not yet." Trixie smiled. "I want you to meet my friend, Illyria, she used to be an Old One, and ruled the world before Man came and imprisoned her. She's still a tad bitter."
Faith looked beside Trixie to see a slender, blue, person with womanly features.
"You look upon me, but you do not see." Illyria said in her normally flat tone.
"Right. She must be quite the philosopher." Faith said, unphased, turning back to Trixie.
"She's a riot." Trixie turned towards the bar. "Rounds for my friends." She said, motioning towards Faith and Illyria.
The bartender obliged, swamped as he was by demonic and benign clientele.
In his frenzy, he sent flying a fork from the counter.
It landed in front of Illyria, and she almost looked offended by how close it came to her.
"What is it?" She asked Trixie.
"That would be a fork. A utensil, cutlery, for eating."
"I am intrigued. I want it." Illyria demanded.
"It's all yours, hun." Trixie laughed and turned back to Faith. "See? A riot."
Illyria picked up the fork, and proceeded to poke a small demon with it.
"Ooh, uh, Illyria, don't do that." Trixie asked.
"But, I wish to try out the skills of my new weapon."
"Weapon?" Faith laughed to herself.
"Um, here Illyria, you can poke this coat rack." Trixie suggested.
"Oh, this will prove to be quite promising."
Illyria spent the night poking away at the coat rack, and piercing holes in people's jackets, due to repeated stabbing.
Faith eventually left, held up a liquor store, stole a few bottles of vodka, and went back to the hotel.
At 6 in the morning, she was somewhere between very drunk, and very hung-over. Not even she could tell the difference at this point.
She decided to go find Illyria.
Illyria was in a hotel room of her own. She was half asleep, and poking the couch with her now bent out of shape, fork.
Faith found herself in the hallway of Illyria's hotel, smelling around like a crazy person.
"Fork, fork..." She kept murmuring to her drunken self.
Illyria sat up abruptly and looked drowsily at the kitchen table, where it seemed that the roll of paper towels were swaying back and forth on their own accord.
Illyria found herself talking aloud.
"The towels...they move alone..."
Faith swung Illyria's door open stood in the doorway, "Don't worry, when they burst into song and copulate with the stove, then you worry."
"My sleep deprived mind plays tricks. What do you want, mortal."
"The fork."
Suddenly it seemed like Illyria was wide awake, as she stood up, shielding the fork from harm's way, with her body as a barrier between it, and the taker, Faith.
"Not without a fight."
"Why are you protecting a fork? Does it have special powers?" Faith slurred.
"Why do you wish to possess my weapon, if you do not even know the power that it has?" Illyria said, as they circled each other.
"I, uh…good question." Faith said as she wobbled on spot.
Illyria then fell down from sleep deprivation, and Faith toppled over from too much alcohol.
x
They woke up several hours later, with the fork lying between them.
They glared at each other, as if each were ready to pounce for ownership of the utensil.
Then Trixie appeared at the door, and threw a spoon and knife beside the fork.
"Ooh!" Faith squealed.
Illyria jumped up and began examining the spoon, with interest.
"Wanna go poke civilians with cutlery?" Faith suggested to Illyria.
Illyria tilted her head in approval and they gathered their weapons and headed out together to the unsuspecting streets of L.A.