I. Xander

He'd wanted to stay. To be there with her, to hold her. To talk to her and learn about her and know her. She was actually a person to him. It baffled her. He was just a random lay. She'd had an itch, he'd scratched it-not very well, but good enough so that the itch lay dormant for now.

He'd been hurt and confused when she kicked him out. She'd hardened her heart and pushed him out the door, holding on to his clothes and what little was left of his dignity. She could see in his eyes that he didn't understand, and that it was a cruel thing to do to someone whose virginity she'd just brutalized. She almost felt guilty, but she didn't do guilt well, so she flipped the switch and said something random and bitchy and forgot about him the moment she closed the door.

Well, she pretended to.

That night, and many nights after, the thought kept returning to her. He'd wanted to stay.

No one ever wanted to stay.

II. Giles

She wasn't Buffy. He'd made that very clear.

It didn't bother her. She knew she wasn't the perfect blonde princess, didn't want to be, and was very glad she was who she was. Still, there were times when she saw how he was with her, how he talked to her and cared about her and worried about her, that she kind of wished she had someone like that. Not him, necessarily. Just someone like him.

She was in the training room once again and beating the stuffing out of a dummy. She was bored out of her mind and decided she was done with this crap. She felt him come up behind her, cautiously, and was about to turn and tell him he could stick his training routine right up his stiff English rear.

"Excellent form, Faith. Good work."

She paused, then kicked the dummy again. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

III. Angel

It wasn't just that he'd remembered her birthday. It was the fact that he was the only person alive (okay, undead) who actually knew when her birthday was. Sometimes she thought he knew more about her than she knew about herself.

It was nice that there was someone out there who cared enough to know.

Her eyes lit up in delight when he showed her the cupcake-with the single, unlit candle-he'd bought her. He explained he would have tried to bake her one, but, well… he didn't bake. It never ended well. She assured him that purchased was fine and dandy by her as he gave it to the guard, who in turn removed the candle and checked it for contraband before handing it over to her.

They looked down at the sad, newly mangled cupcake, and both managed to laugh. They shared a rueful grin of understanding, and that more than anything made her insides warm.

It was nice to have someone to laugh with, too.

IV. Wesley

To his credit, he hadn't said a word about the damage to his bathroom.

When he came in, alerted by the noise, she'd been on the verge of kicking out the glass shower doors. He didn't look shocked, or even disturbed, just mildly amused as he wrapped a large silver-gray towel around her bruise-covered body and guided her out of the room.

Again to his credit, he didn't visually assess all the flesh left exposed by the towel, except maybe to gauge just how many wounds she actually had now that the blood obscuring them was gone. She would have been lying if she said she wasn't a little disappointed that the sight of her near-nakedness did nothing to arouse the animal instinct within him. But maybe that was what she liked about him, too-he could control himself when it was necessary.

"We'll get him, Faith. I promise you."

She smiled faintly. She knew they would. Because finally, the two of them were working together instead of against each other. Funny how much that mattered now.

V. Spike

He handed her his cigarette and she took a long, leisurely pull, relishing the way it burned her lungs as she inhaled. God, but it felt good to have nicotine in her system again. She'd had to go without it for too long. Being a role model for all the young innocents who looked up to her, it was a tough gig. She was still her, but she couldn't be her all the way. Not if she was trying to be better than who she'd been. This was her shot at redemption, a real one, not like that self-imposed prison sentence that didn't do anyone a damn bit of good, least of all her.

He didn't say anything, just let the silence of the empty basement surround them, and for that she was grateful. He knew, better than anyone, better even than Angel, how hard it was. They'd both chosen this road, the path that weaved its way straight through the heart of hell, while he'd had his forced on him. It wasn't quite the same, and while they were neither ones for heart-to-hearts and soul-searching, they'd commiserated now and then on how difficult it was to stay good sometimes.

"You ready to go face the horde, love?"

She made a face. She wasn't, but the patient smile he gave her bolstered her. She wasn't alone.