(Buffy's POV)
"Buffy, we - we got news. On - Faith," Giles' voice echos through my phone.

I frown slightly I haven't heard anything about her in quite awhile. "What is it?" I ask, sure the forwn is evident in my voice.

"She - She died," he says.

I feel my eyes widen in surprise. "But - That means - there's a new slayer - somewhere,"

I say, struggling to find my words. "Yes, indeed. We need to find her so we can teach her, so she doesn't end up like -" he cuts himself off, "Faith," I finish quietly.

He clears his throat, "Indeed," he replies.

"I'll find her," I tell him.

"Thank you Buffy," he responds.

"No problem," I say, and hang up the phone. "Great," I say quietly out loud.

Suddenly, Spike, as normal, comes slauntering in from the kitchen, "What's great, luv?" he asks.

I roll my eyes, "Old, second slayer, dead, new one, need to find," I say in gibberish.

"Oh. Well, I'll help you find 'er if you'd 'ike," he says.

I shrug, "Could I guess, just stay out of my way," I say.

He raises an eyebrow, obviously noticing the fact that any other time, I would have told him to fuck off, and do something else. I sigh, "Don't question it, I'm tired and we need to find this new slayer,"

I say. He nods, and leaves. Every night. Something just has to happen before I get ready for bed.
(Spike's POV)
I walk around, looking for this newly raised slayer, and ponder how Buffy so readily said yes t' me 'elping look for 'er. Suddenly I 'ear weeping and smell the scent of fresh blood. I frown slightly. "What slayer not ready to kill. Or maybe you just can't,"

I 'ear a vampire scoff at someone. "Or maybe, you're just ready to die, I mean, I do smell blood, fresh," the same vampire snarls.

I turn and walk in the dirrection of the sound. "Excuse me, but, I'd 'ike this one if you don't mind. I 'aven't 'ad a good meal in a few days,"

I say. The vampire looks at me and shrugs, "I like fast food better anyway, this one's all dead inside. Even if she is a slayer, she's no fun," the vampire spits his own words and walks away.

I look down at the little girl curled in a ball at my feet. She's only maybe 13 or 14. "Can you walk?" I ask 'er.

She looks up at me slowly, 'er bottom 'ip is shakin' slightly, and there's 'ot tears welled in 'er eyes, but she nods slightly, an' stands shakily.
(Y/N's POV)
"You're a no good whore!" my mother shouts at me, her words slurring as she does.

Tears well in my eyes. She's drunk again. Drunk or high. Maybe both. Suddenly there's a stinging sensation in my cheek. She slapped me. She's never slapped me before. Yelled at me? Sure. Cursed me out? Yeah. But she just slapped me. I shove back the tears quickly, before she sees them, and walk upstairs, to my bedroom. I close the door behind me and lock it. I then pick up my bed, and place it against it. Weird, the bed feels light as a feather. I shrug it off, and move the dresser against the door as well. I'm not taking any chances. Last time I locked it for my sake, she figured out a way to unlock it. I take a deep breath, and decide I'm running away this time. I open my window, and carefully step out, climbing down, and then when I'm about 5 or 6 feet from the ground, I let myself drop, dropping into a crouch on instinct as I hit the ground. I run down the street, getting farther and farther from home. I reach an alley, and drop into the corner, pulling out my little razor blade. I slowly make four, then seven, then ten, little cuts on my left wrist. I push my sleeve back down over the bleeding cuts, feeling numb now as hot tears start to well, and I can't stop thinking about what my mother said. Suddenly, this guy, with big bumpy ridges, bright yellow/gold eyes, and pale skin, with fangs stands over me, a little part in the back of my mind shouts, "Vampire," and I just curl up around myself slightly more."What slayer not ready to kill?" he scoffs at me.

I don't know what he means by slayer, but I feel more tears well slightly in my eyes, "Or maybe you just can't," he adds.

I bite the inside of my cheek so I won't start crying. I don't wanna look weak, though, I probably do already. "Or maybe you're just ready to die," he snarls. "I mean, I do smell fresh blood."

I bite my lip and clench my left fist. "Excuse me," a voice cuts in, "but I'd like this one, if you don't mind. I haven't had a good meal in a few days," the voice is heavily accented.

British. My 'attacker' looks away, at the guy instead I suppose. "I like fast food anyway, this one's all dead inside. Even if she is a slayer, she's no fun," 'attacker one' tells 'attacker two', spitting his words like they're poisonous.

I hear his footsteps echo away. "Can you walk?" the Brit asks.

I look up at him, and nod, standing shakily. "C'mon, Pet," he says, gently grabbing my arm, and walking back out to the road.

I stumble slightly, and he catches me, "You okay?" he asks.

I nod, silently. He sniffs the air a minute and frowns, "Roll up your sleeve," he says sternly.

I shake my head no. "I didn't ask. Roll. Up. Your. Sleeve," he demands.

I again shake my head no. He grabs my right arm pulling me against him so that I'm facing him but can't move, "I asked you nicely, but you didn't listen," he says, pushing my sleeve up, but being careful.

Is he? Is he trying not to hurt me? He sighs, "Thought so," he whispers.

He sits hard on the ground, pulling me into his lap. "Why?" he asks simply.

"I um I - I just I - It's just - I," I struggle to find words to explain my situation.

He pulls my head against his hard chest, "Go ahead, Luv, cry," he says, "I won't tell anyone."

I shakily let out a sigh, and let a couple hot tears slip down my cheeks. After a while I find myself, bawling into the shoulder of this strange, stranger. He gently rubs my back, seeming as if he cares, but is unsure of how to comfort someone. I pull back and look into his eyes, "Why are you helping me?"

I ask quietly. "Because. You're just an innocent girl. You shouldn't hurt this badly. I want to help you get better," he says, and his accent hits me again.

He wipes my tears away. "C'mon, Luv, I'll introduce you to the other slayer, and she'll explain everything, 'er or 'er watcher boy," he says.

I frown slightly but nod. "Do you wanna go somewhere, an' warsh up firs' or no'?" he asks me.

I nod, "I just wanna," I gesture to my face, "I don't wanna show up with dried tears everywhere," I whisper.

He nods in understanding, pushing a fallen lock of h/c back behind my ear softly. I smile fondly, starting to feel slightly shy. He smiles, and grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers. "It'll be alright, Luv," he whispers to me.

I nod, and he walks to a little store, letting go of my hand and pulling the door open for me. I walk in stopping and waiting for him to follow, and then asking quietly, "Where's the bathroom?" He points to a corner of the store, and then goes down one of the aisles.

I go to the bathrooms, and look in the mirror. I look like shit. My h/c hair's all over the place. My e/c are still brimmed with tears, and look really red. There's tear stains all over my cheeks. I go over to the sink, and cup my hands, filling them with water, and then splashing it on my face. I wipe around my face with the water, and look back into the mirror, some of the redness is gone, the tears are gone, and the tear stains are gone. That's good. I then take and run some water on my hands, pushing my h/c locks back down, into place. I then walk out of the bathroom, to see the strange Brit buying a few things. Mainly snack things like beef jerky and chips, along with something to drink. I walk over to him. "Ready, Luv?" he asks me.

I nod silently. He picks up his purchases and together we walk outside of the store. He hands me everything, "These are for you, Luv," he says.

I frown, "Thank you, but you didn't have to,"I say, my voice still sounding quiet in my own ears.

"It's fine, Luv. You need something to eat, and drink, rebuild those blood cells you just caused yourself to lose," he gives me pointed look.

I bite my lip, and say nothing else, slowly opening the beef jerky. I pull out a piece, and nibble on it. Before long, I've ate the whole bag of beef jerky, half the little bag of chips, drank half the soda, and a couple cookies. I hadn't realized how hungry I was. We reach another store, called the Magic Box, and he holds the door open for me, I carefully walk in, and he follows me, "Found 'er," he says to the man behind the counter.

"She's a little young to be a slayer," the man says.

Spike, as I learned his name is, rolls his eyes, "I thought the same thing, but this is 'er," he says.

"I. Am not that young," I say sassily.

Spike gives me a smirk that clearly says, "That was cute," and the man behind the counter starts to get flustered, "No, of course not, that's not what I meant, I just meant, normally, you're not called as a slayer until you are at least 16."

Suddenly another girl walks in, "Oh, good Spike you're already here, did you find her?" she asks.

He points to me. She frowns and looks at the man behind the counter, "Young, isn't she?" she asks.

I throw my hands up, "I AM NOT THAT YOUNG!" I shout. Her eyes widen, the man behind the counter ignores me, "As I was saying, you're normally not called as a slayer until you're at least 16," he repeats.

She frowns again, "I was only 15. How old are you?" she asks me.

"I. Am 14," I say. Spike's still looking at me with something that looks like appreciation. "I like this one, she's a fighter," he says.

I feel a slight blush raise to my face. Buffy looks between us, "Does that mean you'll leave me alone?" she asks, almost hopefully.

A little too hopefully. "Maybe, maybe not, depends," he says, but I think his answers actually yes, he just wants to mess with her.

She looks at me, "So you're the new slayer, huh?" she asks.

"Guess so," I say.

"Come with me, I'll test that," she says.

"Take her out where there's a bunch of demons and vampires, and I swear," Spike starts.

"Spike, calm your ass down, I'm not going to, I'm not stupid," she mutters. Spike mutters something else, but I'm not sure what.