Standard Disclaimer: I am not Joss Whedon or anyone otherwise involved with Mutant Enemy and its productions. Ergo, I have absolutely no ownership of this whatsoever. I'm doing this for love of the characters, rather than for any sort of personal gain. Any original characters are mine, as is the prose, but the story wouldn't exist without the Buffyverse province of Whedonverseland. Long may Joss reign. :)

Author's Notes: This is a story about Faith. Other characters will pop up, even put in major appearances, but it's her story, following her from her rough childhood through to being Chosen, all the way through her time on the Buffy and Angel TV shows, and then examining some of the repercussions of the events after the series finale as they affect Faith. It's an enormous, ambitious undertaking, and I can't promise I'll be all that great about updating regularly. But I will finish it.

Meanwhile, I'm playing a lot with universe canon in this story. A big problem has been the issue of Dawn. I never liked her, for three reasons:

(1) her dialogue was obviously written to be a 6 or 7 year old, but the actress they hired was a teenager so they revised to make the character 14, which just made her seem ridiculously immature;

(2) she does the stupidest things (that put everyone around her in danger);

(3) her relationship with Buffy and the Scoobies is identical to what my relationship to my sister and her friends was (right down to the age differences), and when I was watching that season, my real-life dynamic was changing in ways I didn't want, so it made me kinda bitter/jealous. (Yay, introspection?)

And because I never liked her, I wanted to delete her. However, that would cause major structural issues. (Season 5, anyone?) I ended up at a compromise based around the fact that (1) is really my biggest problem with her, and the other two are just icing. So, in this version, she's not six years younger than Buffy, she's thirteen years younger than Buffy. Which makes her approximately seven during the events of season 5, and would have her approximately 5 when Faith first arrives in Sunnydale. Since things are being told in retrospect after the monks created memories of Dawn and wove them into everyone's brains, they will act as though they knew each other for season 3. They will, therefore, reference memories that do not exist because Dawn did not exist at the time. So, if you find yourself confused, just bear with me and take it as part of the time-space weirdness. Other than the change of Dawn's age and existence (which won't become a big deal until a ways into the story, but seemed good to address now), this is pretty much going to be canonical through the series run on television. I haven't read the season 8 comics (I hear they're good though?), so I can't keep it canon through those.

You can always ask in a review or PM if something doesn't make sense. Sometimes I'll want things to be obscure for a while. (Note, if you really want a response back, a PM is a better route than reviews. I read all reviews, but do not reply to them. I will reply to PMs.)

Obviously, a lot of Faith's past is pretty murky and unclear. She's not only deceptive to others, but self-deceptive and in pain to boot. You can't always take what she says in the show as true, nor can you take what is true as the whole truth. This is mostly just to point out that you can't always trust what she says, especially when there are good reasons for her to lie, but also to cover up any inconsistencies between series canon and claims made in this story. Also, because this is Faith we're talking about, we will be dealing with mature issues such as drinking, drug use, sexual activities, criminal violence of various descriptions (including murder and torture), abuse, etc, in this story. If any of these things bother you, this is most definitely not the story for you. Viewer discretion is advised. To assist you, I'll warn in authorial notes of anything major for each chapter, but there will not really be any bright flashing signs, symbols, or formatting changes to show where any objectionable material may lie.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this!

… … …

"In English, when you do something crazy and dangerous, they tell you you're playing with fire. In German, they say you're dancing on a volcano. I guess that would make you a professional volcano dancer, Faith."

"Volcano dancer?" Faith's voice was dubious. At fourteen years old, she found everything dubious, but especially anything one of her peers told her. And although he was older by enough to not be a peer anymore, that applied especially to Donovan Crane, currently sitting beside her, watching her shoot bolts at the straw targets arranged around the far end of the room.

"Yeah." There were no traces of mockery or insincerity in his voice or vigorous nod. She decided to take the bait.

"I like it. It's…" Faith searched for the word as she loaded her crossbow. "Clear. Like I can see it. Who taught you that?"

"Please, Faith. My cousin's wife is from Germany."

"You still had to learn it!"

"Faith, concentrate," the voice of Amelia Crane, Faith's Watcher, chided gently before its owner appeared in the doorway, wearing a pressed linen suit and carrying a longbow. "You're here to learn how to fight the undead, not argue with my nephew. Donovan, don't distract her or I won't let you visit while she's here anymore."

"Yes, Aunt."

"Fetch your father for me. Tell him to bring the battle axes and sword chest."

"Yes, Aunt." Donovan rose from the seat beside Faith. Still lanky and slightly frail with pudgy, babyish features at the age of seventeen, he loped down the hallway with strangely easy grace. Faith watched him out, trying to figure out what he had meant by bringing up playing with fire and dancing on volcanoes. He frequently was mysterious to her, but this felt significant.

"You're fascinated by my nephew."

Faith startled and turned around, expression guilty. Even if she wasn't doing anything wrong, somehow her Watcher always made her feel like she was. It was probably residual from her upbringing, and always being in trouble at home. What was new to her was the desire to fix what she was doing wrong and please her Watcher. "I- No. No, Amelia, you're wrong."

Amelia quirked an eyebrow at Faith.

"I just... He's nice to me."

Amelia nodded and walked into the room, laying the bow down beside Faith. "And you've had precious little enough of that. Take care, Faith; to be a Slayer is to be solitary. It's not given to Slayers and Watchers to have the warm comforts of loved ones. Our mission is far too dire."

"Do you always have to remind me?" Faith grumbled, shooting her crossbow at the furthest target and scoring a perfect bulls-eye. As the bolt collided, the scene shifted and the target became Amelia, bloodied and battered, begging for death as fire raged around them and the ground trembled. Faith lifted the sword in her arms, prepared to bring it down…

Faith woke quickly, heart racing, sweaty and clammy all over. There was an hour until dawn, and she was back in her studio flat. Outside, she could hear a woman screaming.

She slept in her clothes these days. It was faster and easier to get out and get back to slaying. She snatched up the crossbow from beside her bed, and leaned out the window, getting an easy sight on the vampires who dared attack on her doorstep. Dusting them quickly and efficiently, she sighed and leaned back against her windowsill.

Sunnydale, Cleveland, Edinburgh, Rome, Ankara, Beijing, Bali, Melbourne… She'd been to all of the Hellmouths, and all the places in between. They looked alike now. Overridden. The undead had taken over, breeding like cockroaches. Even Boston, her home, was swarming with vampires in numbers she had only ever seen in Sunnydale before they had… well. Just before.

Faith put her crossbow down and watched the woman run down the alleyway. She paused once, looking back up in the direction from which the bolts had come. Her eyes locked with Faith's, and a quiet understanding passed between them.

"I'll fix this, lady," Faith promised in a whisper. "Somehow. Because if I don't, then we're all doomed."

Faith got up and went to the shower. Being back in Boston had brought back all the memories she'd tried to hard to repress. Her sisters, parents, friends, and foes were haunting her here, and she needed to escape again. In the morning, she was bound for Sunnydale, back to the place where the end of the world began, in order to try to jump start life again.

The fights were getting harder. She was slipping up, coming as close to losing as it was possible without ending up a vampire herself. Faith turned off the water and reached for a towel. For a Slayer, she was downright old, having just turned thirty-two. Her body wasn't out of shape by any means, but she no longer had the quicksilver reactions of a teenager in peak physical condition. The deadline to turn back what Buffy began had created itself from her blood, forged of her sinews and tendons, her scars and cracking joints, and myriad aches and pains that she ignored and fought through on a continual basis. The vampires and other monsters had just reinforced it by stepping up their activities. She had to fix it before she could die. That was all that it boiled down to. If she failed at that…

A knock came at her door, interrupting her musing. Wrapping the towel carefully around herself, Faith picked up an axe and peered through the peephole. The man with a broadsword on her doorstep looked like Giles, but who knew anymore?

"Yeah?" she asked, pulling the door open an inch – the maximum allowable distance with her chain bolt in place.

"Faith, we need to be on our way."

"Sure thing Giles. Let me just finish getting dressed. I'll be out in a minute." She closed the door without inviting him in. She'd learned her lesson about that when Riley had paid her a visit six years ago. The jagged, livid scar running diagonally across her torso from just under her left breast to her right hip was all the reminder she'd ever need to never invite anyone into her home again. And that was before the vampires became so populous. Her fingers traced absently over the scar as she took off her towel and selected clothes for the trip.

Dressed and ready, she left the apartment, not even bothering to lock it behind her. "Ready, Giles?"

"Ready."

His car was waiting in the alley outside, parked in the dust of the vampires she'd killed with her crossbow.

They drove in silence for the first twenty minutes. Faith watched as the sun rose, its watery light barely filtering through the sooty clouds on the horizon. The vampires may have gone to ground, but she could see demons wandering around openly, and shuddered.

"So what do we gotta do, Giles?" she asked as they got onto the freeway, heading for Sunnydale.

"Make it up as we go along, unfortunately. I've done some research, but most of my books have long since been destroyed or lost."

"Never did learn to use a computer, did you?" Faith rolled her eyes. "Got anyplan at all?"

"We're going out to the desert, first. When I was B-," he trailed off and cleared his throat. "Vision quests have been useful in the past. It's as good a place to start as any."

Faith nodded. Giles still couldn't say Buffy's name, even four years after her death. They hadn't spoken nearly the entire five before that, but the old man had always held out hope for reconciliation with his first Slayer. "And when's this celestial convergence you were talking about? You know, the one that's supposed to be all good-luckish or whatever?"

"We have three months."

"And how long will it take to get to Sunnydale?"

"About a week, if we don't stop driving except for toilet breaks and refilling the petrol tank. I packed food, so there won't be need to stop for that."

"Petrol tank? You are so British." Giles shrugged a shoulder and silence overtook them. Faith started fooling with the radio station dial. Most stations had gone dead when their staff no longer wanted to be bothered with the risk of leaving their homes for non-essential trips, but some people still operated solo outfits from their basements. And sometimes the vampires and demons used the airwaves as a way to communicate with one another during daylight. Still, she couldn't find anything but static, so she switched the tuner off and sat back.

"I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with W," she muttered under her breath, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the window.

"Wreckage," Giles muttered back. "Please let us not play that intolerable game."

"So what do you want to talk about? I'm wide awake and won't be crashing for a nap any time soon, and you can't be seriously thinking of driving in silence."

"I rather was, actually. I need space to think in order to come up with a plan. But if you're feeling chatty, why don't you pick a subject."

"Oh, please. What do I have to talk about? You've seen everything I have for the past nine years."

"And what about before that, Faith? You didn't just materialize out of the ether."

"You want me to tell you about my childhood and shit? That's so Psych 101."

"If that's all you have to talk about, then yes. It could be useful."

Faith shrugged a shoulder, thinking about it. It wasn't like she had much to lose. The odds that she and Giles would succeed on this mission were slim to none, and they had mostly managed to repair their differences. He was quite the fatherly figure to her now, and a part of her wanted to share her past with him, to have him hear it and understand it and know why she was who she was.

Amelia had always told her that the magic which chose the Slayer picked the one unique girl in all the world who was most qualified for the position. The one with the combination of experiences and skills that would perfectly fill what the world needed most in the next chapter of the fight against evil. Maybe, if she shared, Giles and his crazy smart brain would figure out why it had to be her and how they could improve their odds of success a little more.

"So where should I start?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Wherever seems most appropriate."

She rolled her eyes. "I dunno…" She closed her eyes again, letting it all replay itself. For the first time, she didn't flinch away, trying to hide from the uglier truths of her existence, and gradually, a narrative thread that she could follow began to appear. She took hold of it, and began to speak.