Slouching in her chair, Faith glowered at the bare wall behind Giles' desk. How the Hell had the Council goons found her? She'd hitched a ride nearly to Los Angeles, and the bar she'd found wouldn't have gotten Giles' approval (or the Health Department's). Remembering the scene they'd created dragging her out... Faith's scowl deepened. She was sick of this shit. Maybe it was time to find another city. Sunnydale was too small. And it already had a Slayer, the Council's Golden Girl, Buffy Summers.
Los Angeles was way bigger. There was actually a Council HQ there, along with a team of Slayers. It would be easier to get lost there. Give the Watchers a slip. Giles was too smart, and he managed to be one step ahead of her most of the time. He wasn't even her Watcher.
Her Watcher was dead.
Faith's slouch turned into a noticeable slump. It was a good thing Giles wasn't her Watcher. He might be an uptight pain in the ass, but Faith didn't want anything to happen to him. Not like what had happened to Diana.
"You should enjoy this, Slayer. I know I will." Kakistos smiled and his fangs gleamed.
Faith wanted to scream at him but no sound emerged when she opened her mouth. As she stood there, legs somehow trembling and unmoving at the same time, he turned to where Diana hung from the ceiling. His knife carved intricate patterns in her skin while Diana screamed. Faith's eyes closed and then immediately reopened. The screams were even worse when paired with her imagination rather than reality.
Drops of blood turned into a puddle. There were so many cuts on Diana that she was barely recognizable. Only her voice, now hoarse and broken from screaming, and her eyes seemed familiar.
Jumping from her chair, Faith fled the memories in long strides back and forth across the office. She had to get out of here. The door wasn't an option. There were two Retrieval Team members standing guard in the hallway. They couldn't take Faith in a fight, but she couldn't win against their tranquilizer guns. She changed course and hurried to the bank of windows on the far wall.
Damn it! Giles' office was on the third floor. There was only a small overhang and a complete lack of useful foliage. Slayer healing wouldn't repair shattered bone fast enough for her to make her escape. She was trapped. Her pacing resumed at a more frantic pace. If Giles didn't get here soon, she'd risk taking on the goons in the hall. Her thoughts summoned him. The door opened crisply, and Faith spun. "What the..."
"Be silent." Giles' crisp English accent gave his command more weight. Faith's hands clenched as she pressed her lips together. "I cannot believe tonight's report. Did we not have this same conversation earlier in the week?"
Instead of answering, Faith dropped into a chair and fixed her eyes on the shiny "Rupert Giles, Watcher" nameplate on Giles' desk. The room grew silent, and the weight of Giles stare settled on Faith's shoulder. She struggled against the sudden need to apologize. She'd done nothing wrong. The Council was too uptight.
Giles didn't break. He pulled another chair close to Faith and sat down. Waiting.
"It was one drink." Faith extended her feet and crossed her legs at the ankles. "One fucking drink." She would have had a lot more if the Retrieval Team hadn't shown up.
"I should not have to point out that you are underage." Clothes rustled as Giles leaned forward. "I know things have been difficult lately, my dear. Had you come to me, perhaps we could have found a more acceptable way for you to deal with recent events and to enjoy an evening on the town. What would have happened if someone in that bar had attacked you?"
Please. "I'm a Slayer, G-man." Faith enjoyed a brief flare of amusement at his grimace. "If anyone in the bar'd attacked me, they'd have been on the ground in seconds." Giles knew that. He was simply worried about the Council's reputation. He'd already lectured her on maintaining a "proper" decorum.
"That isn't the point, Faith, and you are well aware of that." He sighed and took off his glasses. Without the shielding lenses, Giles appeared tired. "Your sparring skills," Faith knew he meant brawling skills, "have never been in doubt. Your Watcher accounts were very complimentary in that regard. Accidents do happen, however. And human adversaries rarely follow the same traditions as demonic ones. Not even your Slayer abilities would defeat a bullet."
He peered short-shortsightedly at her, and Faith shifted uncomfortably. Giles' gaze was so kind. So concerned. She'd given him nothing but trouble from the minute she'd arrived in Sunnydale, and he still seemed to care. Faith wasn't used to that. She didn't understand it. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I guess... I guess I didn't think of that." Faith wasn't big on thinking. She was more comfortable with action. "What happens now?" Her latest escapade involved the Retrieval Team - and that made her screw up official. Giles wouldn't be able to hide it from the Council.
"I don't know." Faith might have hugged him for the lie if she did that sort of thing. "Quentin has already scheduled a call first thing in the morning to discuss options."
Quentin, the Senior Watcher on the Council. Faith's stomach did a slow roll. "It's going to be... I mean..." she couldn't even say the words "Judicial Punishment." There were three in her file already. Another one... Faith closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, praying she wouldn't puke.
"As I said, I do not know what Quentin will decide. I will recommend a period of house arrest with additional training in Slayer Comportment." Faith heard Giles stand up and reopened her eyes. "Please consider speaking with one of the Council psychologists, Faith." He must have noticed her stony expression because he nodded slightly. "We are all here to help you, Faith. If you do not wish to use official resources, I would be happy to offer my services. And Buffy has already spoken to me about acting as your mentor."
Why would they do that? Faith gazed back at Giles in confusion, unable to put her questions into words.
Giles walked over and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "Faith…"
"Don't touch me!" Faith reacted instantly. Slapping his hand away, she stood, putting her back to the desk and eyeing Giles warily.
He stepped back and held up both hands. "My apologies." Was that a hint of hurt in his voice?
Even though Faith regretted insulting Giles, she didn't respond. Her hands reached back and gripped the edge of the desk. She struggled to slow her breathing and hide the way her muscles jumped and twitched in reaction to the adrenaline rushing through her body.
"There is nothing more to be done tonight." Giles was all business now. Faith dropped her eyes so she wouldn't have to witness the loss of compassion in his gaze. She hadn't done anything to earn it anyway. "With your activities this evening a matter for the Council, I propose we do a spot of public relations campaigning. You will return to your quarters, change into your best outfit, and return to the Winter Social with me. You wanted a night away from the House," he said with grim humor. "You shall have one. And if your behavior is sterling enough, I may yet talk Quentin out of serious consequences."
Faith laughed. Giles must be drunk. "You think taking me to a party is going to help with that? Are there people at this party?" Unless it was a party of two – and Faith didn't think Lydia would let Giles even think about that – having Faith attend would be a nightmare. She managed to insult or irritate everyone she met without even trying.
"The other option is for you to actively participate in an emergency session with a Council psychologist tonight," Giles said firmly.
Actively participate. Faith didn't even hesitate. "I'll be ready in fifteen." Pushing away from the desk, Faith walked out of the office without once glancing at Giles. He'd won this round. Playing nice with the rest of the Council bigwigs and townies would suck, but Faith wasn't spilling her guts to a shrink.
The Retrieval Team officers followed her to the bedroom assigned to Faith in the Council's Sunnydale facility, a large three-story house near the university. Faith ignored them. She did leave the door open in invitation, though, as she changed into her best pair of tight black leather pants and matching vest. A quick touch up on the kohl around her eyes and a hair fluff completed Faith's preparation.
The whole process took minutes, and Faith beat Giles to the chauffeured car waiting outside the house.
The party tested Faith's resolve. It was lame. She hugged the back wall of the large room and thought longingly of the Jack and Coke she'd almost drank at the bar earlier. A good buzz might make the rest of the night tolerable.
Unfortunately, Giles had stationed himself nearby, and there were probably photo warnings of her at the bar. Faith wasn't getting anything alcoholic here.
"I like the look." Somehow, Buffy had snuck up on Faith. "The brooding loner, propping up the wall. Are you trying to attract a Dominant for the night? Or was this your latest attempt to scare us all away with your laser-like glare?"
"Must be the first, right? 'Cause you're here and not stumbling for the door in them stupid heels, B." Not that scaring Buffy had been a possibility. It had taken only a single sparring session to show Faith why her original Watcher had sung Buffy's praises. Buffy was wicked fast and far better trained. "You lookin' for something with more curves than the X-Man?"
She'd pushed too hard. Faith knew it the second she'd brought Xander into the conversation. Buffy moved so fast Faith didn't see her coming. A forearm to her throat held Faith pinned to the wall. "I'm trying very hard to remember why I like you. It's like you can't help yourself. One minute you're normal. Just another Slayer to hang out with, another sister in arms. And the next you're some bitch in heat I want to smack down." Buffy pressed close, her eyes blazing with fury and enough Dominance to make Faith squirm. "Don't make me smack you, Faith. You won't enjoy what happens."
Faith nodded as best she could. And the meek, clearly cowed, "Yes, Ma'am," that snuck out in response humiliated Faith. She wasn't afraid of Buffy, even if Buffy did wear her marker on the left.
Buffy peered into Faith's eyes for a long, tense moment. "Jesus, you make me mad sometimes." Releasing Faith, she took a few steps back and straightened the hem of her skirt. "If you can stop glowering, Willow needs our help. She babbled something about a woman on the floor and needing a doctor. Only I think Will lost her. I couldn't really understand. I promised to help, though. She was pretty upset."
It was difficult to ignore the ache in her throat without rubbing it. However, Faith wouldn't give Buffy the satisfaction of knowing she'd hurt her. "Sure. How we gonna know we found the right woman, though? If she ain't on the floor, she could be any of the women here."
"Um, we'll know her when we see her?" Buffy shrugged and rolled her eyes. "We could ask all the women if they want to file charges against a crazy red-haired menace." All her previous aggression faded into a gamin grin. "Want to bet Will won't want Janna to know about this latest accident?"
"And you called me a bitch. That's plain mean, B." Mean and funny. Faith waved to Giles and got his nod of approval before following Buffy as she wended her way through the crowd. There was no one lying on the floor, and no one stopped them to complain about being knocked over. However, Willow's red hair created a beacon for them to follow.
They finally ran her to ground after three tips around the large party room. "I don't understand, Buffy. She was right over there. I was going to ask Janna if she would dance with me and we ran into each other."
Faith figured the truth was probably closer to Willow mowing the missing woman down. Willow traveled at only one speed: supersonic. "What'd she look like, Red?"
"Well, there wasn't any blood. I didn't hit her that hard. She just fell over," Willow answered defensively.
"I don't think that's what Faith meant." Buffy took Willow's hand. "Calm down. We've been trying to find this woman for you. It would help if we know what she looked like. Was she tall? Heavy? What color was her hair? What was she wearing?" Proving she'd been a long-time friend, Buffy did a decent impression of Willow-babble as she spewed out questions.
Willow apparently only spoke Willow-babble. She stared at Buffy blankly until she managed to unravel what Buffy wanted to know. "Oh! She was blonde and young. Maybe our age. And she had this really cool, retro-60s style skirt."
That actually helped. Faith scanned the people in the room. Most of them were old. She started sorting out all of the blondes. Too old. Wearing jeans. Slayer. Slayer. Watcher.
When Faith spotted a woman fitting Willow's description, she grinned. Willow had some serious buzzard luck. "Hey, Red, is that her?" Pulling Willow in front of her and pointing across the room, Faith said, "There. The woman with Xander and your Gypsy."