Chapter 4

Faith slumped down slightly in the comfortable, very new, and very clean upholstered passenger seat of the black Lexus, a car of the likes that she had rarely seen in person before, let alone been asked to ride inside, clad in dirty thrice-worn clothing and all. Although her fingers lay motionless on her legs, tightly gripping her knees, and she did not bounce her legs restlessly by the balls of her toes, her eyes darted periodically, not quite able to settle as to whether they should be pointed in the direction of the window, out the windshield, at her lap, or to the form of the woman seated beside her behind the wheel. She shifted her weight, glancing at the woman quickly again as her mind ran with unchecked disbelieving thought.

This was all still so unreal. It seemed to her that one minute she had been peacefully sleeping with Legs curled at her side, and everything had been okay, even good. Okay, sure, she was sleeping behind a dumpster in February in Boston, and she couldn't let herself or Legs sleep for more than a couple of hours before they had to wake up and move around so they wouldn't freeze to death. Sure, she had to steal for food and shower in the gym and sleep with a switchblade to protect herself. Sure, she was only 14 and had no money, no birth certificate, no home, and no way short of prostitution, panhandling, or stealing of ever making a living for herself. And sure, she and Legs both constantly had colds, being and sleeping outside in the bitter Boston weather so often. But it hadn't mattered to Faith- none of that had been important. She was getting along, even thriving, and she was fine- better than fine. She was happy. She and Legs had each other's back, so she was happy.

Then one morning, one ten minute stretch of violence had changed everything, and here Faith was… arrested, jailed, separated from Legs, probably for forever, and now, out on bail, sitting in the swanky car of a middle-aged British woman who called herself a Watcher and informed Faith that she, Faith the Failure, Faith the Fuck Up, Faith the Federal Headcase, was some kind of important super hero… that she was a vampire slayer.

Well, not exactly that she was one, not yet, anyway. The Watcher woman- Diana, she had said her name was Professor Diana Dormer- had said that Slayers were usually "called" at age fifteen, that it was rare for them to become "chosen" at a younger age than that, or an older age than seventeen. But Faith could be one. Any day, at any time, especially between the ages of fifteen and seventeen, she could be called. Everything that she was- a freak, a loser, an unwanted, unloved, unnecessary bitch who had never done anything right in her life and had been told repeatedly that she should never have been born… all of it would be done away with, all of it would be gone, if she were ever to become a Slayer. Instead she would be needed, respected, admired, feared…and as hard a time as she was having believing it, Faith wanted it.

Professor Dormer's words to her in the jail's interrogation room kept replaying in Faith's head like a looped video track, the earnest intensity of her expression a continued visual in her mind. There was one Slayer in every generation, she had said…one girl chosen to fight off the monsters and vampires that FAith had never before even believed existed. It all sounded so ridiculous, so much so that Faith had blurted out incredulously that the woman must be high or insane. But she had been very serious, and the array of files, ancient scary-looking books, and photos of some of the ugliest rat-faced things Faith had ever seen before weakened her disbelief just a little. Unless this was the biggest hoax or trap Faith could ever dream of- and she hadn't entirely ruled that out as a possibility yet- this Dormer woman was for real…or so she thought, anyway.

And now here she was, bailed out of jail for who knows what huge sum of money, in the car with a stranger, one with a British accent and way too school marmish of a vibe…and this woman said she was taking Faith to live with her in New York, that she was going to take care of her now…that she was Faith's guardian. Faith could not even begin to understand how this had happened.

She sniffled, clearing her throat quickly, and hoped her nose wasn't going to start running as she glanced over at the woman again, scrutinizing her expression and appearance for the hundredth time in silence, eyes narrowed slightly. Diana Dormer was probably in her early forties, with medium length brown hair pulled into a bun and startling pale eyes. She was dressed in a tweed pantsuit and looked to Faith to be very stuffy and very, very British…why the hell would she want HER? Was it just this duty thing that went with the Watcher gig she had eluded to? This meant that Faith was even more in her debt than she was already for the bail, that Faith owed her something, and Faith hated that.

The woman had tried to talk with her a few times, but Faith had kept her answers as short as possible, partly from a continued sense of shock as to her situation and a resulting lack of ability to pull her thoughts together very coherently, and partly because she was still too wary of her to want her to know too much about her. Professor Diana Dormer seemed to sense this and so allowed silence to fall between them, not pushing Faith to speak, as she drove her towards what she had stated was her, now THEIR, home in New York.

Still watching her subtly, sneaking glances when she thought she wasn't looking, Faith sniffed again, trying to quietly clear her throat. It had been sore for days, along with coughing and a runny nose; Legs had had the same, and they had shrugged it off as another cold or mild virus, nothing major. Still, it was irritating; some of the aches of her body and the weariness of her bones Faith could attribute to stress and the extremely physical confrontation she had taken part in earlier in the day, but not all. Plus, if she had to wipe her nose on her sleeve in front of this rich woman in her rich woman car…Faith wasn't really sure why it bothered her to think of that, but it did.

Legs wouldn't have cared. But then, Legs would never have been in this situation. Legs would never have let herself be caught by the police. Legs had run.

Faith's jaw tensed at the thought of Legs, and she desperately attempted to redirect her mind from the pain that compressed her chest as a result. As she was concentrating, her throat choked, and for a second she tensed, preparing to stifle a cough. She had misjudged, however, and instead she sneezed loudly, twice.

"There are tissues in the glovebox," the woman, Diana Dormer, said quietly, and Faith reached to open it without looking at her, her ears reddening, to her own self-disgust. What did she care what the woman thought of her?

She sneezed again, into the tissue this time, and blew her nose, then clinched her jaw, turning her face towards the window. She felt for some reason like she should apologize, but that in turn made her feel even more stupid for thinking she should do so. Professor Dormer was quiet for a few minutes, but Faith felt her eyes on her briefly and knew the woman was appraising her.

"I suppose anyone would become ill, sleeping under the conditions that you have been," she said quietly, and though her words were neutral, Faith's eyes shifted to her quickly, attempting to discern whether it was disgust, lecturing, pity, or sympathy in her tone. It was difficult for her to tell. "Tomorrow, Faith, you will undergo a full physical to make sure that steps will be taken to make you as strong and healthy as possible. For tonight you can take some vitamin C supplements, some form of relieving medication, and then I suppose starting you on regular, nourishing, and well-balanced meals will help as well."

Faith had outright stared at her at that statement; though the words had not been spoken in what one might think of as a motherly tone, the words themselves were to her ears a shock to her system. She could not fathom why this woman was acting like she cared. Duty or not, she hadn't had to bail her out of jail- she hadn't had to do any of this, and she certainly hadn't had to care about her having a freaking cold. It wasn't like she was dying. Whatever the woman said by way of explanation, Faith found this to be totally inexplicable. And despite all of the woman's words to her at the jail, about fate and duty and what a freaking special girl Faith was- something Faith flatly refused to accept as true, regardless of what freaky fortune she may or may not have- despite any of this, Faith was still wondering what the catch was…and the nearer they drew to what this woman claimed was her home, the more apprehensive she grew. She expected almost fully to pull into an orphanage, prison, juvenile center, or brothel- any of the above would make more sense than a British woman she'd never seen in her life before proclaiming that she was maybe a superhero and that she wanted to basically adopt her as her much less plucky and winsome orphan Annie substitute.

Perhaps the woman- Faith still wasn't sure exactly what she was supposed to be calling her, but she sure as hell wouldn't be calling her Mom even if she had just basically adopted her- could sense Faith's line of thought or see it in her face, because she looked over at her with a slight smile. It looked to Faith a little weird, like it was genuine but somewhat strained, like maybe she was sort of uncomfortable too. Whether that was because she was British and had a stick up her ass like most of that group, wasn't used to being around teenagers, or just didn't like having a scruffy, literally snotty 14-year-old who'd been arrested for practically beating a couple of grown men to death sitting in her fancy clean car and coming home with her was anyone's guess. Faith couldn't blame her for carrying any of those reasons; they were all pretty valid.

She hoped she didn't smell or anything; she hadn't been able to take a shower since the day before. Then she wondered why she cared; she was the one who didn't know what she was getting into here, while Professor Diana Dormer seemed to hold all the answers.

"I know that all of this must be quite bewildering to you," the woman said quietly, occasionally glancing over to watch Faith before turning her eyes back to the road. "Today has been quite the day of change for you, hasn't it?"

Faith let her shoulders twitch into a shrug; she couldn't have explained why, but she felt that it was important, at least for today, at least until she got a better understanding of the exact situation, that she talk and respond as little as possible to the woman. Still holding the balled-up tissue in her hand, she tried to wipe her nose again discreetly, turning her face and hoping the woman didn't see. When she made no verbal reply, Professor Dormer sighed slightly, speaking again a few moments later.

"I am certain you must be tired, and you are clearly unwell also."

Shit, so she probably had noticed that Faith's nose was still leaking like a damn faucet.

"I imagine it would be somewhat intimidating as well, for a young girl to find herself-"

"I'm not afraid of you or anything you think you could do to me," Faith said quickly, unable to let that comment go by in silence, and she turned her head hurriedly to eye the woman with narrow-eyed wariness, not wanting her to view her as anything less than unflappably unfrightened, as totally collectd and uninterested…even though her mouth was dry, her heart knocking too quickly in her chest for her comfort. The woman continued smoothly, as if she had expected this response.

"I am glad to hear that, Faith, because no Slayer should fear her Watcher. It is our job to guide her and teach her, to care for her and about her, and if there is any fear in the relationship at all, it should be the Watcher fearing FOR her Slayer- but not so much that he or she hinders her in her growth or duty. You see, Faith, whenever there is fear in a relationship of any kind, there can be no trust. It is trust above all else that should exist between a Slayer – or potential Slayer- and her Watcher…or between a young woman and her guardian."

She paused for a few moments, her eyes sliding over to regard Faith once again, and then said quietly, "It is my hope, Faith, that such trust will eventually be founded between us. I understand it will take time and effort on both our parts, and I realize with the…difficulties…in your life that you have doubtless encountered, it will not be easy. But I do hope that you will eventually understand and believe that I will always care for you as much as I am able to- and that is not strictly out of duty of my position."

As if realizing what a speech she had made and perhaps slightly embarrassed of the sincerity in her words and tone, Professor Dormer returned her attention to the road, allowing silence to settle between them. Faith frowned slightly, her words sticking with some discomfort in her mind. She didn't know how to respond, so she said nothing, turning her head to watch out the window, letting the outside world blur past her as they passed. She had sounded genuine, but then, even when people really meant what they said, or thought they did, that didn't mean that it would happen. Faith more than anyone knew that.

She wanted to lean her head back, to curl her legs up on the seat and close her eyes, but she didn't dare. She would not let herself be less than totally alert. Instead she continued to stare out the window, letting her mind run with thought and hurriedly pushing aside any unwelcome ones that occurred, and Faith waited, dreading yet also somewhat curious as to what was to come.