Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! I just want to take this time to remind anyone reading that the story narration is colored by the POV of whoever is the focus at a given time. This is to say, it's the character in question making these statements, I don't necessarily agree with them.

Also, chapter title is a Beck song.

Chapter 4: Pay No Mind

Faith Daniels was sickeningly bored. For what felt like the thousandth time that afternoon alone, she cursed the American justice system's penchant for rehabilitation over incarceration. At least in prison she could have had the potential excitement of a gang war. Or at least a good brawl with an over-zealous prison lesbian.

She apprehensively glanced across the spacious lobby toward the rich bitch Kennedy from the corner of her eye.

'Never mind. Get enough of that here.'

The hell Faith currently found herself in was Sunnydale Oaks Rehabilitation Center located just to the east of the painfully small town of Sunnydale. Although at this point, it probably would have felt like a throbbing metropolis.

Faith was only two weeks into treatment following her rather unfortunate D.U.I. incident. For two weeks, she had been cooped up with a score of recovering fuck-ups much like herself and forced to make nice.

Not that she actually went so far as to make pleasantries with anyone.

She grumbled from her position on one of the squishy chairs in the lobby. The late afternoon sun was streaming in through the high windows facing the front of the main building.

'May as well go for a run.'

Before leaving her perfectly good life in Los Angeles, Faith had never felt particularly compelled to exercise. She found herself blessed with a body made for hard living. She was curvy in all the right places, but tough where it was necessary. She could hold her own in whatever trouble she usually found herself, and that was good enough for her. Minimal maintenance was required.

But at Sunnydale Oaks, Faith often found disappearing into the forest surrounding the center one of the few ways she could escape from the ever-present, mind-numbing boredom. Racing along the wooded paths at breakneck, muscle-wrenching speed was the only time she could remember what it was to be free.

When she made the mistake of letting her newfound hobby slip to Buffy, one of the counselors, she was annoyingly supportive.

'"That's great, Faith! It's good to find something that centers you."'

'What a crock of shit.'

She stretched when she stood, pulling her arms over her head so her ample breasts stood out. She could feel Kennedy's eyes on her figure from afar.

'Oh yeah . . . Still got it.'

She inwardly winced.

'Not that I want . . . It.'

It was really nothing against her fellow twenty-one-year-old patient. Kennedy was certainly a beautiful girl, but chicks had never been up Faith's ally.

And anyway, nympho-Kennedy was one of the most annoying people mistakenly allowed to live. When she wasn't trying to fuck any moderately living object in her general area, she was filling space with constant chatter about her former charmed life.

'Rich bitch,' Faith interiorly reiterated.

She made her way up the large wooden staircase toward her room. The second floor hall sported a balcony that ran the length of the lobby it overlooked.

Down below, the entrance doors opened on two of the center's counselors, lost in quiet conversation. The tiny blonde explaining something with small, emphatic gestures to accompany her hushed tones was Buffy Summers. She was a typical do-gooder, young and naïve in Faith's eyes. They were probably around the same age, and Faith got the impression she still had confidence in the innate goodness of humanity and her patients in particular.

'Poor thing,' she thought mirthlessly.

But really, the object of far more interest was in the man walking alongside Buffy.

Robin Wood moved with a languidity that did nothing to betray his massive form. With his head slightly bowed, he answered his employee in low dulcet tones that wafted up the rafters.

Faith tried ever-so casually to glance over the railing as she walked the long way to her room. Unconsciously, the speed of her strides slowed. Today, Wood was wearing dark slacks that did impossible wonders for his ass, and a crisp white buttondown with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his strong, deep brown forearms.

'Tall, dark, and luscious.'

She thought his deeply set brown eyes flicked up in her direction, but she couldn't be sure.

What she did witness was Kennedy's blatant perusal of the walking counselors. Faith could see the little slut's body language change as she sat up straighter, abandoning the issue of Cosmo which rested on her lap. Even from the second story, Kennedy's wide-eyed hungry gaze that raked over the twosome was apparent.

Faith had to fight the urge to growl, then rolled her eyes at her own bitter reaction.

'Looks like she's not the only wanton bitch in heat in this joint.'

Slapping herself for her pathetic display, she slipped out of her trance and hurried to her room, which she was unfortunate enough to share with the mousey Amy.

Said roommate nearly fell off her bed as she yelped loudly, surprised at Faith's raucous entrance.

'You'd think she'd be used to it by now . . .'

Amy played the role of a good cokehead well, even sober. The girl was endlessly twitching, moreso around Faith, who seemed to terrify the young girl.

"Oh -- hey Faith," Amy squeaked, doing a piss-poor job of playing off her frightened outburst.

Faith grunted a reply but made no other acknowledgment of the girl's existence. She kicked the door shut behind her and drew her clingy top over her head. Amy awkwardly looked to the side.

They had been living together since Faith got sent to rehab, but Amy was still unused to her exhibitionist personality.

"So have you heard?," she was talkative today. Must be pretty lonely. "There's a new guy coming today."

"Oh yeah?" Faith questioned, clearly uninterested as she rummaged for a t-shirt in her drawers.

"Yep. Clem overheard Wesley and Buffy talking about it after group this morning," Amy was still not able to look at Faith, who had turned a hand to her jeans as she changed.

Faith snorted as she yanked her gym shorts up. "Well I'll be sure to wish him luck in the hell he's coming into." With that, she grabbed her running shoes and strolled out of the room, leaving Amy to turn forlornly back towards the window.

Sure, Amy was annoying and remarkably uninteresting, but Faith did not truly dislike the girl. But entertaining her in frivolous gossip and giving her the attention she so obviously craved would only encourage clinging. Faith had absolutely no intention of making friends during her forced stay.

It was her prison; a place where she came to serve her time, and she was determined not for it to mean anything more.

'Besides, if she's really hard-up, Kennedy's always up for companionship.' She snickered quietly to herself.

When she came to a side exit, she noticed a very nice vintage car pulled up to the front of the drive. Nonchalantly, she walked through the outskirts of the woods nearer to the vehicle.

Two men were standing outside of it, looking withdrawn with their heads bowed low. One, a brunette and quite tall, kept nervously running his hand through his carefully quaffed hair. He stole glances at the other man at regular intervals.

The other looked far and away less conventional than his counterpart. He wore heavy boots and dark clothes, and most noticeably, a long leather duster -- ridiculous in the heat of the California August they were experiencing. A shock of platinum blonde hair, curled and disarrayed, donned his head like a crown. Even with his unkempt locks, he looked every bit the punk rocker his image so obviously screamed.

For whatever reason, Faith's quick observation did not sate her curiosity well enough, and she quietly made her way a bit closer.

The brunette looked decidedly uncomfortable, and whatever he was saying was done so in an almost forced reassuring tone. The expression on his handsome face was pained. He looked guilty.

The punk looked different at a closer range. Faith could now identify his striking facial features more easily. He was pale, with an angular form that followed his body into the curves of his face. He had a gloomy expression which made him look even more haggard. His lifestyle probably made him look older than he actually was.

His hands -- trembling slightly as they plucked a cigarette dangling from his lips -- betrayed him for what he was. His overly thin frame and the dark circles around his eyes completed the look.

He stood quietly while his companion rambled on, squinting against the harsh light of the sun.

Faith had seen enough. Obviously, this was the newcomer Amy had mentioned. She would meet him soon enough, and promptly ignore him just as she did every other person in rehab.

'Good luck, new guy,' she thought as she quietly stole off among the trees.

She did glance back once more before they were completely removed from her line of sight.

'You'll need it.'

TBC

Author's Note: Review, why don't you? ;)