She sweltered in the afternoon. It was over a hundred degrees, easy, and the air was drier than it had any right to be, even in the middle of the desert. There was a good reason most people waited until night to go out in Vegas. And it wasn't just the lights that shone down the Strip as you drove down that famous street of casinos.

She passed the Monte Carlo and the MGM. She looked longingly at a bar called the Devils Nest before passing that as well, and she continued on past a pyramid, a pirate ship, the Eifel tower and what looked like the Statue of Liberty's little sister. It all looked sad, now that the sun was up, and you could actually see them. Sort of tacky, the glamour faded under the light of the day.

She didn't know what she was looking for, exactly. Maybe a place to get out of the heat for a bit, maybe a nice guy who just won big and needed a pretty girl to spend it on, maybe find a party and have some fun, maybe get drunk, maybe anything. She'd come here thinking it was the perfect place for her. She was wrong. Everything was superficial, nobody knew anyone and all contact was completely meaningless and empty. Same as the excitement once the newness of it all wore off.

She needed a bit of that, if she was going to run her own game. She didn't want people smothering you all the time, but sometimes, it was nice to have something else as well. When the chips were down, or you just needed to talk about nothing, she needed something to rely on. She sighed, and stuck a thumb out. She couldn't remember the way back to the hotel, so she'd have to take a lift. She'd have one more night on the Town, hopefully meet someone interesting, then go… somewhere else. She felt good about East. East seemed the way to go from here.

Alone. That one word seemed to sum up every event in her entire, too short life. Everything she had done, she had done it alone. Everything she had been through, she'd been through it alone. Since the day she was born she was destined for loneliness.

And what's worse, she couldn't even blame someone else. She'd had chances and managed to ruin them all. She always trusted the wrong people, always made the wrong choices and driven her friends away. And now here she was. The second Slayer. The fifth wheel. No, not even that anymore, with all the slayers popping up everywhere she was part of the chosen many, the army of thousands. There were more Slayers appearing every day, far more then had been expected, and apparently the new Watchers Council was at wits end trying to draw them all together, for training or whatever.

Good luck with that. Forgive her if she misses the party. She's spent her whole career in Buffy's shadow; if Buffy still wants a sidekick then good for her, she can get her backup from elsewhere. One of the rest of her army, they'd probably be queuing for consideration. But Faith has places to be, and she means to go and find out where they are.

Wesley's job offer had come next, and that had been even easier. Wolfram and Hart. Nobody at school had ever said anything about her being a lawyer one day, that sort of thing didn't happen to white trash in the deep South, but somehow she doubted it was place she'd be comfortable. And anyway, the offer was for politeness sake, and she knew it. If they needed muscle they could buy it by the metric tonne, and the rest of the job, well maybe sucked was too strong a word, but damned if she could think of another one to describe her proficiency or interest in any part of what she did beyond the fighting.

It wasn't that she wanted to stay alone, it's just that it was easier to be on the edge. Friends were only good if you had plenty of space as well, or you end up defining yourself by the people you are dependent on. No, somewhere in America there was a sunny little hellhole that needed a champion, and maybe if she kept out of the light, she'd pass for one.

She waved her outstretched hand a few times, and waited for a lift. She never had to wait long. The first car drove straight past – the driver gave her a look of longing but his girlfriend was in the car beside him, and he didn't want the trouble picking up a pretty girl would cause. The next one stopped.

"I'm going to the Western Nellis Motel." She says, giving him a smile she almost felt. "Near the strip."

"Not too far out of my way. Get in." He says back. Faith liked him already – he wasn't staring too brazenly, he was in good shape, polite and the car was well cared for. In his mid-thirties, but the age difference didn't bother her. She even toyed for a few moments with the idea of giving him her number, before she remembered she'd have left Las Vegas by tomorrow and she doesn't have a phone anyway.

She was still a wanted criminal, though Wesley had offered to get her off the hook completely. She doesn't have a phone for obvious reasons. She then considered just tossing subtle aside and going home with him, but he clearly had somewhere to be and she wasn't really in the mood for sex this early. She liked sex, but it wasn't a dependency, and it was never any good when she felt like this anyway.

It's amazing how easy it is to get away with being a wanted criminal if you don't act like one, and didn't mind doing without a few things she'd never really had anyway. After Sunnydale was reclaimed by the earth she'd asked Angel for a favour. Wesley had sent her a new identity, passport, license, even birth certificate and enough money to live comfortably for a couple of years. As long as nobody inspected them too closely or checked her fingerprints she should be alright. That was when the job offer had arrived, but she hadn't even considered it. She liked Wes, and she wanted the best for him, but there was nothing for her there. She was done working for people. She hadn't even visited, figuring if she did there'd never be a clean break. She wanted to build her own life somewhere else, and to do that she'd have to start on her own.

If she went over there, she'd just become a member of team Angel. They were good people, but she'd rather be team Faith.

Of course, she had to decide where team Faith was going to operate first. No luck on that regard yet, though maybe Las Vegas wasn't the best place to start. For one thing, everything cost three times as much as anywhere else, for another once you got over the gambling and drinking and easy access to sin, there was nothing to do that you couldn't do better anywhere else.

"So." The driver says, by way of conversation, "Who're you here with?"

She blinked, realizing she'd been practically daydreaming, then remembered she didn't care. Then, she decided to answer anyway, for want of something better to do. "Solo act at the moment. Haven't seen my friends in a while" Faith replies, not really listening, her mouth running on automatic. She's looking out the windshield vaguely, wondering where she's going next. There was nothing at the hotel to do besides Cable, the pool was being drained and she didn't know anyone else. This would have to be a quick stop, until she thought of something. Which hopefully would not be going out and wandering the streets again.

"Trying to get lucky then?"

"I don't know yet. I guess something like that."

He tries to make conversation a few more times, and continues to draw blank. At last he gives up and drops her off at the motel, next to the car park. She thanks him, and gives him a smile, then walks up the stairs, past the empty pool and along the little balcony around the rooms.

It's probably the priciest place she's ever stayed. Isn't that sad?

She passes her room, then makes her way into the front office and sighs in satisfaction at the controlled coolness brought about by the air conditioner. Bliss.

She goes to the desk and gets her key, then back out along the staircase, back to her room. She's not tired yet, so she'll watch T.V until she is, maybe have a shower and just watch the time pass by. Maybe she should get a hobby or something, this isn't anyway to live, watching the seconds tick past and waiting for opportunity to catch up with her.

She misses Slaying. It gave her a purpose in life, a direction, a reason for being. And yet, since the battle, she's ignored her calling, too busy looking for a place to belong.

Then she stops, finding herself suddenly brought out of her shell and hyper aware of the world around her. There wasn't anything to see, the pool was empty but for a few stray leaves on the bottom and a yellowish stain around the rim, the doors were locked and the blinds down, and she was alone. But she feels something wrong, some tingling down her spine. A premonition.

If there is one thing being a slayer has taught her to respect, it's her instincts, her intuition. Something is nearby, and probably means her harm. They always do.

She opens her door, the key getting stuck in the lock as she tried to turn it the wrong way, then sliding open. She locks her door when she leaves her room, but doesn't bother much more with security, figuring she didn't have anything to steal that you couldn't get anywhere else with less effort. Still, she doubted who or whatever it was had any plans on going after Faith. Nobody knew she was here, and she hadn't actually killed and demons since… she didn't even know. And so, if the door was still locked, nothing could have gotten into her room.

False alarm then. She feels a little disappointed, she could do with something to take her mind off self pity, and there was no better cure then violence and plenty of it. Stepping over her threshold, she yawns, stretches like a cat, switching the lights on automatically, then suddenly focuses. There is somebody waiting for her in her room afterall.

He's a bit above average height, maybe six feet. Taller than her, anyway. He has blond hair like spun gold, that frames his face in curls that she's slightly jealous of, and he has piercing blue eyes. At least, they look blue to her, anyone more interested would probably wax eloquent to describe them but she really can't be bothered. His face is pretty good as well, if you liked that sort of thing. His mouth is too big and his nose to narrow to call him conventionally handsome, but you could do worse. It's extremely animated, constantly changing expression or drinking in some new detail.

He seemed very happy to see her. That was nothing new, guys were always happy to see her in her experience, which was considerable. But she's a Slayer, and those aren't the details she's interested in. They're not even the details she notices first. He's pale. In the fluorescent lighting he's almost white as bleached bone. He's cold. And he's dressed in the sort of expensive new age romantic getup that only one sort of being would wear, and a desperate one at that. And even though they are three stories up, he came in through the window.

"Vampire." She sinks into a fighters crouch, hands clenching into fists and raising to protect her face. Motel, on reflection, was a bad idea. No real threshold. She should have gone with a bed and breakfast or something. Even that guy's place, whateverhisname.

The vampire spreads his arms, leaving himself open and drawing attention to the fact that he's unarmed, his face alight and welcoming, though given it's her room that seems a little wrong. He didn't do emotions by halves., that was for sure. "I mean you no harm." He says. "I just want to talk."

"Nothing to worry about there, it isn't going to be me getting hurt." Faith quips back, wishing she had a stake. A strange thing, how easy it was to improvise a stake and kill a vampire. It was like the universe worked against them, the way they would meet their end in unlikely ways. A table leg, a bed post, a bit of broken door, anything. On that tangent, she stress around. No such luck, cast iron furniture. She'd have to improvise.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Such barbarity. How little you know about us. You see us hunting in the night and think you've learned all there is to know. You don't know our culture, our custom, our civilization." He says. "You do not understand the Courts, the good we do, the world we dwell in, not so far apart from your own. While some of us are animals, many of us are artists and poets of the finest calibre. We are lovers and music makers, singers of songs and dreamers of dreams."

Faith rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, you got me mixed up with B. She gets off on the whole lack of pulse thing and shacks up with the dead, I just stake you once and call it a night." she replies, walking towards him. There is a cross and holy water on the table beside her bed, and while she doesn't have any stakes whittled in preparation (she's here as Faith Lehane, party girl. Not Faith Lehane, vampire slayer) she figures with those things she can probably kill him, unless he's much tougher then he looks. And that seems unlikely, if the get-up was anything to go by. Second-raters dressed like that. The real dangerous vampires kept up to date with current styles, or simply dressed however they wanted and bugger the rest of the world.

"And so eagerly do you kill us. A valkyrie, a warrior woman like no other, a veritable goddess of destruction. And yet, killing is all you do. I'd almost call it a curse, your burden."" His voice is slightly rough, and deeper then before. He's aroused. What's more, he thinks he's being subtle about it.

Then again, Faith wasn't a subtle girl.

"So eager to kill us, yet you do not even know why I came here, or who I am. You have not asked my reasons for seeking out you, or asked if any crimes burden my conscience. You did not even ask my name. To you, my mere existence is sufficient reason to inspire murder. And yet, you claim I am the one at fault."

Good point that. How did he get here? Sun is up and with a vengeance. "I know it's pretty god damn weird to suck people's blood." She replies, for want of anything better to say. "Besides, I go through your type so quick a name would only confuse us both and you'd get clingy, catch my drift?" She's almost in reach of the table now…

He ignores her. "It is necessary for us to kill to survive. We have a single purity of purpose, a singular drive. We are the kindest of tyrants, you yourself consume the living in order to sustain yourselves. But life is a fragile thing, a savage garden where the strong feed on the weak, all for the greater-"

"Look, eating people isn't a lifestyle choice. You're a vampire, so I kill you. That's the way it works. Deal with it." She says, already frustrated with him. For god sakes, would it kill him to shut up? Or perhaps she just had to kill him to shut him up.

That in mind she grabs the Holy water and tosses it at him in an under-arm toss, grabbing the cross in her other hand and holding it up to ward him away.

He blurred, and caught the jar broke harmlessly, which then shattered in his hands, the class cutting into the meat. Unfortunately, that was the extent of the damage, which healed almost instantly. He didn't hiss or recoil in pain, start smoking or otherwise react violently to it. The water simply ran down him, soaking into his prissy clothes and then onto the floor, pooling around his feet. He was completely untouched. He takes a moment to straighten his jacket, then looks at her again. "Is my presence really so distasteful to you?" He says, walking towards her, hands in pockets. "So utterly unpalatable that you already resort to murder?"

Man, he really couldn't get a hint. Faith twists, throwing a kick in his midsection, then twisting to drive her elbow into the side of his neck. Vampires are hard to kill, yes, but their body still functions. They still have nerves, pressure points, and arteries. Their organs might not do anything, but a kidney punch still caused them blinding pain. And while they can heal most wounds, if you do enough damage they'll go down. "Just because you use long words, you aren't necessarily smart. Just saying."

He steps smartly to the left, avoiding her outstretched foot, then catches her forearm, his body as immovable as steel. "Lets not fight simply because it is easier then conversation." He says, unhanding her, the sudden change of balance causing her to stagger back a step.

That was unexpected. She looks up at him, suddenly more focused on the fight. Looks like he knew a thing or two after all. He had the advantage, and he'd done nothing with it. She didn't trust that. Not in the least.

"I simply have questions I would be very much grateful if you could take the time to answer. I am inquiring about -" He steps back, dodging a roundhouse punch, then a kick between his delicates, catches her fist almost negligently, then a head-butt catches him in the nose, breaking it with a spray of blood and a crunch of cartilage. Fighting fair was only playing to type. She fought to win.

The broken nose didn't even phase him. He just straightened it, then looked down at his waistcoat distastefully. The blood had ruined the silk, despite the wound having already healed the clothes were done. Faith felt a sudden wave of satisfaction at having destroyed his ridiculous attire, and get the sort of reaction she wanted out of him.

"I assure you, madam, there is no need for this. My intentions are strictly honourable. I simply wish you to tell me what you did…"

She kicked him again, sending him staggering back to hit the wall, cracking the plaster. Without giving him a chance to recover, she kicked him, again and again and again, her army boots crashing into him, each blow sending him through the render and plasterboard, crunching it and filling the air with white dust. The wall broke before he did, sending him crashing out of the room and to fall three stories to the ground, in direct sunlight. Except he didn't fall.

He was hovering, flying under his own power. His feet were planted on nothing at all, and yet he stood, in defiance of gravity, still facing her. Now that was impressive.

He was in the sunlight, but he wasn't burning. Smoking, but the actual ignition seemed to be passing him by. "Well, if you will not cooperate I suppose I have no choice but to threaten you. I will ask you one last time to either talk to me, or…"

A gunshot echoed through the air. Faith tensed, expecting a familiar feeling, but apparently it wasn't aimed at her. The Vampire shudders, a red hole appearing in his left shoulder as the bullet punches into his back and out the other side, exiting messily. He starts to turn, only for more bullets to thump into him like hammer blows, sending him reeling. Apparently, flight takes concentration, because he drops, crashing to the ground and bouncing once, a sickly crack making it plain that his body did indeed feel the fall.

Two men were standing by the roadside, beside an old- fashioned Chevrolet Impala, still in good knick despite being as old as the hills. They are young, good-looking, both about her age. One was tall and well built, his hair short, his face narrow and well formed. The other was thinner, his hair messy. They were alike enough to be unable to be anything but brothers, and they had a hard look about them, one she was well versed in. Anyone who lived the sort of life she was stuck with looked like that.

Faith doesn't spare her comrades more then a glance. She's focussed, concentrating on the fight. She leaps after him, hurtling out the window, then pushes off the wall at the last moment, altering the direction of her momentum and hitting the ground running, cross still in her hands.

He might have two bullets in him and a broken leg, but this vampire had some mongrel in him. He raises his head, like a predator who has just sensed the arrival of something bigger and more dangerous then he is. Then he gets to his feet swinging, but she blocks his fist with her forearm then breaks his nose with her forehead again, knocking him over and driving the cross into his chest as a kind of impromptu stake in the same movement. The cross doesn't go in easy, but she puts her weight behind it and it slides into his flesh.

Lestat de Lioncourt gapes a moment, shocked at this sudden and unexpected ending, then falls to his knees. Blood slides out in a trickle, not the ocean one would expect, whatever kept him moving was more magical then physical. His shoulders slump, then he sags forward. And then, suddenly, the clothes are collapsing, crumpling in on themselves, drifting down onto the side of the road, empty but for that thin trickle.

She looks at the clothes a moment. The cravat is still knotted. The silk shirt is still beneath the waist coat and jacket, and still tucked into the pants. There is teeth, and hair, and nothing else. Death had dissolved him.

Faith steps over the clothes. That usually happened, it would past unnoticed. Indeed, she'd be surprised if they were still here in a few minutes. She kicks the jacket, as if to make sure it really was empty, then turns to look at the two men who'd fired at the vampire.

"I take it one of you can fill in the blanks." She says, tilting her head a little for a better look. She likes what she sees. "Because personally? No idea what the hell is going on."