Disclaimer: I own nothing. Allow me to re-emphasize that. I OWN NOTHING.

A/N: Okay, wow... months later... Sorry 'bout that. Things have been VERY hectic in my personal life. A lot to do with money, jobs ... etc. I have no forgotten this, it's just been put on the back-burner. I'm a few chapters ahead so that's good news, the bad news is... I seem to have ... uh ... *cough* lost my place. In the story yunno. Can't quite remember where it was supposed to go... but I have a plan. And an ending written. It's pretty sweet, and will change. Okay patient readers... what ever is left of you. Hopefully there is one left. Here goes nothing. PS: Here enters ANOTHER custom character. I love them so much. Mig and Lillian... :( I hope nothing bad happens to them... since I've treated Temperance and Dessa ... and Giselle and Carla ... oh so nicely.

Oh and for those who are getting annoyed (if there are any) with how little Faith there has been thus far... don't worry. She's right around the corner... and gloomy :(

Read on, and maybe review? Lemme know how badly I'm doing.

6

There was a gentle breeze which caused lace curtains to shudder, but only slightly. The window opened onto a sunset, clouds hung low and wispy around the sun, red poured across the land. A fading light filled a room that housed one dying soul, and an oil-lantern that would be lit at an appropriate time. The wind cooled the room effectively. Dark clouds hung in a spot far west of the stone house, the observers noted that it hadn't seemed to move in days.

A young woman with shorter, wavy hair entered quietly. Her eyes moved from the red sky to the bed. Faith, at least that was who they hoped it was, resided in the bed. They, Mig and the woman, had pulled her from a terrible fire that ravaged at least seven acres land, and only those acres. The woman had bandaged Faith to the extent that caused her to look like a mummy from some movie she had seen, at least from the neck down. An hour later the bandages proved useless, the woman had healed, but had not awoken. Not that awaking was likely. She, the woman, had removed Faith's burnt clothes and cleaned every wound on her ravaged body. She, the woman, had noted three peculiar holes on Faith's back, very tiny and very deep.

"A needle… shot from a pistol. Goddamn Dessa, she shot that girl three times. One, one shot would, should, have been enough! Mig… Mig, I don't know what will happen to her now…" She remembers saying and asking, hoping the Powers would give her a clue… an answer. None came from them.

"We wait and see. They've taken an interest. I am here… and you are alive, obviously they won't let her die. Yet." Mig answered cautiously. The woman nodded. Their conversation had occurred hours after their return, there had been no improvement from their guest.

The woman's hands run through her hair, she tries to put the thoughts of water and drowning out of her mind, she tries to focus on the woman in front of her. She should have been able to; her saviour was here… the woman who had been deemed important enough for the Power's to change a course of action was in front of her, and all she could think about was her own death.

"It was death… I am dead." She said, and then thought. I will be when my work is done…

Faith lay motionless, slightly propped up in bed (only slightly); her hair glistened in the fading light, her skin was pale, but still smooth and beautiful. No makeup was on her face, but one would not have been able to tell, she was preserved in time. A small grin remained on her face, a grin that should have been only a little part devious and a large part happy, but her grin suggested something very bad was occurring in her mind and this was her body's way of showing it. The woman had noticed that immediately, there was a wrinkle in Faith's brow that suggested that theory.

The woman knew she had a few more moments of silence, the sun was setting quickly and then Mig would grace her presence, and Faith never said anything. She took the time to reflect on the tough questions. Why me? Is it because it was my family? All her answers never suited the questions asked; she always came back to the same place, like her mind wasn't able to give up the solution. Every day since awaking wet, cold and sputtering she tried to remember what happened. She closed her eyes and desperately tried to remember again.

There was shouting, it was muffled. A deep voice commanded many. Smoke filled the air, and soon her lungs. Her wrists were chained together tightly behind her back. Heavy weights fitted to her ankles. Vague voices speaking unintelligible words. On good days, she wouldn't remember the crack her neck made as a tall, dark figure broke it swiftly. On bad days, she could remember that and the water that filled her lungs soon after.

As she was lost in memories, the sun had set. Mig was released from his curse once more and he stretched stiffly. Four-hundred years and he hadn't found a position that didn't leave him sore. Noticing that all the lights in the small house were off, he walked carefully, creeping though the shadows. It was something he had grown accustomed to. He had tried to remain as unnoticeable as possible for as long as possible. Hiding in the shadows worked well. He had been forced to break cover when he was offered a job. He had been forced to resurface to a world that housed many people that wanted him dead and would now be able to find him, all for a job. A job he now regretted taking.

Mig made his way to the room where they kept Faith. Prisoner. He wanted to call her that but couldn't, fearing the word and the implications it might have. He saw his friend's silhouette in the window.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you this morning… but I heard some rumours." He spoke normally; he knew he would not be able to wake Faith.

"Do tell." The woman spoke gently, not at all surprised by his sudden presence.

"One Rupert Giles and one Temperance Kane were spotted in a sleazy demon bar just north of London." She flinched at the name of her sister, it was involuntary, and still, after hearing her name daily for months, it was something she had not gotten used to.

"Why?" She asked quietly,

"They are looking for the Slayer… a Slayer. Faith."

"Can we expect company? Will they track her here?"

"Not unless the Power's want them here… and it seems that they don't. Given our roles."

"Which is what, exactly? I don't think I was ever given a job description. Yunno, all I got was a name, a date, time and place. And you." She grinned in the dark.

"I say thank you kindly for the mention." He bowed slightly. "You know that's all I got as well." He paused. His eyes wandered to the dark figure in the only comfortable bed in the house. "I think… they don't want her to wake up alone. Can you imagine? If she woke up in that burnt field… alone?"

The woman thought and was reminded immediately of how she awoke. Twenty feet below surface, which chains holding her down. Water filling her lungs. Her neck hurt insanely, and then… a white light engulfed her. The weights dropped from her legs and she kicked with all she could. Her first breath of air was half water, and the second resulted in painful coughing. She tread water for what seemed like hours trying to regain composure, eventually she was able to make it to shore, by the guiding hand of someone of great Power she assumed. She left Cape Town as fast as she could. A week later she was in Scotland, tracking Mig.

"Lillian?" He asked quietly. Maximilian Kane the Fifth. That is who I am. Now pay attention girl. "Hey, you alright?" Focus Lilly, come on now.

"Yeah, sorry. Bad memory."

"You remember anything more?" She had given him some basic information about her demise, and the events preceding it. She gave as much as he did.

"No. Nothing new. There's no chance of them finding us?"

"I won't lie and say there's none. But it is unlikely." There was a pause. "How are your hands?"

The topic of her burns was one that was broached gently. She had forgotten her gloves on the table before they left, they were running late and the event was something they could not afford to miss. They had pulled Faith from the fire a moment later then they should have. The fires had gotten very hot, they had taken measures to protect themselves and Faith (who seemed to be doing just fine avoiding any fire damage) but Lillian received burns to her hands.

"Healing, I think. I deserved it, I shouldn't have forgotten."

"Come on, I'll make supper. What'll you have?"

"Surprise me." Lillian, otherwise known as Maximilian Kane the Fifth, last born to a Father who swore that whatever the gender of the child would be named Maximilian Kane … middle name of the mother's choosing, was never surprised of the turn of events. Mig and Lillian ate whiskey that night.

Faith lay in silence, as she had done for the previous six nights. She looked to be at peace; almost everything about her suggested that very thing. It was wrong. Faith was not at peace, Lillian had seen that. The smile on her lips in conjunction with the small wrinkle in her brow showed that Faith was dealing with Hell. Faith was trying to wake up. Faith was trying to find a way out of the darkness once again.