Okay...so apparently a lot of people are liking Sarah. I agree, she's more in tune with her I-like-girls quality than Buffy is, which makes her all the more likeable. But of course, I'm also a devout Buffy/Faith person.

I need a show of hands. Or reviews. Whatever. Let me know what y'all want. I can always alter a few things, if needed.

If it's a draw, I'm going with what I originally planned. So you, reader, need to do the following:

1. Review this chapter and

2. a. Write the pairing you prefer or

b. Just tell me you want to see what I've got in store.

Your choice.

Months. It's been months.

3 months, to be exact.

"Boston, Massachusetts." Willow sounds surprised.

Dawn isn't sure if she should jump for joy or panic.

"We're going in, right?" Kennedy asks.

"We're bringing her back, right?"

Dawn pulls the letter from Willow's extended hand, while the Wiccan speaks.

"I guess. I mean, I don't know if she'd want us to arrive at her doorstep after a year and a half, but it's manageable."

"Send the word to the Slayer Council there. Ask if they know anything, and tell them we'll be there. I expect a place for us to start." Buffy says.

No. Orders.

"I'm not quite sure this is a good idea, Buffy."

"No. I'm done waiting, Giles. I'm done doing nothing and pretending she doesn't exist when she needs to be with her friends. With us. You don't have to go, but I'm going." Buffy is adamant. She needs to go.

Kennedy steps in. So does Willow. So does Xander. So does a reluctant Giles.

Which leaves Dawn.

"Dawnie?"

She is unsure. She is a little frightened.

"I need to read the letter first. I need to see if she's okay."

They nod.

She retreats to her room.

Dear Dawn,

Guess where I'm all shacked up?

(Boston?)

Well, you wouldn't believe me if I told you, but it's pretty fucking complicated. Not that it matters.

(But it always mattered.)

I mean, it's not like the love of my fucking life is gonna show up out of nowhere at my fucking doorstep or nothing. So fuck if any of this matters.

(Someone's in for a big surprise, Dawn thinks.)

Listen, I think I might stay here for a while, so I'll write the return address at the bottom. Maybe we can actually talk without having it be one-way, yea? I already picked up a job as a freaking bartender. I was thinking about being a stripper - lots more cash, less time - but Sarah wouldn't let me.

(Who the hell is Sarah?!)

She kinda looks after me and vice versa.

Anyways, I'm still up and running, in case you thought I just fucking fell and died somewhere. It's hard. You have no fucking idea how hard this is. I slay, I eat, I sleep, I fuck, I slay, eat, sleep, fuck...

Shampoo. Rinse. Repeat.

Fucking vicious cycle. That's the story of my crap life. Not to mention I just ended up where I began. Fucking Boston. Fuck it.

I dropped by my old house the other day, you know, just for old times' sake. It's broken down, and nobody lives in it anymore. I stepped inside, just to take a look. Looked like nobody lived in it after I left except for some rats and a shitload of roaches. The doors were mostly broken in, and the windows were boarded up real shitty. I could still smell the liquor and Mom's old perfume. The cheap kind. It's all she ever used after she got acquainted with old Jack Daniels. My room was the same as it was before I left it. Just dirtier and smellier. My books were still there, little kid books that my mom used to read to me when she was sober. She used to snuggle into my bed with me and read them aloud. I used to love that. I still remember her voice. Before it went to shit. And that bed. Damn. I hated that bed. At least five times a fucking week I was fucked on that bed, and without consent, so I guess you could say I was raped five times a week on that fucking bed. I hated that bed, and I still hate it.

(Dawn feels like crying.)

I lost it.

I flew out of there like a bat out of hell and I bought myself a gas can, a pack of matches, and went back. You can guess what happened then.

Everything burns.

That house was, is, like a metaphor for my life. It was happy once. For something like a minute, then it's shit shit shit all the way 'til the end. When it all goes to hell.

Sometimes I feel like I'm in hell.

(She wishes it was different.)

But I'm trying, you know? I'm fucking trying. I slay and I work and I live the good life. I'm trying.

I smile more, even.

I just hope it makes some sort of a difference. That maybe it'll balance out all the shit that I've caused.

(It does. It really does.)

But I guess that's not for me to decide. The Scoobs never really forgave me. I never did, anyway.

(They forgave you, she thinks. They're just stupid. So stupid.)

I hope someday I'll see you again, Squirt. I miss you a lot.

(So does she.)

Always in my heart,

(Dawn is crying.)

Faith

(She decides it's time to go to Boston.)