(1/8/2018) Happy New Year!

I had to do so much freaking research for this chapter; psychology, the effects of certain bodily injuries, etc., and so many canonical questions. There are a loooooot of suppositions made regarding that last bit so I'm open to corrections or suggestions.

I'm also having a bit of a motivational issue regarding this fic. Starting to wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew. Some help regarding that would be appreciated!

Note : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Consequences"(BtVS 3.15).

Thank you thedarkpokemaster, RHatch89, Sage of Wind Dragons, and Timelord2162 for the reviews! And everybody favoriting and following gets a glass of champagne!


Sam's hands reflexively yanked at Faith's, realizing too late the futility of the gesture; with her enhanced strength there was no way he could pull her off his neck. The punch he threw at the Slayer whipped her head to one side but did nothing to alleviate her grip. As his vision faded he gave a silent, desperate prayer for salvation, noting bleakly the maniacal gleam in the girl's eyes.

A moment later air was rushing back into his lungs. Sam lurched upright, dislodging an unconscious Faith from his body, and began coughing. He rubbed the growing bruises on his neck. "Thanks," he managed to croak out.

"What is going on?" demanded a puzzled Castiel.

"Give me a sec." Sam stumbled to his feet and ungracefully made his way to Faith's sink. He turned it on and, heedless of the wet and bloody garment, stuck his hand under the faucet and took some careful sips of water.

"That is not her blood," stated the angel.

"No. It's someone else's." The hunter sat back down on the bed. "Listen, can you zap us over to Angel's?"

Castiel scowled. "My power is not a method of transportation."

"Please." Sam gestured towards the afternoon sunlight drifting in from the window. "I'd ask Angel himself to come but he can't and Dean is with Buffy." At the angel's further reticence, the hunter added, testily, "Do you want to know what's going on or not?"

Anyone else, Sam thought, would have rolled their eyes. Castiel, however, merely reached out and did what was asked. As it was the first time he would experience being flown Sam had no idea what to expect. He had an eager, boyish hope that they'd be sailing through the air like Superman. For a minuscule moment the hunter thought he saw enormous black wings unfold from the angel's back. Then, disappointingly, the hunter's feet were touching down on marble flooring and the illusion was gone.

Angel, who had been sitting in a recliner reading, lifted his eyebrows at their sudden appearance. "What happened?"

Sam painfully cleared his throat. "Faith's going off the rails already. You got anything that'll hold her down?"

"Yes."

"Better get them."


The first thing Faith registered when she came to was the cold enveloping her wrists. That and she was lying at an awkward angle across a bare floor. With a clatter and clank of iron manacles she pushed herself to a sitting position and leaned her back against the wall.

There were four men arrayed in front of her, all wearing forbidding expressions. "I dunno about you," she quipped, "but this would be the first time I've taken more than two at once. But hey, I'm up to the challenge." She grinned lewdly and adjusted the view of her breasts.

Dean rolled his eyes while Sam and Angel's expressions didn't waver. The fourth, Castiel, cocked his head in confusion. "Do you mean in battle? I'm quite certain that you have fought more than two vampires at once on multiple occasions."

The other three glanced at one another. "I'm gonna tell him," Dean said with an eager smirk.

Sam gave his brother an irritated glower as Angel suggested the rest of them leave. Faith did her best to maintain her facade of lusty nonchalance as the men argued. Inside, however, her mind was in turmoil.

The Slayer hadn't slept, angelic assistance notwithstanding, and her thoughts vacillated between two separate mindsets. The first was pure, unadulterated horror at what she had done. Though there were moments, many moments, in the past where she had considered killing someone she had never gone through with it. Her parents, definitely, after one of their many alcoholic binges ended with daddy smacking mommy and then mommy smacking her. Or, after daddy had taken the family car for a permanent vacation to the bottom of the Atlantic, any of mommy's revolving door of boyfriends, particularly those who spotted the maturing little girl in the corner and decided to see if the daughter was a better ride than her mother.

Faith knew her life had spun out in a white trash cliche, down to dropping out of high school and falling into a lifestyle saturated with drugs and sex. If it hadn't been for the Slayer thing she didn't know where she'd be. Probably killed by one of those men she'd been luring into compromising positions and then robbing blind. But still, even in her darkest moment Faith had never, ever, imagined that she would be the one doing the killing.

Ever since she'd pelted out of the Impala the question had been whirling around and around. Why had he been there? Did he have a family that mourned him? A wife? Children? Was he scared in those last moments? Had he felt pain? How much pain? Would she get caught? Would she go to jail?

Who would even care? No one took care of Faith other than Faith: the harsh conclusion she'd come to after all these years. No one cared when she showed up with new bruises, no one listened when she tried to tell them what Mark or Billy or Jacob was doing to her pre-teen self late at night, and no one had objected when the stuffy English woman had appeared and carted her away.

That last, at least, had been a blessing. Faith turned her head towards the wall at the prickle of tears. Dr. Gertrude Greenwater brought with her a sympathy that was anathema to everything the girl had known, and the patience with Faith's subsequent delinquent behavior was alarming. The newly endowed Slayer spent the first few weeks under her Watcher's tutelage trying to figure out when the false pity would end. After all, every other adult in her life had used her for their own ends, why shouldn't this woman?

Then Gertrude had found Faith in the girl's childhood home… along with the bodies of her mother and her mother's boyfriend. Mrs. Lehane's latest prize had brought with him the wonders of needles and heroin, graduating the woman from alcoholism into full blown drug addiction. Her daughter had come by, for what reason Faith couldn't fathom; after all, by this point she had taken near-permanent residence in her Watcher's spare bedroom. Now she was screaming and crying, furious and sad, taking advantage of her enhanced strength to destroy what little furniture remained in her family's rundown abode.

Gertrude waited until the storm abated before gathering her charge into her arms and letting the girl weep herself into exhaustion. When Faith came to she found herself lying on an ambulance cot wrapped in blankets. Two bodybags were being carted from her former home, a sight that was immediately blocked by a homely face topped with a severe bun. A soft, English lilt told the Slayer to go back to sleep, that everything would be taken care of, and that there was nothing she needed to worry about.

Faith came to love that woman in a way that she had never felt for her own mother, at least as far as she could remember. In a sudden reversal of fortune, the teenaged girl had gone from a mattress in a one bathroom hovel to living in a fully furnished bedroom with her own shower and toilet. She had plenty of food to eat, had direction for the first time in her life, and, once the paperwork was done, someone that she was deliriously happy to call her parent.

Kakistos shattered it all.

And that was where Faith's current musings ended. As crappy as her childhood had been, despite the numerous abuses she'd been forced to endure, nothing compared to what that monster had done. The Slayer squeezed her eyes shut, forced back the sound of Gertrude screaming, and turned back towards her quartet of captors in order to determine which of them was the weakest link.

Except four was being reduced to one. With a rush of wings the angel vanished. Buffy's brothers were heading for the front door. As soon as the lock clicked, Faith licked her lips and asked, "Wanted me all to yourself, big guy?"

Angel crouched down to look her in the eye. "We need to talk, killer to killer."

"Great. Can't wait for the head shrinkage. In the meantime," she growled as she yanked at her bonds, "could you let me out of these things?"


"You sure we're doing the right thing?"

Dean sighed and rested his arms on the roof of the Impala. "You got a better idea?"

Sam shrugged. "No. I just… I just wish I knew what to tell her, that's all."

"Yeah, well, we ain't exactly saints. Not like we haven't ganked our share of humans when we're takin' out demons."

"Wait," Sam said as Dean opened the driver's side door. "Listen, if Faith got called when those other Slayers died she's been doing this for less than a year. At her age we were already experts at the best place to stick a knife."

"Okay? And?"

"She's probably a lot more scared about this than she's letting on. I just don't think we should leave, in case Angel doesn't get through to her."

Dean gave another sigh, this time saturated with exasperation, before slamming his door closed. "Fine, fine. We'll—"

The hunter's assent was bitten off by a sudden pinch to his back. It was immediately followed by a surge of electricity. He could hear Sam's yells over his own, meaning that whoever (or whatever) had ambushed them had enough numbers to take them both at the same time. Thoughts of painful retribution ran through his head just before someone's fist smacked into his skull.


Someone was calling his name. Someone familiar. And irritating. "Bluh," Dean managed.

"He's still out of it," Sam said. "You sure you're not, you know, bleeding out internally?"

"I'm not," an irate Angel replied.

Two sets of hands gathered under Dean's shoulders and heaved him to his feet. The motion helped to clear his head. "The hell happened?" he slurred.

"Wesley contacted the Watcher's Council," Angel said through gritted teeth. "They took Faith."


Wesley was somewhat gratified and somewhat apprehensive over the sight of a struggling Faith being hauled, manacled and gagged, into their nondescript van. He turned towards the outside consultant and said, "Your help in this matter is deeply appreciated. We were quite certain, given this particular Slayer's mannerisms and history, that there would be far more trouble. Thankfully it appears that her 'friends' did a bit of the work for us."

The other man nodded. "While our organizations disagree on whether or not the Slayer should continue to even exist, problems of this nature should always bring us together."

The Watcher bristled. "Still, you do realize that per our treaty she remains under our purview."

"Naturally, but perhaps once the Council has made its decision you might think to hand her over to us. Our facilities are far superior to handle someone of her… unique situation."

The gentleman's smile made Wesley's uneasiness deepen. He'd heard of the sort of training the other organization went through; a strict regimen of schooling and physical rigor that often culminated not in washouts (as it sometimes happened at the Watcher's Academy), but in fatalities. Those that survived to graduate, it seemed, became cold, calculating machines, ones willing to overlook the humanity in the supernatural in order to get to results.

For the first time since he'd called overseas, Wesley began to doubt whether or not he was doing the right thing. "I will bring it up with Mr. Travers."

"Very well." A hand was proffered. "Always a pleasure to work with the Watcher's Council."

Wesley shook it, hiding his distaste behind professionalism. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Ketch. I suppose we owe the Men of Letters a debt after this."

"Nonsense. Just remember to keep us in mind when the Slayer's sentencing comes around." Ketch nodded in farewell and headed for his car where a stringy, middle-aged woman in a stiff pantsuit was waiting for him.

"Not bloody likely," Wesley murmured to himself as the SUV drove off. The sooner he and the other Council members boarded their plane the better.


The Hellmouth was absolutely fascinating, Balthazar had decided. Besides the abundance of vampires there was a host of other monsters hiding out under the radar and just merrily going about their business. Just at the high school he'd spotted among the student body a werewolf, several witches, and, in the teacher's lounge, a shapeshifter on the faculty. Not to mention the Slayer and her group of hanger-ons (which included the spotted werewolf and a burgeoning witch).

He was a little curious, however, after realizing that there was only one Slayer attending what passed for their educational facility despite what he gleaned as the relative similarity in their ages; from his observations most ape progenitors forced their spawn to endure these near-prisons until they had reached the end of physical development. After a bit of reconnaissance Balthazar discovered her having a tête-à-tête with the other Slayer's bloodsucking boyfriend.

The ensuing scenes were incredibly entertaining, particularly the part where those irritating brothers were subdued. When the more interesting Slayer was bundled up and carted away, Balthazar discovered a solution to his own current issues.

A panicked, supernaturally endowed teenager running amok would be the perfect distraction for those demons that were still on his tail.

He snapped his fingers and the girl's restraints unlocked. Chaos ensued and, as the proud instigator, Balthazar sat back to watch.


Early evening rolled around before Willow could give her findings to Giles and Buffy (while pointedly ignoring Xander's presence). Hacking into the Mayor's files had revealed nothing. As far as Willow could tell Allen Finch was merely the mayor's secretary/gopher. She did, however, discover that Mayor Wilkins had a consultant on his payroll, one Mr. Oliver Klozoff, a pseudonym that had Xander snickering. The picture that came up on his ID, however, was the vampire they all knew as Trick.

Suspicion was immediately removed from the poor possessed Allen Finch and transferred to his employer. Before they could speculate as to who, what, or why, Sam, Dean, and Angel limped into the library. "What are you guys doing here?" Buffy wondered. "Shouldn't you be, you know, getting all mental with Faith?"

"Wesley's a fucking douchbag," Dean grumbled as he plopped down into a chair. He immediately hissed in pain.

Buffy hustled over in concern. After a moment she plucked out a small metal barb from the back of his flannel. "What the heck is this?"

"A freaking taser thingie."

"The Council took her," Giles inferred as Buffy yanked another metal piece from her brother's backside.

"Yes," Angel replied. "We need to stop him."

While Buffy's brothers agreed with the sentiment, her friends did not. Faith's one night stand with Xander had left a stain on his friendship with Willow, a mark that neither of them were ready to forgive. Sam and Dean, however, knew intimately what it was like to have horrors outside of their control visited upon them and were more inclined to pity Faith's circumstances.

"At the very least," Sam argued, "we could take her with us. She could maybe learn something to vent all that anger out on instead of imploding over here."

"Yeah," Xander scoffed, "I'm sure that she won't be grabbing one of those weapons out of your trunk and killing you with them."

"So getting thrown in jail is a better solution? She needs help! She's a kid, one that's experienced things no kid should." Sam began ticking points off his fingers. "She killed an innocent person, that bitch Post came and used her, Kakistos did God knows what to her first Watcher right in front of her eyes! And before that, who knows what her life was like?"

Pensive silence followed Sam's speech. "None of that's going to matter," Buffy said, "unless we can stop Wesley."

The library doors creaked open. "That's no longer an issue."

Incredulous, Giles asked, "You let her get away?"

"'Let' wouldn't be the way I'd phrase it," Wesley objected. "She somehow got out of her restraints."

Dean, who was closest, grabbed the Watcher's lapels and slammed him up against the nearest pillar. "You stupid son of a bitch!" he yelled in the man's face. "What the fuck were you trying to do?"

In a surprising show of stoicism, Wesley glared right back. "I was trying to save her."

"Good work," snarled Angel as he peered over Dean's shoulder. "First, you terrorize her, then you put her back in the streets."

"You've probably killed any chance we had to keep a handle on this," Sam said quietly.

"You've probably destroyed her," Buffy added scathingly.

"Enough," Giles gently reprimanded as Dean reluctantly released the young Watcher. "We need to find Faith."

"I'm going to start at the train station," Buffy stated. "She said it's how she got here, maybe she's planning on heading out the same way."

"I'm coming with you," Sam told his sister.

"I'll try the airport," Dean said.

"Then I'll do the bus station," Angel announced.

"Willow, Xander," Buffy ordered, "can you guys try her motel? And then start with the cemeteries."

"Yeah, no problem," Xander replied.

The group began filing out of the library past a remorseful Wesley. "What can I do?" he asked softly. "I want to help fix this."

"How about you go fuck yourself?" Dean suggested as he passed.

As the doors swung shut behind Buffy's eldest brother, Wesley turned towards his predecessor. "Was I wrong?"

"According to the Watcher's precepts, no," Giles replied. "But if you haven't noticed, things aren't quite so black and white as they would have had us believe."

Wesley hung his head, then looked up, confused, when the other man unlocked the security cage. "What are you doing?"

"Faith knows about the ring," Giles said grimly as he pulled the object from a warded box. "Your poorly conceived actions have probably made her desperate. Demons may not be able to enter but it won't hold her back. It might be time we consider returning this to the angels."

"Oh, no no no!" Balthazar exclaimed as he appeared behind Wesley. "That's a terrible idea!"

The young Watcher let out a shriek. Balthazar's eyebrows lifted, apparently truly startled at the noise. His astonishment quickly became amusement as Wesley's subsequent flailing caused the man to slam into the center table and fall to the floor. "That was worth the trip," the angel said downwards.

Giles quickly put the ring back and slammed the container shut. "Explain yourself."

Balthazar's facade of insouciance and obnoxiousness suddenly fell away. For the first time since they'd met, Giles felt he was seeing the actual, ancient celestial being housed in human flesh. It seemed… tired. "Do you know what's about to happen?" he asked softly.

"The Apocalypse."

The angel nodded. "Not all of my brothers and sisters are like Castiel, precious innocent guardian that he is. There are quite a few that think that Lucifer rising from Hell is both inevitable and desirable."

"And humanity?" the still prone Wesley squeaked. "What happens to us when the devil walks the Earth?"

"You become acceptable collateral damage." Balthazar waved a hand. "Don't get me wrong; I don't care a whit for most of you lanky apes." His lips twisted into a wry smirk. "But some of you are so very flexible."


The conversation between the Watchers and the angel meandered to a close, but Castiel had stopped listening. In the end the ring was placed back into its hiding spot and the library was emptied.

He strode out from behind the stacks of books. A wave of his hand and the lock to the cage opened. The demon wards were formidable but, regretfully, did nothing to keep angels out. His hand hovered over the warded box that contained the Ring of Nebuchadnezzar.

Everything in Castiel told him that he should be taking the weapon back to Heaven with Balthazar in tow, but he still couldn't bring himself to do it. He remembered, long ago, learning with Balthazar, tutoring him when the less-skilled angel had fallen behind, their friendship lasting through Castiel's subsequent leap in rank. The pair's unusual tendency to question had led to quite a few joint disciplinary actions, but neither had ever held the other to blame. If anything, such incidents served to tighten their bond even further.

Castiel' hand moved from the box to bridge of his nose as the ghostly memory of a glinting object descending upon his eye flitted across his vision. He shook his head and dispelled it.

Before taking his vessel, Castiel would have never hesitated to do what was mandated. Now he was beholden to both Jimmy Novak's inherent sense of morality and the environmental factors that were affecting his own perception of the world. What had Buffy Summers said? That no matter what Balthazar had done, he'd been a friend. Friends were important to this Slayer; he'd seen what lengths she'd gone to in order to protect Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg. Moreover he'd even seen those two humans put themselves on the line to protect the Winchesters who were, peripherally, as Buffy's brothers, their friends as well.

The angel's hand fell to his side.

No, he couldn't do it. If he took the ring back there would be questions, and that would lead eventually to Balthazar. The punishment would be dreadful, perhaps lethal. He couldn't bear the thought of his friend in peril because he had exposed the angel's crime.

Castiel shut the cage and replaced the lock. After a moment of consideration he added Enochian warding to the woven metal.

Someone pinged his subconscious; a prayer specifically aimed at him from Slayer, one lined with the same desperation her younger brother had evinced. Castiel hastily spread his wings and flew off, hoping he wasn't too late.


Author's Note : The consensus regarding vampires and whether they show up on photographs… there's no consensus. Best argument I found was that digital and traditional photography/videography are different. Since digital doesn't require mirrors, BOOM vampire imagery.

Again, lots of supposition on my part regarding Faith's past. I think her father is supposed to still be alive, but meh.