A/N: I am so, so, so sorry for the delay in the updating of this story. I hope that there are people out there that are still reading it.

Thank you very much for the wonderful and supportive reviews. I really intend on finishing this story, no matter how long it may take me. But as I finally have the season 3 DVDs, I think it will move much quicker now.

I'm also shopping for a beta, so let me know if you are interested.

Still of the Night

Faith walked down the dark L.A. streets, twirling a stake in on hand and thinking, something anyone who had met her since she left Boston might be surprised that she actually did. After all, a girl who lived by the motto "want, take, have" never really thought about anything for more than a minute. That kind of girl always lived for the moment. That kind of girl could never be found wandering down a dark street, contemplating her life.

But here she was, the 'other' slayer, pondering thoughts far heavier than one might think she was capable of having. At the moment, Faith found herself reflecting on her life, taking an account of the events that brought her here. In particular, she was thinking about Sunnydale.

Her thoughts had turned to that part of her life after she had dusted the only vamp that she'd come across since leaving Wesley's. She had wanted a knock-down, drag-out fight, something to get her mind off of things. She'd vaguely wished L.A. was more like Sunnydale. If you had wanted action in that town, it was always easy to find.

After that thought had passed through her mind, she found herself remembering her time spent on the Hellmouth.

She wondered if she would do things differently if given the chance. Or if things would have been different had she not been trying so hard to be accepted, while at the same time being her own worst enemy in that endeavor.

Faith had been looking for a place to fit in, a place where she felt she belonged. But Faith also needed to be accepted for who she was, something her mother had never done, especially after her first watcher had shown up.

If anything, her mother had taken that event as an excuse to finally be rid of the daughter she had never really wanted, handing Faith over without questions or reservations to a perfect stranger.

And although the thought seemed horrible to someone who hadn't been there, Faith actually thought that her mother turning over the job of raising her to her watcher was the best thing her mother ever done for her.

And then Faith had gone and gotten her watcher killed, and the young slayer was abandoned again. A misfit again.

Her watcher had always told Faith about Sunnydale, about the Hellmouth and it's legendary slayer Buffy.

Buffy had always sounded like someone Faith thought she could get along with. The girl defied convention, broke rules, and refused to adhere to any of the Watcher's Council's edicts.

The girl hadn't even stayed dead, and with her survival had shattered the whole notion of "one girl in all the world." Of course, Kendra had stayed dead, her passing setting into motion the chain of events that had led Faith to Sunnydale.

The newly called slayer had thought that if there was anywhere that she was sure to be accepted after her watcher's death, it was in the town of the slayer who refused to follow any rules.

Little had Faith known that the girl had a set of rules all her own. That the only rules that Buffy broke were the ones that didn't suit her. In some things she was even more uncompromising than the stodgy Englishmen that Buffy was so disdainful of.

To Buffy, black was black, white was white, good very good and evil very bad. Laws were to be upheld no matter what. And you should never, ever enjoy your sacred duty. A slayer's calling was something to bear. A great weight to be carried with quiet solemnity. A slayer should never enjoy the power that she held, and she should never, ever relish her destiny.

So instead of the acceptance that Faith had been expecting, that she had been hoping for, that she had been craving, the dark slayer had found in Buffy someone that just didn't understand her. Buffy couldn't grasp how Faith could enjoy the role that they had been given. She couldn't see how Faith could find anything good at all about being a slayer.

Not only couldn't Buffy understand Faith's ease and acceptance of her new calling, but she wouldn't even try to see things from Faith's point of view. The one time that it looked as if Buffy was warming to Faith's philosophy had ended in disaster and death. The night of the accident with the deputy mayor was when it truly hit home to Faith that she would never find acceptance in Sunnydale.

At least not with the Scoobies.

That's why it had been so easy for her to side with Wilkins. He accepted her unconditionally. He had even seemed to love her, in his own strange way. He gave to Faith what it was she was so desperately craving. That had meant more to Faith then the fact that he was evil. It allowed her to convince herself that the side she had chosen was okay, because that side had chosen her right back.

This was precisely what she was mulling over, whether or not being accepted by the Scoobies for who she was instead of being rejected because she didn't conform to there idea of a slayer would have been the thing that had kept her from turning to Wilkins, when the little hairs on the back of Faith's neck found themselves standing at attention.

Faith knew that had never meant something good. Also, it usually meant that someone was watching her.

The dark slayer cursed herself for letting her attention wane at all. It wasn't like her to get distracted by her own thoughts. It was just this whole deal with Wesley. She couldn't help but feel at fault for at least some of what had happened. If she had been a proper slayer, Wesley would have still been her watcher, and he wouldn't have gotten involved in the big old Angel-baby mess. It was eating away at her. And distracting her.

Then again, if Wes had still been her watcher, then he probably wouldn't have become the man he was now. Faith couldn't prevent an image of the was she was getting to know from popping up in her head. He was so different than he was before. He was guarded, quiet, unkempt, and sexy as . . .she shook her head vehemently banishing the image. She shouldn't be thinking these things about her watcher, for her watcher again he was, in the best of circumstances. And she certainly shouldn't be letting her thoughts stray in that direction when she was on patrol. And being watched.

Watched and followed.

For now that Faith was once again focused she could sense that whatever it was that had been watching her was now nearly directly behind her, about to grab her shoulder.

Spinning around, she grabbed the outstretched limb with one hand while raising her stake with the other.

Her assailant immediately held out his hands in a placating gesture, trying to show her that he wasn't a threat. "Hold on there, Faith. I'm not a bloodsucker."

She dropped his arm and turned her back to him, letting him know that she didn't regard him as a threat at all, and he didn't know whether to be offended or relieved. "I wouldn't count on that, Lindsey. You are a lawyer, after all." She glanced at him sideways when he finally caught up to her. "What the hell do you want anyways? I thought that you had left town. Sneaking up on a slayer isn't so good for your health, Lin."

"I was willing to take the risk." He laid a hand on her shoulder, halting her steps, and turned her slightly to face him. "You and I need to have a talk."

"We've talked all we ever need to, cowboy." She shrugged his hand off and walked away, but his next words stopped her dead.

"It's about Wesley."