The Quickening

Notes: Sorry for the delay, had a busy weekend.

Previously:

"What's down there?" Faith asked. The figure followed her eyes down into the abyss and smiled.

"Why don't you find out?" It asked. Faith stepped off the ledge, back on the solid ground of the balcony.

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I can't."

"Not yet," the figure replied. "But soon you'll be ready. Soon you'll want to."

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Faith stood on the front patio of the apartment she shared with Giles. Sunset had just passed and the skyline was still lit up with lingering reds and oranges that made the trees look like they were on fire. Looking up into the sky, Faith could see the moon steadily rising. A few stars twinkled in the rapidly approaching night. Inside, Giles was pouring over a book. Faith could see him in her mind's eye, with his glasses balanced on his nose, his eyes squinting as he sat deep in thought, pondering over the words written before him.

Lighting up a cigarette, Faith inhaled deeply, relishing the taste of the smoke as it curled down her throat. Exhaling, the smoke shot back out of her nose, disappearing into the air. Giles did not approve of her smoking habit, but she was not about to start compromising herself for anyone. She had lived her life on her own terms for too long to start obeying someone else's rules. She liked living with Giles, and she tried to adhere to the conditions of his house as best she could, but she was not about to give up everything. The night gradually grew colder and Faith began to feel uncomfortable standing outside. Dropping the cigarette, she rubbed the tiny flame out with the heel of her boot. Opening the front door, she stepped into the warm apartment. Giles was sitting on his easy chair, just as she imagined. "How's your head?" Faith asked, walking around and sitting on the sofa. Giles lowered his book into his lap and gently closed it.

"I feel fine," he replied. "Though I do have a rather large bump."

"Sorry," Faith said, looking down at her hands. She felt bad about what Gwendolyn did to Giles. She thought that somehow she should have been able to see what Gwendolyn had planned. She should have been able to sense the evil in her. Instead, Gwendolyn managed to wreak havoc on her life and she had been powerless to stop it.

"It's not your fault," Giles said. "I heard about what happened at the mansion."

"Oh," Faith responded. She could feel her heart tighten in her chest.

"Considering the circumstances," Giles said, looking at her and smiling softly, "I think you acted rightly. Gwendolyn was your Watcher, for all intents and purposes. According to the Council, a slayer should always follow the direction of her Watcher. You only did as you were supposed to do."

"I still should have known," Faith said.

"I've seen many things in my life," Giles replied. "I've seen great evil and I've seen great good. But what I've found to be true in all cases is that you can never really know which is which until the moment it reveals itself either way. Seemingly evil people can have great hearts, while seemingly great people can have evil hearts. You can never really know a person, not completely."

"Did you tell the Council about her?" Faith asked.

"Yes, I did," Giles replied. "They're sending out a replacement Watcher for your old Watcher."

"I don't want another Watcher," Faith said insistently. "I've had enough of that shit."

"I understand that. In fact, I told them as much…only a bit more politely. However, they don't particularly care about your wishes," Giles replied bitterly.

"So what are we gonna do then?" Faith asked in frustration.

"I have a proposition for you," Giles responded, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and folding his hands.

"What's that?" Faith asked, not entirely sure if she was going to like his plan.

"The Council will send a new Watcher for you no matter what we do. Because you don't have a legal guardian, the Council could potentially take over the role as your legal guardian, which would mean that they would have complete legal control over you until you turn eighteen. In which case, they could move you without your consent. However, if you have a legal guardian before they take that step, than they cannot exercise any legal control over you at all," Giles explained.

"But like you said, I don't have a legal guardian," Faith replied.

"I know. What I'm proposing is that, if you would like, I could become your legal guardian," Giles answered. "That way, the Council could not exercise any more control over you than you're willing to let them have."

"Seriously?" Faith asked, looking up at him in surprise. "You'd do that?"

"Of course," Giles answered, smiling a little. "The Council can be ruthless. They like a slayer who will bend to their will, who will give in to their every demand. You're not that slayer. I have a feeling they could make your life very difficult if they chose to. However, I want to try to prevent that as much as possible."

"I don't know what to say," Faith replied.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Giles said, rising to his feet. "I'm supposed to meet Buffy for patrol tonight. I don't need an answer now, just whenever you're ready."

"Yeah," Faith said, watching as Giles grabbed his coat and left the apartment. Faith leaned back against the sofa. She knew that Giles was suggesting more than he said. While becoming her legal guardian would prevent the Council from taking control of her life, it would also put Giles in control of her life – legally speaking at least. Giles would be responsible for taking care of her, for making sure that she had everything she needed. Those people given that responsibility in her past had done everything they could to give it back. Her father, once he went to jail, did not even bother to try to contact her.

As it was, she could only barely remember her father's face. Everyday that passed, the image of him faded slowly from her mind. He was like a ghost flitting through her memory. She did not even know if he was still alive. He could have died in prison and she never would have known. Her mother had not been any better. Now, Giles wanted to try to step into the role that her parents had practically run from the moment they were given it. While Faith thought he was up to the challenge, she did not think that she was capable of handling another disappointment.

…………………….

Xander scraped the remains of his microwave dinner into the trashcan. Christmas was coming up. The rest of the houses in the neighborhood had Christmas lights strung up on the roofs and in the trees. His house, however, was a dark hole in the night. His father was still at work and his mother was sitting in front of the television, probably fantasizing about what having a television life would be like. It made Xander sick. He did not understand why his mother had not taken him and left his father when he was younger. Instead, his mother stayed by his father's side for years of abuse and mistreatment. As a result, Xander had been forced to stay as well.

Xander looked up when he heard the front door open. He could hear his father's heavy work boots clunking on the foyer floor. "Where's that damn boy? He home yet?" His father yelled.

"I'm in the kitchen," Xander yelled back, setting his plate down in the kitchen sink. His father walked into the kitchen, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and throwing it on a kitchen chair.

"Where the hell were you last night? You didn't come home," his father said. Xander could smell beer on his breath from across the room.

"I was out," Xander replied.

"You know my rules, boy," his father responded, rolling up his sleeves.

"Yes, I do," Xander answered. "I just chose not to follow them this time."

"Excuse me," his father said, stepping closer. "What did you just say?"

"I think you heard me," Xander replied. Before he even knew what had happened, Xander was lying on the ground looking up at his father, who was standing over him. A sudden pain shot through his face and Xander reached up, gingerly touching a cut under his left eye. He could see his blood dripping off the ring his father wore on his hand.

"You live here, you follow my rules. If you don't like it, than get the hell out," his father yelled. "I personally don't give a shit what you do." Xander watched as his father walked over to the fridge and pulled open the door. He grabbed a beer and slammed the fridge door closed before stalking out of the kitchen. Xander slowly pulled himself to his feet and slipped out of the kitchen, into his bedroom. Gently closing the door behind him, he walked over to his bedroom mirror.

"Shit," he muttered, looking at his reflection. Grabbing a tissue, he wiped away the blood that was running down his cheek. Lowering his hand, he looked at himself in the mirror, as if he was seeing himself for the first time. His mother had never left his father and he would never understand why, but that did not mean that he had to stay. Turning, he grabbed his book bag and began to shove clothes into it.

Once he had packed what he could carry, he quietly opened his bedroom window and slipped out. His feet touched the ground and he took off running as fast as he could. He felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his heart, though he knew his decision would have more consequences than he could imagine. However, before he began to worry about what he was going to do to support himself, he had to find a place to spend the night, and he knew exactly where to go.