Authors Note: Thank you those who reviewed. Second chapter, I have a larger general idea of what will be going on! In this chapter, there in a lonely Diner, that is about to get hit with the beginnings of something bigger. Ever hear of the big picture? Will there be innocent bystanders to a grudge that has been burning for over eight months. Innocent bystanders; there is no such creature. Sorry for the few days wait, I lost almost the entire chapter when my power went out. So bleedin' unfair, I say! Any who, Feel free to tell me what you think; If ever wishing to drop a line; AIM name is 'Aphotic Faith', always happy to chat. Song in the beginning of this chapter, is "Passive" by a Perfect Circle.

J: Thank you for the review. It was helpful for when I wrote this chapter. I have yet to determine the actual plot of the story, y'know. Working chapter by chapter and winging it from there. Got a beginning and an end, everything else. Trying not to go for the cliché 'revenge' plots, or the even more cliché 'love' plots – Maybe a nice mix of the two! Oh'ell, it'll be worked out. Eventually.

Summary; In every generation there is one girl in all the world; That's not true anymore, is it? In this new day and age, there are two Slayers; a light and a dark; the tough and the soft. Opposites in every way, yet they have something in common with each other that they don't with any other; a shared destiny. Faith Lehane has awaken from her 'car accident' induced coma, and she was far from happy. Buffy Summers, thinking that her life finally, for once has settled; a steady boyfriend, friends, family. – Is about to be thrown upside down for a prophecy that is just the same dance its two players have had before; one to the death. Two Slayers, one outcome – Who'll come out on top, in a fight between the chosen two?

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"Dead as dead can be," my doctor tells me
But I just can't believe him, ever the optimistic one
I'm sure of your ability to become my perfect enemy
Wake up and face me, don't play dead cause maybe…

Someday you will walk away, and say;

"You disappoint me."

Maybe you are better off this way…

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Raining—Poetic justice, really. Stacy Morgan was your average college student working through life. Her family leaving her to fend the cruel world on her own. Not the perfect daughter mold that they had aimed for. Average coloured brown eyes looked over her grease splattered uniform, as she slouched behind the counter top. The only thing between her and the rest of the world. She wondered ideally if it was all worth it; waiting here day in and day out. For some opportunity to present itself, some sign from God. Though, being Jewish herself. Sighing, her inner thoughts rolled over her absolute utter lack of things to live for. No where job, worthless apartment, no love to come home to. And now, not even a clear sky. She watched the side window of the diner, the rain pouring heavier with every passing moment. It was a constant onslaught of water, making it hard to see past the brink of the window.

The door jingled as the door to the diner opened—ten o'clock at night, and the booths and tables lay empty. The rain outside rushed across the sky, hard enough to cause the sign 'Sunnydale Diner' to flicker in its faulty neon lighting. The waitress looked up, not expecting anything this time of night. People tended to stay inside during the night, strange things happened in Sunnydale. The figure that walked in was soaked through. The door closed behind her with another jingle and a click, a puddle already forming under thick black leather boots.

A young woman, standing about five foot eight or nine inches tall, hard to tell. The denim jacket was black with water, the fabric soaked through, dripping onto the floor with soft plopping sounds. A white tee shirt was soaked through, flashing a pale colour with every touch to the woman's flesh. Her clothes sloshed as the teenager walked into the empty diner. At least, Stacy thought she was a teenager—But the smoldering darkness of her anything but average brown eyes said otherwise. The engulfing black that had spread with her dilating pupil, spoke of a hidden purpose. Waves of soaked hair were strands of heavy obsidian curtains, hanging loose in front of those matching dark eyes, like a shield. The brunette seemed to not even pass a glance to Stacy, as she walked to the furthest booth in the diner. "Hello, ma'am! Can I get you anything?"

It suddenly didn't seem like such a good idea; cold black marbles altered from their passive glare on the far wall, to the nervous waitress behind the counter—Which sudden didn't seem like the wall it had only ten minutes prior. Drenched to the bone, the passive brunette just gazed at her is debating something with her stoic silence. There was a washed paleness to her skin, Stacy noticed—As if she hadn't seen the sun for a very long time. The teenager tilted her head to the side, still looking at the waitress before something altered; dry red lips parted into something that could have been seen in two lights. It seemed more a snarl than an actual expression, but soon one side lifted higher into a twisted smirk. A perfect dark eyebrow arched above those voids of dark colour. "Coffee."

A simple singular word; rolled across with what hinted at an accent. Not anything foreign, but it was a rough drawl. Almost close to the stereotypical Bostonian roll of words. Smokey tones, hinted at a smidgen to much smoke in that set of lungs. Rain soaked boots turned; heel rough on the ground as her ankle rotated. Leaving a obsidian mark on the polished white linoleum. The slight skitting sound was coupled only with the down pour of rain outside. Walking over to the counter, the brunette hoisted herself with inhuman grace and poise onto the stool. A single motion that wasn't lost on the waitress standing in front of her. Weird things happened in Sunnydale— "Sure." Picking up the pot, and setting a coffee cup in front of the only other in the diner, she continued while pouring the heated beverage. "Just passing through? Or do you live around here?"

"Business."

Again with the singular word responses; "Oh! That's cool, like. Really cool. What kind of business are you in?"

"Exterminator."

Stacy furrowed her brows; Exterminator? Average brown hues trailed over the drenched form in front of her. "Oh, like. Bugs?"

"What else is there to exterminate, People? Been there, done that." —The words were accompanied by a smirked, obvious this time. As those smoldering hues just looked at Stacy. The soaked brunette's tone hadn't changed for even a moment, remained in the passive tone-just a bare breath of words, as if each and everyone was wasted. Stacy, on the other hand, was getting flashes from all the cliché assassin movies she saw; Lone waitress in an empty diner at night, dark stranger walks in from the sight altering rain; her mind was running on panic, as average brown hues were drawn wide. The 'dark stranger' just drank her coffee, seeming to relish the taste, as if it was her first or last cup. Finally, the brunette seemed to take pit on the waitress. Lowering the coffee cup from her lips, she arched another eyebrow. "Jokin', Twinkie."

"Haha, I knew that. So knew that." There was an eyebrow raised in disbelief from the customer, and Stacy just pouted. How she went from terrified to pouting, was a mystery. Leaning forward slightly, on her elbows. She placed to coffee pot on the counter, her full attention on her enigmatic companion. "Fine, oh mysterious-dark-stranger. If you're not here for brutal and bloody deaths of those who have wronged you and your people. What brings you to Sunnydale? Not much here but cemeteries and malls."

"Like I said, Twinkie. Business." The brunette began, "Been out of the loop a while, stickin' around to pay some old buddies a visit." She was smiling now, dual rows of pearls, as she downed the rest of her coffee. Placing the coffee cup back on the counter, as leaning back slightly on the stool; passive black eyes looked across the space of the diner, chest raising with a particularly deep breath. Everything seemed so clean, the surfaces gleaming and perfect. Pure almost, her attention drifted so casually to the black mark her boot made on the floor; she ruined everything she touched. Speaking again, without even looking back at the college student so intent on her, "Would you regret it?"

Average brown eyes narrowed in confusion a moment, before; "Regret what?"

"Anything."

That seemed like a real random question, but she answered anyway, "Well, yeah. I always wanted—You're going to laugh—I wanted to be a dancer. You know, lights and music…" She watched as the brunettes dark eyes turned back to her; so slow, as if she had the time of the world on her side. Average brown matched smoldering black for a moment, before the customer stood gracefully from her seat and smiled. It seemed anything but happy.

"Why you here then, Twinkie? Sunnydale ain't no Broadway." She teased, lightly, "You need some faith in yourself. Send me a postcard when your wicked famous." –And just like that, she turned around, this time picking up her boots to not make another march on that perfect white floor. Striding towards the door, she used her shoulder to open it, the jingle accompanied her exit, just like it had her entrance. Stepping forward, the door closed with her weight no longer holding it open. Stacy couldn't make out her outline, sue to the heavy rain. Brows furrowed over narrowed eyes. Before she started to laugh; that was the weirdest encounter she had ever had. The laughter subsided into a large grin, she was suddenly beaming with happiness. Without a second thought, Stacy Morgan, grabbed her coat and walked over to the door of the Diner, 'Closed' sign in place and door safely locked, she took one glance around, before stepping into the ran, coat hugging her neck. She had to have, faith.

In the darkness of the now empty diner, there were only three things that would show for the single event that was so meaningless, yet, would change Stacy Morgan's life. Three simple, unrelated things; A puddle by the door, a black scuff on the floor, and a empty coffee cup on the counter.—

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Walking through Restfield cemetery, Buffy Summers passed by grave stones with ease. A practiced ease, this was, after all, her calling. The rain had been a problem to begin with, but she couldn't avoid slaying. The number of vampires in the last week had almost tripled, at least she thought so. With college and all, she'd been slightly distracter. Riley was off with the Initiative, doing, whatever he did. She couldn't really criticize his work, the 'its to dangerous' really lost its effect when she went out every night to fight vampires. Yep, messed up. Things though, had been going well. In a broad, general sense; she was passing her studies. Which was really something that was stressing her out. And just last night, she was debating with Xander if the guy who playing in 'Robo Cop' was the same person who played Red Forman on That 70s Show. Useless, but relaxing.

Out of the corner of her eye, though the hair standing up on the back of her neck was prior warning, she spotted two vampires. Both in which looked like 60s retro hippie reject. They had that obnoxiously confident swagger that Buffy thought only worked for one person—The blonde cut off her own thoughts, when one of them lunged at her, followed closely by the second. Can they be anymore stupid? Apparently, because one of them actually yelled out, "The Slayer!"

"Its always the same thing with you of the fanged variety; 'Roar! Slayer!' – Who writes your dialogue, really." She commented, while punching the lunging vampire in the face. Turning to the side and backhanding the second one, both vampire in which fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. They were up in a few moments, game face on. Lunging again, this time together, Buffy shoulder rolled the first one and went to trip the second, but he managed to reach her in time to get a clean shot off on her cheek. Groaning, she retaliated and whipped out Mr. Pointy. Jamming it in the chest of the larger vampire, his eyes went wide. Only for a moment, before be burst into a cloud of dust.

The second jumped to his feet, after seeing what happened to his partner. Lunging at the Slayer, he attempted a punch kick combo; only to have his punch ducked, and his kick trapped against her side. He going to pull the leg back, but before he knew it there was a stake sticking out of his chest; another one bites the dust. The blonde brushed off the dust, which had settled on her coat, though not much, due to the rain that was pouring down. Smiling, and twirling her stack expertly around her knuckles, she chanted; "Hoover-fied!"

She felt someone watching her, the sound of shoes getting on the bad side of the now muddy ground. The rain flicked off her blonde hair as she turned around, looking behind her for whoever was following her, a shiver ran up her spin. A soft humming sound entered her ears, totally metaphysical. It pulsed through her mind, accompanied by the warm sensation that spread through her entire body, even against the cold feeling of the rain pouring down, even harder. It was then she head the smokey drawl that the Doctors told her she'd never hear again. Turning around again, to the direction she originally had faced. A shadowed silhouette stood two meters from her, the same casual slouch, she couldn't see any features. But she knew who it was.

"Hey B. What's shakin'?"