Chapter One
Angel's death almost killed her.
She didn't let it show. She never let anything show. But at night she lay in her bed and let herself drown in the empty ache that he left. During the day she did her part to train her new Slayers, throwing herself into the Drill Sergeant role with an ease that surprised her. She hadn't expected to like teaching. Hadn't expected to be respected and listened to. Hadn't expected leadership to fit her so well.
Sparring and teaching and patrolling helped take her mind off the ache, but it was always waiting for her when she stopped to catch her breath.
She hadn't been in love with him. She only hinted at a physical relationship because it was the fastest and most rewarding way to piss off Buffy. He had been more than a lover. Beyond a lover.
He had been her family.
She hated that word, hated everything it stood for—or hadn't, in her case—but it was the only one she had.
And now the only true family she had ever known was gone. Dust in an alley.
Faith lay in her bed, listening to the night sounds of the motel. The footsteps of someone walking down the hall. The squeak of a mattress as one of the girls in the other bed turned over in her sleep. The three a.m. traffic of Phoenix.
The night lights of the city beyond the window made the curtains glow with a fuzzy orange light, which made their room look like the inside of a jack-o-lantern. Faith lay bathed in orange light until the sound of breathing and traffic lulled her into sleep.
Katie and Elena attacked their omelets and stacks of pancakes with the remarkable enthusiasm teenage Slayers had for food. Even cheap, greasy, diner food.
Faith sat across the table from them, watching them eat with amusement. Her own plate of scrambled eggs and bacon was virtually untouched. She'd made a show of pushing the eggs around and taking a bite or two earlier, but now she just leaned back into the booth, juice glass in hand, and watched her Slayers wolf down their food as though the waitress might snatch it away from them any second.
Her Slayers. They'd been together for almost six month, bouncing from city to city. They trained, they patrolled, they moved on. "The Renegades," Katie had dubbed them. "Slayers on the run." It was what they had in common, why Giles had assigned them to each other: they shared a strong desire to avoid the authorities if at all possible.
There was no way Faith was going back to prison. They'd never let her back out again.
Katie's situation was similar. Three days after coming into her Slayer powers, she had broken out of the juvenile detention center that had been her home for eight months. She was only seventeen, but the shoplifting habit she had developed at age twelve escalated into grand theft auto by age sixteen. She got caught.
Elena, though not being actively pursued by any law enforcement agency, would promptly be deported if they happened to discover she existed. She had lived on the streets for most of her fifteen years, somehow managing to sneak across the border from Tijuana at age ten.
In addition to their lack of good citizenship—or citizenship altogether—they had one other thing in common: none of them had any family. Katie had bounced from foster home to foster home since infancy, and Elena barely remembered a mother who had died in the gutter ten years earlier.
Elena stuffed a last bite of pancake in her mouth and looked up. "What will we do today, Faith?" she asked around her mouthful.
Faith took a sip of her orange juice and shrugged. "Same as usual, I guess."
Katie made a face and swirled a chunk of egg through her syrup. "When are we going to get to kill stuff again? You've been hogging all the vamps, and I'm tired of watching you have all the fun."
Elena nodded vigorously, still chewing.
The corner of Faith's mouth twitched as she looked from one girl to the other. "Whatever. It's not my fault you keep getting knocked down."
Katie narrowed her eyes. "I think you've been tripping me."
Faith smiled. "Don't need to."
Katie tried to look stern and threatening, but burst out laughing instead. "That's probably true."
"It is," Elena said, smiling broadly. Then she noticed Faith's plate. "Faith, you've hardly eaten. Are you okay?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. This just wasn't what I wanted, you know?" She forced herself to take another sip of juice.
Elena didn't look convinced. "You've been…odd since Mr. Giles called a few weeks ago. Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yeah," Katie added. "We haven't been dancing in ages. 'Course, I doubt there's a decent club in this city. Not for minors, anyway." She glared at Elena.
"What?" the younger girl protested. "I will not lie just so you can drink and dance!"
Katie rolled her eyes. "You know how much that ID cost me? God won't strike you dead for flashing a fake ID."
"Yes, I do know how much it cost," Elena retorted. It was an old argument. "And I don't care. I won't do it."
"How did you get to be such a straight edge? Afraid you'll get kicked out of your church club if you have a little fun?"
Elena twisted in her seat to face Katie full on. "It is not the dancing I object to. It is the lying."
Katie rolled her eyes. "Hasn't anyone ever explained the concept of a 'little white lie' to you?"
"Yes. You. Many times. I do not agree."
"Faith!" Katie whined. "Make her listen to reason."
Faith grinned. "Girl's allowed to have her principles."
"But she doesn't have to impose them on the rest of us!"
"Just as you are trying impose your own—or lack of—on me?" Elena asked, one eyebrow cocked.
Katie glowered, defeated. "I have principles," she muttered.
Elena stuck her tongue out at her.
"I'm bigger than you, you know," Katie threatened.
"I'm faster," Elena retorted. "Pfft! Like the conejo."
"What the hell's a conejo?" Katie demanded, frowning. "I thought we had a no Spanish rule. Don't we have a no Spanish rule?"
Faith sipped her juice, trying not to laugh.
Elena held her hands at the back of her head and flopped her fingers over like ears. She wriggled her nose.
Katie stared at her blankly.
"Conejo," Elena said, wriggling her nose harder.
Faith nearly spit her juice all over the table.
Katie glared at her. "Weren't we talking about Faith before Elena decided to do a rodent impression?"
Elena dropped her hands. "I'm a rabbit," she said indignantly.
"Right," Katie drawled. "'Cause rabbits are real scary. Great Slayer mascot. Strike fear into the hearts of demons everywhere." Elena opened her mouth to argue, but Katie cut her off by pointing at Faith and asking, "You want to talk about her or not?"
"We don't need to talk about me," Faith said.
"Yes, we do," Elena said, turning toward her, her argument with Katie set aside for a later time. "Something's off. I'm worried. We're worried, aren't we?" She smacked Katie's arm.
"Right. That we are." Katie folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. "How do you feel, Faith?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
Elena looked at the ceiling and sighed.
Faith tried to smile reassuringly. "Five by five." She pulled a wad of cash out of her jacket pocket, counted out some bills, and threw them on the table. "Let's get outta here," she said, putting an end to the discussion.
She slid out of the booth, Katie and Elena following.
Faith peeked around the corner of an old warehouse. About thirty yards away, Elena slowly walked down the alley, kicking at empty bottles, her hands shoved in the pockets of her baggy jeans. Katie and Faith had taken the younger girl shopping on several occasions, trying to get her to buy more exciting outfits—or at least clothes that fit. But years on the street had left Elena comfortable only in loose clothing. She wore baggy boys' jeans and t-shirts or sweatshirts one size too big, which made her tiny frame look even smaller. Walking down the alley in the dark, she looked like a child. Easy prey.
Elena walked another ten yards before a figure separated itself from the darkness.
"Lost?" it asked.
Elena froze.
The figure—a woman—strolled up to the Slayer and ran a finger down her cheek. Faith bent her legs, preparing to sprint. But there was only one, and she stayed huddled against the building and watched.
Elena shrank back from the vampire.
"Poor little girl," it purred, taking a step forward.
Right into Elena's fist. The vampire stumbled backward, and before it could regain its balance, Elena's foot smashed into its face. The conflict escalated into an exchange of blows, a few brutal enough to send Elena staggering and to make Faith twitch in a mixture of anxiety and bloodlust. She wanted to fight, she wanted to fight. The urge, the desire pounded through her veins, and it was all she could do to hold still.
But this was Elena's fight, Elena's kill, and Faith wasn't needed.
Elena found an opening, lunged with her stake, and it was over.
Faith jogged down the alley, and she could see Katie doing the same from the opposite end. They reached a barely winded Elena at the same time, and Katie began to clap.
"Nice one, 'Lena. That was, like, eighteen seconds, tops." Katie, with her tall frame, angular face, and short, spiky hair, did nothing to dispel the image of Elena as a child.
Elena flipped her braid back over her shoulder and smiled. "Think you can beat it?"
They turned to Faith.
"My turn?" Katie asked. "I have a reputation to uphold."
Elena snorted but addressed Faith with, "Can we go again?"
Faith tucked her stake in the back of her jeans and nodded. "Let's hit the cemetery."
It took longer to find Katie a vamp, but they finally did, and the two younger Slayers spent the walk back to the motel arguing about their dusting times.
"Yours was definitely nineteen seconds. Almost twenty. I counted very carefully," Elena said.
"No way," Katie refuted. "I was so quicker than you. Were you counting really fast? Show me how you were counting."
Elena counted.
"That's too fast! Faith, did you count? Please, tell me you counted."
Faith raised her hands. "Hey, leave me out of it." The adrenaline was wearing off, and she could feel the void opening inside her. She quickened their walking pace slightly, anxious for the solitude of her pillow.
"We'll recount tomorrow," Katie declared. Elena nodded in agreement. The walk was completed in silence.
Ten minutes saw teeth brushed, pajamas donned, and the lights out. Faith turned her back to the other bed and let the darkness take her.
She stood in an alley drenched with rain.
Ahead of her, far enough away that the rain made faces barely recognizable, a battle raged. An army against four.
As she watched, Gunn fell to his knees. His axe slipped from his hand and he clutched a wound in his stomach. He raised his head as a demon stepped in front of him, weapon raised. The demon swung. Gunn fell.
Faith screamed, not for Gunn, but for what she knew would happen next. She would stand here and watch them die. Watch Angel die.
"Hey, Faith."
She jumped. Angel stood beside her. She stared at him, then looked back toward the battle, where he still fought. She looked again at the Angel standing next to her. She took two steps forward, wanting to touch him, prove that he was there, alive. But she stopped when she noticed he was completely dry.
"You're not really here," she said.
He gave her an odd look. "Neither are you." He reached inside his coat and pulled something out of his pocket. "I want to show you something."
Faith stared at it. Wrapped in a blue blanket with tiny smiling elephants on it was a baby.
Angel tilted his arms so she could see the baby's face.
"He has his mother's eyes, but I think he has my chin. What do you think?" He grinned at her. "He's important. You'll have to take care of him."
He thrust the baby into her arms, and she was surprised how heavy he was, like holding an anvil. She stared at the baby in wonder.
"Lost," Angel said sadly. "Lost as the rest of us. I tried so hard, but he just couldn't find his way."
The baby gurgled, then vamped out and launched itself at Faith's neck. She shouted and stumbled backward as the baby sank its fangs into her throat.
"Connor, no," Angel said sternly. "You know you can't do that."
She yanked the baby off and threw it across the alley, and as it tumbled through the air, it grew. It landed in a crouch, a full-grown boy.
"I didn't do it," he said, straightening. "Not really."
Faith looked over at Angel, but he was gone. When she looked back at the boy, he had disappeared as well. Spinning, she noticed a door set into the building behind her. She pulled it open and stepped through it.
She was in a toy store, standing in the stuffed animal section. Someone disappeared around the corner and she sprinted down the aisle. She turned the corner and skidded to a halt when she nearly ran into Katie and Elena playing darts. Covering the dart board was a picture of Angel.
Elena frowned at Faith. "You're all wet. Did you lose him?"
Katie clucked her tongue and threw a dart. It pierced Angel's heart.
"Have you seen Connor?" Faith asked.
"He's hiding," Elena said. She pointed toward the corner of the store. "Do you have a map?"
"No," Faith said. "I don't have anything."
"You'll need a map."
Katie threw another dart into Angel's heart. Faith looked down at her hands. They were full of dust.
Elena looked at Faith's hands. "He'll need that when you find him. Don't lose it, too."
Faith closed her hands around the dust.
Katie threw another dart.
Faith sat up in bed, her fists clenched around nothing.
"Are you okay?" she heard Elena whisper.
She opened her eyes and forced her hands open. She stared down at her empty palms and whispered back, "Yeah. Just…need to call Buffy."
"Is something wrong?"
"Nah, just crazy Slayer mind games," Faith muttered as she slipped out of her bed. In the orange light suffusing the room, she could see the younger girl propped up on her elbows, watching her. Next to her, Katie lay on her stomach, snoring slightly, one arm hanging off the mattress.
Faith picked up their Official Slayer Cell Phone from the room's small table, and eased the door open. It clicked softly shut behind her, and she walked as quickly as she could down the hallway, through the lobby, and out of the motel. She moved around to the side of the building and crouched down on the sidewalk, the stucco wall warm against her back.
She dialed and waited.
"Hello?"
"Buffy."
"Faith? What's wrong?" A natural reaction on Buffy's part. The two Slayers hadn't spoken to each other since their blowout over Angel when he'd taken over Wolfram & Hart. Buffy had instantly been suspicious, prepared to believe the worst, and the rest of the Scoobies followed suit. Faith was the only one who defended him. Maybe she was the only one who could understand what he was trying to do—he'd done the same thing with her.
The fact that she'd been right was little comfort now.
"These dreams we're supposed to get," Faith said, getting straight to business, "the wacky, cryptic ones. What're they like?" She'd never had a Slayer dream, and even though she knew—she knew—what her nightmare had been, she wanted confirmation.
"Wacky and cryptic pretty much sums it up," Buffy said.
"But I mean, can you tell? Do they feel different?"
A pause. "Did you have one?"
"I think so."
"Tell me."
Faith hesitated. Something inside her balked—the dream was hers. Instead, she asked, "Did Angel have a son?"
"What? No!"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure. Vampires can't have children; you know that. The last thing we need is a bunch of ankle-biting, baby vamps running around."
Faith forced that image out of head. "Does the name Connor mean anything to you?"
"No. Faith, what's going on?"
Faith put a casual edge on her voice, added a touch of relief. "Nothing, I guess. Just a weird dream."
A longer pause. "I miss him, too, Faith."
"Yeah. Sure. Look, B, I gotta go." She hung up, a familiar anger rising inside her. I miss him, too. Buffy just missed the idea of Angel. The idea of him out there, pining over her. The memory of him. That's all she'd really had for years now, an idea and a memory. And they tarnished easily. His death may have shined them back up again, but in Faith's book it was too little, too late. Besides, she was fairly certain that learning Spike was alive only to find out in the next sentence that he had died again had hit Buffy harder than Angel's death.
She pushed the old Buffy animosity aside as she pushed herself off the ground. The call had been mostly pointless. Buffy's reaction was just what Faith expected it to be—half take-charge, half dismissive—but the feeling in her gut had only intensified.
A small flicker of hope sprang to life deep inside her, casting its tiny light into the void.
Faith strode back into the motel, feeling more alive than she had in weeks.