The problem with rushing out of somewhere angry as hell is that there is always a moment when you calm down, realize you've left your wallet, or keys, or sometimes your underwear and/or bra, at the place you ran out of. And you know that it would be really embarrassing to go back and get it.

Being "hot blooded" is just an idiom. It surely doesn't mean that you can stay warm on some cold night in the middle of November in frickin' Ohio without a coat.

Faith was freezing her tits off.

She had quickly wandered God knows how many blocks before the cold overwhelmed her anger and sadness and she realized that not only was she lost but she didn't have her jacket, wallet or cell phone.

The part of Cleveland the Council's headquarters was in wasn't exactly bad but it wasn't going to be featured on one of those home shows Dean pretended he didn't like to watch either.

Giles had called it hiding in plain sight. There were enough wayward teenagers and petty disturbances that no one would bat an eyelash at anything they were doing. Nail a cheap sign to the front gate saying something about orphaned girls or reforming children and the neighbors were guaranteed to not want to have anything to do with your business.

It worked better than any glamour Willow and her witches could put on the place.

Unfortunately it also meant that there was no use in Faith asking any of the other poor shivering fools she passed by how to get back to the house.

She couldn't even remember the address. Yeah she'd lived at the place for a year, but that along with a lot of other memories from her time in Cleveland got trashed the second she took off from the place.

She thought she could remember the house's phone number but with no money pay phones were out.

The edges of the crushed photo scratched her through the front pocket of her jeans. The rubbing got more annoying and a little more painful with every step but she couldn't bring herself to throw the picture away.

She shoved it into her pocket the moment before she slammed the front door open and began sloshing through the snow, away from the house.

She had so thoroughly embarrassed herself there was no way she could go back to the house without some sort of explanation. Not so much to Giles and his crew but to Dean.

What the hell was she going to tell him? She barely understood what was happening herself.

And then there was the test result…

Faith shivered some more and stomped some of the packed snow from the underside of her boots.

It was getting colder and it had begun to snow. She really needed to find a place to get warmed up.

It really wouldn't matter what she figured out to say to Dean if she froze to death.

Up ahead, she saw a sign indicating the location of a corner bar.

She quickly crossed the street, ducking into the bar just as the snow fall turned from moderate to heavy.

Faith basked in the sudden warmth, shaking flakes of snow from her hair and shirt and stomping her feet to get rid of the tingling feeling in her toes.

When she finished, she turned to see every eye in the place staring at her. The patrons of this fine establishment were a collection of around a dozen middle-aged men. The distance between them and the beers they were nursing determined by the prominence of their beer guts, which were bathed in the weird blue glow of an ancient TV, broadcasting the Browns getting the crap kicked out of them again.

There wasn't another female in sight.

Faith held back a predatory smile. She flipped her hair back in a move that a shampoo commercial model would envy and sauntered towards the grungy bar. She didn't have to worry about not having any money or being able to make a phone call now.

But all that can wait, she thought. After all the crap she'd dealt with in the last few days, she deserved a drink.

She set herself on the nearest open bar stool. She shot a look at the guy on her right, who tomorrow, she was sure, wouldn't be able to recall whether she was a brunette or blond or be able to provide any other description about her because he was too busy gawking at the way her nipples were trying to poke through her t-shirt.

It had been DAMN cold outside.

Faith smiled at the man, flashing her dimples.

She got nice and settled in, nodded to the bartender and ordered herself a beer, courtesy of her new pervy friend.

Two hours and an enormous amount of alcohol later she was officially shitfaced and had long exhausted her perverted buddy Gerald's generosity. He'd bet on the Browns to win and was a little short.

The bartender, whose name swear to God was Moe, took pity on her and allowed her to run a tab, which normally he was reluctant to do with people who weren't regulars.

As she drank more and repeatedly teased the friendly barman about when Homer was going to show up, she forgot why she'd ended up in Moe's bar in the first place.

Raising her empty beer mug again, trying to signal Moe to give her a refill, she noticed that the crowd had thinned. It was late and there were only about half the people in the bar as when she came in. Bleary eyed she looked around at who was left.

There were the same two guys at the other end of the bar. She'd entertained herself a little by letting the one on the left, who was named either Jim or Joe, she couldn't remember, think he maybe had a shot. She led him on long enough to get some buffalo wings and three shots of JD out of him.

When he suggested they call it a night, she spun some tale about how they'd have to hurry if they wanted make it back to her parent's place before her strapping hot-tempered boyfriend got home with the kids.

"He beat the living crap outta the last old guy I brought home." Faith 'recalled' barely suppressing a giggle. "But it's all good now, they accept each other. After all, old or not, he is the father of third one. And there's no reason to be jealous because all I wanted from the geezer was the 600 a month in child support anyway."

Jim or Joe, slunk back to his position next to his drinking buddy, fear in his eyes, stammering as he apologized about "Not wanting to keep her from her children, ahem."

Drunk, Faith openly guffawed as she looked at the man now.

Sucker.

Two bar stools down from those two was another man who had kept his eyes on the TV the entire time.

Moe had his back to her and was talking on the phone.

She teetered on the stool as she twisted around to see who was on the other side of the room.

She hadn't noticed there was a pool table when she came in. She really couldn't be blamed though. It was dark even for a seedy bar and in that part of the room the only light was the weak one over the pool table.

Even with her enhanced vision she couldn't really make out the people who were playing.

What she could see was that the pool game had just ended and both of the vague human-shaped forms were moving towards the back door.

The sight of the pool table briefly sparked a flickering memory of Dean and some other vague feeling of worry but the alcohol in her blood obliterated any chance of those thoughts joining and forming a more coherent and insistent idea.

Another feeling passed over her. This was a sharp and sure tingling feeling that no matter how weakened her will, was always able to blaze a clear trail straight to her conscious mind.

One of those people was a vampire.

How she had missed that feeling she didn't know but she needed to get to that back door.

She tried to get off the barstool but it apparently had grown 6 feet in height since she first sat on it. Her right foot groped at the floor while she delicately tried to slide off the stool.

The two people were out the back door. Faith, desperate to get to them, gave herself an extra push and lurched off the stool.

She stumbled a bit, finally reaching the door and opened it silently as she could to peer outside.

In this darkness she could see much better. The men were further down the back alley and were talking animatedly. The taller man of the two said something that must have been pretty bad because the shorter man moved closer and stuck his finger in the guy's face.

On instinct Faith reached behind her for the stake she kept in the back of her jeans.

She hit nothing but air.

She twisted her neck around to look behind her and sure enough her stake wasn't there.

"Fuuuuck." she slurred to herself," I freaking need to get something I can attach to a keychain or something."

Supporting herself against the door, as she tried to gage what was happening, she thought that a Swiss Army knife for slaying was a pretty good idea. She should tell Sam about that.

That theory was the missing puzzle piece her mind needed to assemble a reminder that the reason why she was here slaying pool playing vamps was because she had stormed out of the Council's headquarters and Dean was probably looking for her right now.

"You motherfucker!"

Faith didn't get the chance to drunkenly brood about abandoning him because the tall guy now had a bloody nose was now standing over the little guy, yelling his head off.

"You stupid son of a bitch! I'll fucking gut you for that!" The tall guy began to reach into his jacket pocket.

Faith realized how bad the situation had gotten. She had no weapons and if he was reaching for a gun she could stop him but she needed to be fast.

But that would be hard when she was drunk and the ground was covered in snow.

She sighed at her bad luck and considered her other options. Realizing that there weren't any that didn't involve the guy on the ground possibly being shot, she decided to go out there anyway.

Just as she was about to take off a hand grabbed onto her shoulder.

"You neeth to pay before you leaf."

She recognized the lisping voice as Moe's but she was so focused on the scene outside that she dismissed him.

"Dude, I will. But right now, you gotta get the hell offa me." Faith said still looking at the fight outside. She jerked her shoulder forward to dislodge his hand.

It didn't work. The hand on her shoulder not only remained but the grip got stronger.

"Bitch you gotta pay."

That was a different voice. She whipped herself around to see just who she needed to pummel for making that comment.

Moe was so ugly that his vampire face was an improvement. He was practically crushing her shoulder and the hand to her throat he added in her second of shock at seeing him didn't help.

Jim or Joe's visage wasn't much better and the smile he had did nothing to break up the evil.

Jim or Joe raised a small metal baseball bat above his head.

Faith was still drunk but she fought back. Unfortunately, the punch she hit Moe with didn't get a reaction.

Jim or Joe swung the bat hitting her squarely on the side of her head.

Faith was unconscious before she hit the floor.

Sucker.