Faith POV, Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles

"As far as I'm aware – the prison records of you have been completely expunged." Angel handed Faith a cup of black tea, which she accepted, even though she felt dubious about how it would taste. Angel's own mug was whisked out of the microwave, steaming hot with blood. Both of them lurked in the main kitchen, where a pile of dirty plates and cutlery clogged up the sink. The kitchen was huge, originally designed to cater for a full hotel worth of guests, with ovens side by side, long rows of preparation tables, and the more immediate tools dangling from hooks, such as corinders and stirrers. Faith lounged in a chair she'd dragged from the lobby, elbows resting on one of the preparation tables. Angel stood opposite on the other side.

"They were a bit confused when you just vanished out of their prison. The LAPD checked here as a potential hiding place for you."

Faith nodded, bemused by the recollection of events. When she came back into the world – she popped up in the same place she was left in from the other reality – near the Pit in Prague. Two days of utter confusion later, she managed to contact Angel with an international call, and the equally confused vampire had shipped her back into the states shortly after.

"I find it encouraging though - to know the Angel in the other world helped you, too." Angel grinned at her. He sipped at his mug, one hand tucked in his pocket.

"Find it weird. Not that I'm complaining or anything." Faith tried the tea. Not bad. She headed to the fridge, opening it to get the green-topped milk out. She also put a couple pinches of sugar in the mixture, testing the contrast in flavour. "Didn't know where else to go. So glad he did what he did."

"I find it hard to believe." Angel's eyes drilled into her, as if trying to read her mind, "How you still think you're bad, after all this. From what you've told me … you did everything by the book. You helped another world. You helped save it, even. And you're doing good here."

"Yeah," she confirmed. A small smirk danced on her lips at the memory. She had helped. Was that pride on Angel's face, as he looked at her? "But I'm still not fixed." She shook her head, trying to sort out her thoughts. How could she explain? She still remembered the rush of intoxicating pleasure when she tortured Wesley. She still remembered how much she had fucked everything up, the people she had killed, and being back in this world gave her a lot of time to consider."I'm still wrong inside."

"Your powers are wasted in prison," Angel said, softly.

Faith set her jaw in a stubborn line. "They're wasted on me." I don't deserve anything good. Yet good things happened to her. And people forced her nowadays to do good things. Or was she forced? Did she actually want to do them? It drove her near insane with second guessing everything all the time.

"Don't you do that to yourself. It's annoying." Angel scowled. "I'll be the judge of what's wasted. And I never thought you were a waste of space."

"Thanks," she replied, dry. She then spent a long time silent before answering. "Find it odd how much … faith," her mouth twisted at the word, "- you put in me. But long as you believe, then guess I gotta act on that. Right?"

"Good enough." Angel's handsome face crinkled in a smile, a kind one, with a flicker of something else. Respect? Concern? It hurt and confused Faith a little bit, seeing that someone could smile at her like that, like she was worth something.

Both Angels did that.

Maybe she was just a sucker for kindness. The mayor, after all, manipulated her on that. But even then, after all the take-over-the-world-scary-snake-demon stuff, even after the things he had encouraged her to do, the pain she had inflicted to Buffy and her friends, even nearly killing Angel - she still thought of the mayor as the closest thing she had to a father.

And Angel had forgiven her. Maybe even Buffy now, even though the blonde hadn't spoken to her at all in the four months back home.

To think they really could forgive her. How fucked up was that?

Faith put her hands in her lap after she put the mug of tea on the prep table, and sat back down in her chair.

"I'm fine with you here. Wesley is still slow to forgive you, but he accepts you working here for the team. Cordelia is Cordelia. And you've been a big help. Honestly. We could continue to do with a Slayer working for the firm."

The irony was not lost on Faith. "A Slayer, working for a vamp."

"Yeah, well. I'm a nice vamp. I do nice things. I gave you tea."

"True." Reminded of the tea, Faith gulped some more of it.

"And you get paid."

"Really?" Faith frowned. "How come I ain't seen any cash yet, then?"

"Because you never asked. It's in your bank account."

"I have a bank account?"

"Yes. Cordelia made one for you. What did you think this was, a slave hotel?"

Faith, lightened by the news of the bank account, stroked fingers against her palms. "Well. Wasn't gonna say."

"Huh! Slave hotel. You think that little of me, Slayer?"

At that moment, Wesley walked into the room. Upon spotting Faith, his eyes, previously bright with intent, glowered and became wary. His movement became slower as he circled away from Faith, reaching Angel on the other side of the table.

"Angel. Faith." He barely glanced at her. It shamed Faith down to the bone, seeing his mannerisms. She wouldn't be surprised if he never forgave her. And why should he ?

"The new employee has arrived."

"She accepted?" Angel raised his head in surprise.

"Yes. She didn't give much warning before turning up in L.A, though."

"New employee?" Faith clasped her hands together, glancing at both Wesley and Angel in enquiry.

Angel appeared a little guilty as he smiled at her. "Yeah. Buffy phoned me up to recommend it. She says: 'Hi', by the way. Wants to meet up with you at some point."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Inwardly, something fluttered. Hope? Happiness?

When she had found out Buffy lived, and had settled back on this world – Faith's initial reaction was relief. Sheer relief. But then, Buffy made no effort to contact her over the next few months. And it wasn't like Faith could just casually pick up the phone to say hi. She was a fugitive – and she couldn't be sure how much Buffy remembered of her experience in the other world. Or if Buffy wanted to remember.

"Lets go and meet her. She's in the lobby?" Angel finished off his mug and placed it on the draining board.

"Yes," Wesley answered, "Cordelia is keeping her entertained."

Cautious, Faith walked behind the two men, also feeling a tiny stab of irritation at Wesley's persistance in avoiding her. She understood why, of course she did – but still. She used her tongue to daub off the remainder of the black tea on her teeth. Down the corridor, across the hallway to the reception and lobby, she saw the new employee.

Her eyes went flat. "You're fucking kidding me."

Wesley noted her reaction in interest. "The Council wanted to assign a new Watcher to you if you were leaving prison for good. And since I am exiled … this woman was the recommendation placed forward."

"You're fucking kidding," Faith repeated. "I don't need that one." She retreated back to the doorway.

The woman headed to Angel. Cordelia, manning the reception desk, had a bored expression on her face, which transformed into a smirk when she witnessed Faith's reaction. The Watcher, dressed in formal black and white work clothes, hair knotted in a bun, held out her hand to Angel.

"Hello. You must be Angel. It's not often in my career I encounter a vampire like you."

Angel accepted the hand and shook. "Thanks. You know Wesley and Cordelia, I guess. This is Faith Lehane."

"Yes." The woman directed her brown eyes to Faith. They crinkled in inspection. "I'm Voirrey Saunders. And you look like you're about to explode, young lady."

Faith stalked away, muttering to herself.

"She'll get over it," Angel said.