We Are Only What We Are

"I refuse to believe there was nothing better than this in the news. Toby, there's literally a million better uses of our time."

Toby looked up from his breakfast with a single eyebrow arched. "Blimey, Faith, I had no idea you were such a Scully."

Faith was not amused. She slapped the newspaper down on the table, and some of her coffee sloshed out of its mug. Unimpressed, Toby looked down at the paper, the words Santa Fe New Mexican written in bold across the top, with Reports of Mysterious Lights in Sky Above Tularosa, New Mexico, in italics underneath.

"Toby, this is a joke."

"No, it's not," he said calmly. "It's the local newspaper. Show some respect."

She very much wanted to punch him – she wouldn't even care when she split her knuckles on his stupid cheekbones. She took another bite of her waffles and scowled hatefully. "I loathe you."

"Look," Toby sighed, deciding to stop tempting fate, "there really wasn't anything better than this. And besides, we were only Oklahoma. It was practically next door."

"Toby," said Faith with agonising slowness, "there's no such thing as aliens."

"Oh, so werewolves and ghosts and demons are all well and good, but aliens? That's where you draw the line?"

"Somebody has to draw it!"

"Faith, honestly, there's a trillion, trillion planets in this universe we call home. Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me you don't believe that even a single one of those planets could support some form of life?"

"Some form being the operative words here," she argued, gesturing wildly enough with her fork that she nearly took his eye out. "Of course life exists out there; but honestly, little green men?"

"Well, why not?"

She sighed. "Okay, let's say, for one brief, hypothetical moment, that there are aliens out there. Why the hell would they, out of the entire scope of the planet, choose Tularosa, New Mexico to appear to us?"

Toby held up his hands in surrender. "I don't pretend to know how alien logic works. Don't shoot the messenger."

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, returning her attention to what remained of her waffles. "We should just head back to Bobby's – it's only a month until Christmas. Personally, I'd rather not spend the holiday looking for aliens in the desert."

"Well, tough," said Toby. "I'm in charge, and I say we stay."

"Wow," she hummed, words stuffed full to the brim with sarcasm. "Mature."

Toby frowned, but she got the feeling he was just as frustrated with himself as he was with her. "Strange lights in the sky," he said, as if it was supposed to convince her. "There's a job here, Faith. I know it."

"Toby, we're barely an hour away from Roswell."

"Your point?"

She decided to just give up before she stabbed him with her fork. "Fine," she sighed. "We'll work the case."

"Thank you," he sniffed, lifting his English Breakfast tea to his mouth, blowing on it delicately.

For a moment Faith only stared at him, marvelling at how different he was from the day they'd met. That day, she thought he was a grouchy, self-righteous prick. And well, she hadn't been entirely wrong, but there was more to him than that. She knew now that he was just in pain – the loss of Oliver still fresh, living this life alone for the first time in years – but back then it had just seemed like stubbornness, and a severe dislike for anyone who dared cross his path.

It had taken time, but she'd worn down his walls just as he'd worn down hers, and now they were in New Mexico, arguing about aliens over diner food and hot drinks, completely at peace with each other.

Staring at him, she realised he was her best friend. She wondered if she'd ever actually had a best friend before. Nate had been her friend, she supposed, but it was different when you were also sleeping with the person. There was something to be said for the warmth and security that came from a platonic relationship. She hadn't realised there was a hole in her life until Toby had filled it. And she realised then that she'd do anything for him – even chase alien conspiracists through the New Mexican desert.

They finished breakfast and went back to their motel. They weren't playing Feds, this time.

"Suits make these people nervous," Toby explained as he traipsed from the bathroom in distressed jeans and a simple tee-shirt with the Levi's logo across the front. "What?" he asked when she stared.

"I just don't think I've ever seen you wear anything that didn't have buttons."

"Would you shut up and change, please?"

Faith dressed similarly – in casual jeans and a tank top which she covered with her usual jacket. She was about to leave when Toby slapped a baseball cap down over her hair.

"It'll help you blend in," he said.

"Toby, I tell you this as a friend," she promised, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder, "you're taking this way too seriously."

He scowled and pushed her out the door.

Their first stop was a trailer park on the edge of the town. The woman on whose account the article had been written on lived there, and when she answered the door to her trailer, Faith had to bite down on her tongue to keep from bursting into laughter.

The woman was older, maybe in her fifties, with milky blue eyes and short grey hair that looked like she'd stuck her finger in a wall socket. She was wearing an oversize shirt with an alien cartoon on the front, the words 'I want to believe' written in sparkly pink script above its green face. Atop her hair sat a pair of floppy alien antennas hot-glued to a dollar-store headband.

Faith rocked forwards, clapping Toby on the shoulder and whispering, "You're right – totally legit."

Toby ignored her, pinning the woman with his most charming smile. "Good afternoon, ma'am," he began pleasantly. "My name's Toby, this is my partner, Faith. I hope you don't mind the intrusion, but we're currently writing a book on UFO sightings in the area, and when we saw your account in the paper this morning, we knew we had to speak to you. Might we have a few minutes of your time?"

The woman smiled, entirely too pleased with the situation she'd found herself in. "A handsome young man like you?" she asked in the voice of a life-long smoker. "You can have the whole damn day."

Toby kept the smile on his face, but it looked stuck there with glue. Faith tried not to feel too giddy.

The woman – Agnes Smyth – ducked back inside to make up some iced tea while Faith and Toby sat down in the plastic seats underneath the umbrella placed out the front of her trailer. Toby ignored the grin on Faith's lips, examining the fake flowers lining the outside of Agnes' trailer as though they were more than sticks of cheap, coloured plastic.

Agnes returned carrying a tray complete with three drinking glasses and a pitcher of tea, the ice inside rattling noisily as she moved.

"Tell me all about this book you're writing," she said eagerly, taking the seat on Toby's right and inching just a little too close for comfort. Toby tried not to be too obvious about the way he shifted awkwardly away from her, but thankfully Agnes was oblivious to his discomfort.

Toby launched into a basic explanation of their fake book as Faith poured herself a glass of iced tea. It was bitter on her tongue, but it could have been worse, and she really was thirsty.

"That sounds wonderful," Agnes simpered, keen eyes darting between the two of them. "A nice young couple like you … I wouldn't have taken you for believers."

Faith blinked, and Toby became speechless at the assumption. "No," said Faith, snorting at the mere thought. "No, no, no, no, no. We are not a couple."

Faith knew she wasn't imagining the sly smile on Agne's face. "Oh," she purred, turning predatory eyes onto Toby. "Well now, isn't that good to know?"

Toby shifted in his seat, and for as much fun as Faith was having watching him squirm, she decided to throw him a bone. She leant forwards and said, in her sweetest voice, "Can you tell us about the encounter you experienced, Agnes? We'd love to hear all about it."

Thankfully, Agnes was very eager to ramble about her glimpse of lights in the sky, so all Faith had to do was sit back and let her talk.

The story wasn't particularly outstanding, and it was pretty much verbatim what they'd read in the paper – it was late in the evening, and she'd just ducked out to check her mail when she looked up into the sky and saw three lights all evenly spaced out from each other. As she stared, they began to spin. Slowly at first, then faster, until they were nearly a blur. And then the lights shot abruptly up into the stratosphere, disappearing amongst the stars.

"And there was this feeling," said Agnes earnestly. "Like I was being watched by something."

Toby was scribbling faithfully in his little notepad, nodding along to everything Agnes was saying like they were at a TED talk. Faith tried to keep an open mind as she listened, but honestly, if the woman wasn't doing this for a quick buck and five minutes of fame, then Faith would eat her goddamn baseball cap.

"And are there a lot of UFO sightings around this area?" Toby asked intently.

"Oh yes," Agnes nodded, eager as could be. "Plenty. Though, in the last three months they've really picked up. There have been eighteen sightings in this trailer park alone – and those are only the ones I know about."

It was enough to make the laughter bubbling in Faith's chest go still. "Eighteen?"

Toby shifted forwards in his seat. "The paper only mentioned you."

"Well, I'm the only one who had the balls to call the paper, ain't I?" Agnes scoffed. "Nobody else would talk. Afraid the aliens will get 'em, I s'pose. Or the Men in Black."

"Of course," said Toby after a beat, voice ringing with politeness. It was the voice he used when he was trying desperately to keep his opinions to himself. Faith wondered at which point he'd finally be pushed over the edge. "Well, thank you for your time, Agnes. It's been very interesting."

"Should I write down my details, so you know where to send my share of the book profits?"

Faith turned away and stuffed a fist into her mouth to keep from cackling. For a moment, Toby didn't seem to know what to say. "Of course," he said again, and she took his notepad from him, scribbling down her information with laser-like focus. Faith grinned toothily over her shoulder, and Toby threatened violence with his eyes alone.

They thanked Agnes for her time once more, and once the trailer door was shut behind her, Faith wagged her eyebrows at Toby playfully. "I don't wanna jump the gun, but if you're looking for company tonight … I think you've got an in."

He was unamused. "Shut up."

"I just think the two of you really shared a connection—"

He punched her none-too-gently on the arm and she wisely stopped teasing him. "We should ask around some more," Toby suggested, scanning the trailer park with a critical eye. "Agnes said there have been over eighteen sightings here. We should see if they all match up."

They didn't match up.

One person saw a great disc rise up out of the sand and float up into the sky, while another one swore on their mother's grave that they'd seen a small pod fly over the park nearly faster than they could follow with their eyes. On guy even vowed he'd had a close encounter of the fourth kind, but he looked pretty out of it – eyes glassy and bloodshot – so Faith wasn't willing to put money on that one being in any way legitimate.

With every interview they had, Faith slowly began to realise there was something going on there. It wasn't aliens – how could it be? – but it was something.

"Convinced yet?" Toby asked that afternoon, the two of them leaving the last of the trailers in the park, stepping back out into the sun. Despite the time of year, the day was hot, and Faith had shed her leather jacket some time ago, tying the arms around her waist.

"Well, something's going on," she admitted.

"What makes you so sure?" Toby asked, a teacher gently pulling an answer from a student – helping them teach themselves, rather than shoving the knowledge down their throat.

"If it was a hoax, they'd all have the same story. The fact their encounters are all so wildly different … I dunno, I think it suggests that it's true. Or rather, that they believe it's true."

Toby glanced over at her, a hint of a smile on his lips. Faith wondered what he was thinking but decided against asking. It'd probably only embarrass the both of them. "Well then, Scully, where to next?" he asked, turning his eyes back to the road.

Faith glanced over her shoulder, lost in thought as she scanned the edge of the trailer park. Her eyes landed on a trailer she hadn't noticed before – which was shocking, because it was easily the biggest one there. Roughly the size of an eighteen-wheeler, the trailer was done up like it was a monument to Mardi Gras, with glowing paper lanterns strung along its edge and an old stone fountain out the front, a little cupid spitting water into the pool beneath it.

Faith blinked, wondering how on earth she'd managed to miss it. "We missed one," she said, nodding to the trailer before them.

Toby turned to look, a furrow in his brow. "What?"

"That one," she said. "We should check it out. It looks like the owner might be even crazier than your new girlfriend."

But Toby didn't react to the jab, narrowing his eyes at the trailer like he was trying to see through a foggy windshield. After a moment he turned back to Faith, seeming mildly concerned. "What are you talking about?"

A seed of unease took root in Faith's gut. Her muscles grew tense, and she glanced between Toby and the ostentatious trailer, her lungs growing tight. "Toby, quit being a dumbass."

Toby just looked concerned. "Faith," he said slowly, turning to stare at the spot where the trailer sat, "there's nothing there but a patch of dying grass."

Faith lifted a hand to her throat, feeling her pulse race and leap beneath her fingers. "You're telling me you can't see that trailer?" she asked, voice an octave too high. "You can't see the lanterns or the fountain or the seedy porno bead-curtain?"

Toby didn't answer, but he didn't have to. His worried and incredulous expression said it all. Faith swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Wait here," she muttered, taking a step towards the trailer that she may or may not have been actively hallucinating.

Toby threw out a hand, catching her elbow before she could walk away. "I dunno if that's such a good idea," he said, still peering at the trailer – or, to him, the empty lot – with squinted eyes. "This could be dangerous."

"It probably has something to do with the lights," she replied. She wasn't afraid – not really. Concerned, maybe, and definitely confused. But it wasn't fear she felt swelling inside of her; rather, it was a strange sort of excitement. The sharp thrill of discovering something new. "We can't just ignore it."

Toby still didn't let go of her arm. "But why are you the only one who can see it?"

"I dunno," she shrugged. "But the only way we'll ever know is if I go check it out."

Toby was reluctant, but he saw the logic clear as day. He exhaled in a rush as he let go of her arm, hand reaching for the gun at his hip. "You're armed?" he checked.

"When am I not?"

"Just – just shout if you need me," he said, looking troubled.

Faith left him with a smile, edging her way towards the giant, conspicuous trailer. She paused at the edge of the grass that existed in a perfect circle around the trailer. Now that she was closer to the boundary, she saw there was a strange sort of shimmer in the air around the home. It felt like she was looking at a mirage, only her gut told her it was all perfectly real.

She took a deep breath of dusty desert air, then stepped fully over the line made by the lush grass. The first thing she noticed was that the air inside the circle was sweet. It smelt like spun sugar and caramel chocolate. The light inside the boundary was brighter, too, and there was gentle music playing from somewhere nearby.

For a moment Faith could only stand there, staring at the new world she'd stepped into – because that was what it felt like: an entirely new world.

Unexpectedly, the front door of the trailer burst open, and out of it stomped a woman with long blonde hair, naked except for some artfully arranged vines that draped over her like some kind of sexy, gender-bent Tarzan.

"Babe, come back!" whined a voice from deep within the fancy trailer. "I said I was sorry!"

"You're a pig!" the nearly naked woman shouted back over her shoulder, storming across the lawn, kicking over plastic flamingos as she went, leaving a path of petty destruction in her wake. But she came to a sudden halt at the sight of Faith standing within the boundary, gaping at the scene like a moron. "Oh, another one?!" she trilled furiously. "You really can't control yourself, can you?"

Another figure appeared in the doorway. He was tall, wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, exposing a chest covered in hair and a necklace with a shark's tooth hanging from the chain. His hair was dark, and he was handsome, but not in a classical sort of way. More in a strange, eclectic sense; like a painting you didn't entirely understand but appreciated, nonetheless.

His eyes – a rich, striking blue – scanned over Faith and seemed to dismiss her as irrelevant in the time it took for him to reach her shoes from her hairline. "Come on, babe," he whined, strolling barefoot down the stairs and padding across the grass towards the near-naked woman. "I don't even know who that is!"

"You said nobody would know we were here!" the wild woman shrieked.

"I didn't tell her," Mr. Shark-Tooth-Necklace insisted. "Come on – cut me a break—"

But the woman didn't stick around to listen. She let out a frustrated huff, then seemed to twist on the spot, disappearing in a blur of green. There one second, gone the next. Faith stared at the spot she'd been standing, feeling vaguely like somebody had hit her over the head.

The Hawaiian-shirt-wearing-man – whoever he was – cursed in a language Faith didn't recognise, then turned his attention to her, eyes narrowing into pinpricks. "Thanks for that," he said sourly.

Faith had no idea what was happening. She stared at him stupidly, wondering if she should be reaching for her gun. Something deep inside told her it would be pointless, but shouldn't she at least try?

"Did you need something?" he demanded. "Want to ruin my dinner plans, too?"

It took a moment for Faith to find her voice. She should…stick to the story? "I'm, er, my friend and I – we're writing a book on UFO sightings in the area—"

"Look kid, do us both a favour and don't waste my time with lies," the nameless man snapped, looking irritated as he bent down to right all the tacky lawn decorations the near-naked woman had kicked over in her fit of rage.

Faith let out a small squeak of offence at how quickly he'd seen through her. She shouldn't have been surprised, of course, yet it still stung. "I'm not lying—"

"Yes. You are." He righted the last flamingo, then stood straight and glared at her. The force of his ire was terrifying, and Faith shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, ready to run if it came down to it. She stared back at him, trying desperately to think of something clever to say, but he beat her to the punch. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, going from annoyed to shrewd in a heartbeat.

"Uh … no," she blurted, because clearly lying wasn't an option.

The man snorted. "Halflings," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Who do you belong to?" he demanded at a louder volume. "Huh? You're not one of Demeter's, are you? Oh goddess, tell me you're not Dionysus'. If he's looking to cash in that favour I owe him, tell him now's not a good time – no matter how pretty his messenger spawn may be."

Faith had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. She stared at him some more, feeling so supremely out of her depth, she may as well have been treading water in the goddamn Marianas Trench.

Whoever this guy was, at her silence he seemed to finally realise she truly had no idea what was going on. One bushy eyebrow climbed up his forehead.

"Huh," he hummed like an academic eyeing a chessboard. "Well, I'll be. You really don't have a clue, do you?"

He took a seat on one of the lawn chairs sprawled across his lush yard. Holding out a hand, he flicked his wrist subtly. Like magic, a large piña colada appeared in his hand. Faith's blood ran cold as he calmly brought the straw to his lips and began to obnoxiously slurp.

"Who are you?" Faith managed to ask, frustrated when her voice came out weak.

"Ah, ah," he wagged a finger in her direction. "I think the real question is, who are you?" Faith opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could speak. "If you lie, I'll know."

A warning, and also a threat.

Gritting her teeth, Faith glanced over her shoulder to see Toby still stood at the edge of the perfect grass. He was staring into the area of the trailer, but his eyes were glassy and unfocused. He couldn't see them – but still, he made no move to step within the boundary. Glancing back at the nameless creature before her, Faith found him smirking.

"Humans," he said in the sort of voice a normal human might use to say the word 'puppies'. As if they were cute, but ultimately unimportant beyond the joys of being kept as pets. "I assume he's with you?"

"Why can't he see us?" she demanded.

His smirk had widened nearly an impossible amount. "Because I don't want him to."

"And what, you can do anything you want?"

He laughed. "Basically, yeah."

"Who are you?"

"You, first."

Faith set her jaw but saw no way out of this conversation other than to just be honest. "Faith Bueller."

"Faith Bueller," he echoed slowly, like he was tasting it on his tongue. She didn't like it, wanted to snatch her name back from his mouth and hide it deep within herself, where he wouldn't be able to reach. "Now, why is that name so familiar?"

Faith didn't answer, and his clear eyes sharpened to pinpricks.

"You're a hunter," he said, no give in his voice. It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

She felt a quiver in her bones. "How did you know that?"

"Please," he snorted. "You're practically screaming it. The way you stand, the way you smell. Fates, I can even see that little gun you've got stuffed in your pants. If you were trying to hide it, you're doing a terrible job."

Faith shifted her weight again, uncomfortable with how much he seemed to see. "Your turn," she said, jerking her chin sharply.

The unknown man grinned, exposing a set of perfectly white teeth. "You can call me Dolos," he said proudly, sweeping out a hand as if to present himself to her, a piece of artwork at a gallery.

She arched a brow. "Is that your real name?"

His grin widened into something sharp. "Sometimes."

"Dolos," she said shrewdly, tasting his name, too. "What are you?"

"Nothing you can kill, if that's what you're thinking. Besides, I'm one of the good guys. Well, that might be overstating things," he added as an afterthought. "I don't tend to kill people, at least. The bar for good guys is awfully low these days, isn't it? Funny how times change."

"Are you capable of giving a straight answer?"

He beamed, taking another noisy sip of his cocktail. "What I want to know," he said smoothly, ignoring her question with all the blithe confidence of a man without fear, "is why you don't know any of this already."

She frowned. "Why would I?"

Dolos laughed and gave a gesture that was barely even a flicking of his wrist. A piña colada appeared in her hand, materialising from nothing. Faith stared dumbly, eyes tracing over the silly straw and the chunk of pineapple and the little pink umbrella sticking out of it.

The answer came to her suddenly, and she felt stupid for not realising it sooner. "You're a trickster."

Dolos beamed. "I'm many things." He nodded at the drink she now held. "Go on, drink up. I swear it's not poisoned."

"Oh, well, if you swear," she muttered. The creature before her laughed.

"Tell me, Faith Bueller," he began, settling down deeper in his chair like he was preparing for a long conversation, "who are your parents? Were you adopted?"

The question caught her off guard, and Faith frowned warily. "No," she said, then realised that wasn't entirely true.

So did Dolos, and the happy-go-lucky smile slid from his face, making him look like something out of one of Bobby's old tomes. "I smell lies like sharks smell blood," he reminded her darkly. "It isn't wise to test me."

Faith could suddenly see the centuries in his eyes, and she swallowed nervously, her throat too dry. "What I mean is," she tried again, "my dad took off around the time I was born, and then my mom a few months later. I was never adopted – I got bounced around the system."

"So, you never met your father."

She hesitated just long enough to make his eyes light up with glee. "No."

Dolos seemed to read in her face everything she wasn't saying. He was good at that, she sensed. Maybe he couldn't directly read her thoughts, but maybe he could do something just close enough. She felt naked in front of him, and desperately wanted to reach for a weapon. She sensed he wouldn't like that, though.

"You've had suspicions for a while now, haven't you?" he asked. "That your old pops wasn't normal?" Faith said nothing, but his lips still quirked knowingly. "Tell me, what can you do?"

She genuinely had no idea what he meant by that. "Do?"

"Y'know, special talents?" he pressed, mixing his drink with the end of his purple silly straw.

She could blow perfect smoke rings, and she'd always been weirdly great at karaoke, but she had a feeling that those weren't the kinds of talents he was talking about.

"Maybe you can smell lies…" he suggested, voice like the morning mist crawling over an empty field, "…or drop men to their knees with just a bat of those pretty brown eyes. Or perhaps you're clever, too clever for mortal heads… Maybe lightning calls to you like music, and you can feel electricity in your veins instead of blood…"

Faith realised what he was asking. She wasn't so sure she should be honest, but even despite the fact that she wouldn't get away with a lie, some part of her wanted to tell the truth. She felt like the answers she'd been searching out for so long now were right there, all she had to do was reach out and take them.

"I'm good with weapons," she heard herself day, balling her free hand into a fist to hide the way it trembled. She took a gulp of her drink, past the point of caring whether it was poisoned. It tasted like the best piña colada she'd ever had – something straight off the Spanish coast. She wanted to drink the whole thing in one go but managed to stop herself after only a few deep gulps.

To her surprise, when she glanced up at Dolos, he looked unimpressed by her revelation. "You're good with weapons," he parroted tonelessly.

She felt stupid bringing it up at all, but something urged her to press on. "I can use weapons I've never touched before. Like the way they work is already written in my head – or in my hands. My aim was nearly perfect my first time holding a gun, and I once made an impossible shot with a bow that saved our lives in a bad situation."

Light appeared in Dolos' eyes, the kind that came along with an idea, and a hunger.

"You're good at fighting, too," he said, just to the right of eager. "Unnaturally good. You look at an opponent and instinctively know their weaknesses. You look at a battleground and know where best to make your stand. You're stronger than you should be. And you fight like you have battles in your bones."

Her face went pale, hearing Nate's words echoed back to her on Dolos' lips. The Trickster grinned like he'd won the goddamn lottery, and she'd never wanted to punch someone more.

"Well," he preened, "I'll be damned."

Faith waited impatiently for him to explain. But he didn't – he just calmly sipped his stupid cocktail, a mischievous look on his handsome face. He wanted her to ask the question. Wanted to make her say it. And though she did, it wasn't without difficulty.

"What am I?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked arrogantly, leaning back on his lawn chair and grinning. "You're a demigod."

There was no extended beat of silence. There was just her own incredulity. "A demigod?" she spluttered. Dolos' wide, haughty grin never faltered. "A demigod," she said again, beginning to giggle hysterically. Her head was spinning. "Oh, okay, all right, so you're just crazy!"

Dolos chuckled. "Afraid not, Child of War," he said, finishing off the last of his cocktail and dropping the empty glass from his hand. It disappeared into nothing long before it hit the grass. "This is all terribly real."

The hysterical amusement was slowly beginning to turn into a panicked sort of anger. Like someone trapped in a falling elevator, angry at the police, angry at the builders of the elevator, angry at God for not being more merciful. And the whole time still catapulting towards her death.

"Who the hell are you, exactly?" she demanded hotly, rage and panic burning through her like a forest fire. "And why the fuck should I believe anything you say?"

Dolos swept smoothly to his feet, and he was so much taller now than he had been before, towering over her like a giant. He was both skyscraper and human at the same time, like one image laid over another. He was everywhere, looming with terrible fury, and she was struck by the terrible knowledge that this being could kill her right there – could just obliterate her; a fly caught in the path of a hurricane.

Faith stumbled backwards as his beady eyes flashed a deep, glowing purple. She watched civilisations rise and fall in his eyes.

"I am Dolos," he said in a voice that rang with a thousand screams, "Greek god of trickery and guile, apprentice to the Titan Prometheus, and most powerful trickster on the face of this insignificant little planet."

He was a god of lies, Faith told herself, he was a trickster – he'd just admitted it. It was more likely a lie than any sort of truth. Her lungs felt tight; her mouth was dry. "I'm not a demigod," she said, more a whisper than a declaration. She cleared her throat. "I'm human!"

Whatever rage had gripped him, it melted away, and the giant spectre before her shrank, an unassuming man once more taking its place. He smirked, mood changing like the weather.

"Sure you are," he piped, materialising another cocktail into existence, this time a sparkling martini with a wedge of lime hooked over the rim. "Well," he paused, considering her with that same, lazy smirk, "half, anyway."

Faith turned away from him, reaching up to thread her fingers into her hair, tugging at the strands and relishing the pull at her scalp. Her mind was a tornado, sweeping back over her life of memories, trying to make it make sense.

Demigod – it didn't even feel real. And there was no way it could be true, was there? She wasn't half-human, she'd know. Deep down in her gut, from the moment she'd been born, she'd have known there was something different about her, wouldn't she? There would have been some sign.

"I can see you can't accept the truth," said Dolos from behind her. "If it helps convince you any, only the spawn of a god would be able to find me as you did. It's impossible for anyone but a Child of Olympus to enter my realm – like your handsome friend, over there," he added, nodding to Toby, who still stood somewhat dazedly at the edge of the property, as if caught in a living dream. Faith stared at him, thoughts swirling. "Congratulations," Dolos added cheerfully. "You're god-spawn."

Faith tugged at her hair again. "I don't want to be god-spawn."

"We are rarely what we want to be," the god of trickery replied sagely. "We are only what we are."

A lawn chair appeared from thin air underneath her and Faith didn't even stop to gawk before falling into it. She took another deep gulp of the sweet cocktail in her hand, relishing the aftertaste of alcohol.

"Aren't you gonna ask?" Dolos wondered, slowly sipping his own drink, head tipped back to soak up the sun's rays.

Feeling vaguely like she was having an out-of-body experience, Faith could only numbly say, "Ask what?"

"Whose blood you share?" he pressed. "It's kind of the elephant in the room here, kiddo."

Some distant part of her bristled at being called 'kiddo', but she was too lost in her shock to snap at him for it. She threw back another mouthful of her piña colada, knowing she needed the strength. "Who?" she rasped, resisting the urge to shut her eyes like a fighter expecting a blow.

But Dolos clicked his tongue. "That information won't come free."

"What?"

Dolos was reclined lazily in his chair, looking half bored with the conversation, like he had better things to do than sit there and tear apart everything she thought she knew about herself, the world, and how she fit into it.

He lifted his head and opened one eye. "Well, what do I look like, here? A public service?"

"What do you want?" she asked quickly, well aware she was playing with fire. A deal with a Trickster? It was arguably even more dangerous than a deal with a demon; or at the very least, more unpredictable. This wasn't an easy, quantifiable transaction. This was a contract full of pitfalls and loopholes, just waiting to be tripped into and caught by unawares.

Dolos slashed a grin that spoke of nothing but trouble. "A favour."

Faith blinked dubiously. "A favour?"

"Gods don't trade in money or jewels," he told her with a curl of his lip, like the thought alone disgusted him. "There are more valuable currencies in this world."

"Favours?" she asked. Faith couldn't imagine any favour she could do this literal god would be more valuable than cold hard cash, but she wasn't about to argue with a deity. Even she knew that would lead nowhere good.

Dolos grinned. "They make the world go round, baby."

Faith shifted her weight, weighing her choices carefully. "Well, what's the favour?"

"I don't know."

"…You don't know?"

"It's TBD."

She wondered, in a distant, foggy way, whether she was being Punk'd right now. Was Dean and/or Ashton Kutcher about to leap out from behind the trailer with a bunch of cameras and let her know how much of a fool he'd made her look?

"TBD?" she parroted, incredulous. She knew the figure before her was a god, but when it spoke like that – like some stoned college kid – it was a little harder to actively believe.

Dolos rolled his eyes. "Let's just say you would owe me one."

Faith stared, half expecting laughter. When none came, she narrowed her eyes. "Why would I do that?"

He shrugged and snapped his fingers, a fat cigar appearing with a comical pop. "I suppose it just depends how badly you want this information," he said, sliding the cigar between his teeth and lighting its end with the tip of his thumb.

Faith carefully considered her options. In the end, it all came down to one simple truth: there were plenty of places she could get answers – but owing this psycho a favour of his choosing? She'd rather stick her face in boiling French fry oil.

"Not badly enough, I'm afraid," she finally replied. Dolos' expression didn't change. He just puffed on his cigar, blowing the cloying smoke in her face. "I'll take my chances elsewhere."

"Okie doke," said the trickster with a shrug. "If that's your choice."

Faith pursed her lips, steeling herself, and nodded. Dolos grinned around the thick puff of the cigar and winked.

"You've got a long way to go, kiddo," he said, sounding almost sympathetic as he peered at her closer. "I don't envy the path you're on."

"What, you see the future, too?"

Dolos just shrugged. "I'm afraid much of your tale is already written."

Faith opened her mouth to ask what the fuck that was supposed to mean, but he cut her off before she had a chance.

"I will give you one piece of advice for free, though," he said, leaning towards her in his lawn chair. Taking the bait, Faith shuffled to the edge of hers, too. "Never – no matter what may come in the future – never, under any circumstances…cockblock me again."

With that said Dolos lifted a hand, snapped his fingers, and everything from the trailer to the gaudy flamingos to the lawn chair under her ass disappeared in a flash. Faith fell to the dead, flattened patch of grass where Dolos' trailer had once been, tailbone hitting the ground with a thump.

"Dolos?" she shouted, sat on her ass staring out at the empty lot, suddenly feeling like she belonged in a locked ward.

"Faith?" a familiar voice called back, but it was just Toby jogging towards her, a bewildered look on his face.

"Oh, now you see me," she grumbled, rubbing her ass as she climbed to her feet. The world felt different, now. The ground firmer under her feet, the air a little crisper, the sun a little brighter. Maybe that was what the truth did to a person; it put things into focus.

"What the hell just happened?" Toby demanded, grabbing her by the shoulder and giving her a once-over. "And why do I feel distinctly like I've been standing in an airport queue for eleven hours?"

She shot him a weird look, but then figured that was probably just another shitty gift of Dolos. It certainly seemed like the sort of thing he'd do. Faith glanced at the patch where he'd been, opening her mouth to answer but finding her throat tight. One conversation and her whole understanding of herself had been upheaved.

"Faith?"

She looked back at Toby, jaw set. He was staring, and she knew in that moment that she couldn't do this alone. It was dangerously stupid to tell anyone – especially another hunter – that she might be something less than 100% human. But this wasn't a burden she could shoulder alone, and she knew it. If wanted to get through this – and figure out the remaining pieces of this very confusing puzzle, she'd need help.

And, truth was, she trusted Toby. He was also all she had left, but that was neither here nor there.

"We should find the closest bar," she said, the words coming out strangled, like Dolos' hand was squeezed tight around her throat. "This conversation's going to require alcohol."


A/N: Hi guys, sorry for a break between updates – planning a wedding is hard work!

I hope you enjoyed this one. I've certainly got a soft spot for it.

Next time: Faith makes a mistake on a job and gets a little one-on-one time with the Winchester's old pal, Henriksen. And he's been looking forward to getting a chance to speak with her.