It had taken Tara almost a month of preparation to hoodwink the trace she and other "Under Surveillance" persons in Sunnydale carried. Now, standing outside, in front of the large welcome sign, she was able to breathe somewhat freely for the first time in nine months.

The road to Sunnydale was completely empty in both directions – not surprisingly this early in the day. In twelve hours, the situation would be totally different. Tara looked at her watch. 08:29, a minute ahead of the agreed upon time.

There were no roadblocks or guard posts. None were needed under normal circumstances. The... people in charge had other means to keep the residents in and unwanted visitors out.

Two minutes later she spotted a car approaching her on the lane that led to Sunnydale. She sighed in relief. Angel had kept his promise.

The car stopped with a screech next to her, and a slightly androgynous young man opened the passenger door for her.

"Tara Maclay, right?" the boy queried, sounding slightly bored as Tara leaned in for a closer look. "The name's Connor. Angel sent me."

"What's he to you?" Tara asked for confirmation.

"He's my dad, ok?" Connor answered with a slight sneer. "My mother was Darla. Both were members of the Whirlwind with Drusilla and Spike. Good enough?"

"For now," Tara nodded and stepped into the car.

Northern California Women's Facility in Stockton was not a place for rehabilitation. It had high, forbidding stone walls, razor wire, and the meanest guards CDCR had ever employed. It was a nasty hive of women in jumpsuits whom the State wanted to punish for their transgressions and then mostly forget about.

The average sentence of the inmates was just shy under 10 years. Faith Lehane was in for a murder two and an involuntary manslaughter. She had been sentenced to 25-to-life, eligible for parole in 15.

In the two-plus-change years in the slam, she had made a reputation for herself as someone not to be messed with. As a fish the old-timers had naturally noticed the gorgeous, young brunette, and Faith knew that at least one fatal stabbing had occurred over the right to claim her. She had initially tried to stay clear of confrontations but, ultimately, was unable to isolate herself from prison "etiquette".

She had sent five women to the infirmary with broken bones and received a two-week stint in solitary for that. She had only had to repeat the lesson publicly once more before everyone left her pretty much alone. After a few months she had also been transferred to a single cell as her cellmates tended to suffer from inexplicable injuries more than was usual.

In normal prison hierarchy she would have been pretty much the top cat, but as it was, she remained a rogue by choice, but an untouchable one at that.

Angel was the only one from her "old life" who had ever contacted her during the two-and-a-quarter years she had spent behind bars. He had visited her somewhat regularly maybe once a month until approximately a year ago when even those visits stopped altogether.

Then, one night, shortly after Angel's last visit, she had suddenly woken up in cold sweat feeling like she was about to have a heart attack. She had practically whimpered and bitten her pillow to avoid crying out loud. The pain had become so severe that for a moment she thought she would really die before stopping just as abruptly as it had started.

It left her with a hollow, empty feeling that had never been there before. She knew right away what it meant.

Buffy was dead.

She had immediately tried to contact Angel through the only contact she had, her lawyer, but never received a response. So, for the past months she had been just a shadow of herself, withdrawing even more to herself than before. Her reputation continued to keep her "safe", but now even those inmates she had been somewhat amiable towards were leaving her pretty much completely alone.

"Lehane, a visitor!" The shout made Faith almost drop the barbell on her chest. Who the fuck would be visiting her now? Angel and her lawyer were the only ones on the pre-approved list, and she had received visitations from neither in roughly a year.

Annoyed but still secretly intrigued she followed the guard back inside and to the visitors' centre. When she reached the booth assigned to her, she completely stopped in her tracks and had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing right. In the opposite booth, beyond the safety glass, sat a very attractive blonde girl, maybe a year or two older than herself, who was looking back at her in open curiosity and, surprisingly, without even a hint of hostility in her features.

She had to have spaced out for a few seconds as the girl waved at her to get her attention and pointed at the receiver she was already holding against her ear.

Still a bit stunned she sat down and somewhat gingerly picked up her own phone.

"Hello, Faith," the girl greeted her, showing a bit of a smile. That was completely unexpected. No one, except perhaps Angel, had been glad to see her in ages.

"Don't mean to be rude," Faith started as neutrally as she could. "But who the hell are you?"

"Right, you wouldn't remember," the girl nodded in understanding. "My name's Tara. We met once, briefly, in the Bronze."

The Bronze. That meant Sunnydale. Now slightly more guarded, Faith tried to rack her memory on how she might know the girl. She was fairly sure they had never fucked – that she would remember. Not someone B used to hang out with either. So, who...?

"I'll give you a hint," the girl – Tara – actually chuckled out loud and then her demeanour changed subtly. She hung her head slightly, allowing her long, dirty-blond hair to partly cover her face. "She, um, said he, uh... uh, w-w-..."

'W-w-what? You gonna get that sentence out some time tonight?' The recollection hit Faith like punch to the gut. "Oh, fuck," she gasped. "You're Red's girl!"

"No, I'm not with Willow anymore," Tara replied sadly but honestly after having flicked her hair back. She was looking Faith directly in the eyes again as she announced this.

"Sorry, didn't know," Faith mumbled as an apology. 'Great job, Faith. The first friendly person in who knows how fucking long and you've already pissed her off.'

"You couldn't have known, Faith," Tara said in a soft, quiet voice. "No need to be sorry."

"No, but I remember being a real bitch to you that night," Faith continued in a mutter. "I'm sorry for that."

"I forgive you."

"Huh?" Faith practically gaped. "Just like that?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" Tara asked in honest surprise.

Faith was a very guarded person by nature; letting anyone in through her defences was rare and had become much rarer in recent years. The last person she had tentatively done that for was Buffy, but then Gwendolyn Post and Allan Finch happened.

"Sorry, it's a bit early for a heart-to-heart for me, Blondie," she said perhaps more roughly than she had meant. That had the effect of wiping the light off the other's girl face, and immediately made Faith feel like shit again.

"Perhaps this was a mistake," Tara spoke quietly on the phone and started to return it back to the cradle.

"Hey, wait!" Faith called back urgently and raised her hand to touch the glass. Immediately a warning light was lit next to the phone cradle. "Please?" she mouthed pleadingly as she withdrew her hand.

Faith's heart was beating fast and very painfully as Tara just sat completely still with the phone half-way to the cradle for several long seconds. Then it was like her stoic mask just crumbled and she was smiling again, bringing the receiver back to her ear.

"Yes, Faith?" Tara asked in very much mock curiosity.

"Oh, you sly motherf...," Faith groaned but inside she was feeling like she had been given a very precious but tentative second chance. She made a mental adjustment not to underestimate Tara for all her kind demeanour.

"Ok, now that I hopefully have your undivided attention again, I guess an explanation is needed," Tara said with a hint of steel in her voice.

"You have it, Blondie," Faith nodded and then looked at the clock on the wall. "For the remaining 15 minutes."

"Very well, Faith," Tara nodded in satisfaction. "I'll try to be brief. To begin with, and with what I know about... your kind, you must know that Buffy is dead."

Faith didn't know how closely the conversations were monitored, but she was instantly glad Tara had refrained from mentioning Slayers and anything else related to the supernatural.

"Yeah, I know," she answered tightly.

"Regrets?" Tara asked, and Faith could feel there was no malice in the simple question.

"You have no idea," Faith sighed. "But hey, the fuckers in London must have already sent you a new girl, right?"

"No."

"No?" Faith was once again struck dumb by the turn of events.

"No," Tara shook her head. "What you might have overlooked is that Buffy no longer had anything to pass on. Can you guess why?"

"It's me, right?" Faith asked in a hollow tone as the truth hit her like a sledgehammer. "It was Buffy, then Kendra and now me."

"Yes, the lineage goes through you now," Tara confirmed evenly.

For a while Faith was so angry she almost crushed the phone in her hand to bits. The fucking Council had known this all along and still didn't even attempt to contact her. She might have told them to get stuffed but that wasn't the point. The point was that they didn't fucking care!

"Ok," she nodded after a short while and after a few calming breaths – something her therapist had taught her. "Now your being here is starting to make some small sense." Then a thought that had been nagging her for a while popped to the foreground. "Just out of curiosity, how the ever-loving fuck did you manage to get in here? I thought only my lawyer and Angel were cleared."

"Well...," Tara drawled and tried to hold a straight face. "As it so happens, I have a document stating that I'm indeed one of your lawyers."

"Say what?" Faith blurted out. "I thought you were... Sunnydale."

"I am," Tara replied, and Faith could tell that it was indeed the plain truth. "But me and... Willow share the same occupation and our skills sometimes come in handy."

Faith was easily able to note the hesitancy in Tara's voice as she spoke the redhead's name. So, the two were both witches, had been together, but not anymore. Also, something more than just a normal break-up must have happened between the two. That much was evident from just the few comments on Willow she had made.

"Gotcha," Faith nodded in understanding. "So, hey, I think I'm gonna save us both some precious time and go directly for the $1M question. What do you want from me?"

"You're needed back, Faith," Tara told her in all seriousness.

"Shit, Blondie," Faith laughed, her first real one in ages. "I hate to wet the paper for you, but I'm kinda unavailable right now. But if you'll be kind enough to check back in 12 or so when my parole comes up."

"Faith..."

"You need someone like me there, I dig that," Faith overrode Tara. "But you don't really want me. I'm just the second-string in case they haven't kept you in the loop."

"I don't agree with you," Tara told her firmly. "But there's someone who does need you."

"Oh, really?" Faith chuckled and leaned back in her chair. "And who might that be? Giles? He couldn't give a flying fuck about me back then. It was all about his golden girl. X-man? Red? No way in hell."

"Dawn."

"D...?" Faith gaped, initially having no idea what Tara meant or who she might be talking about. Then memories, like half-forgotten dreams, started coming back to her.

Dawn, the brat. How could she have forgotten about Buffy's little sister and not given her even a single thought throughout her incarceration? The Squirt who had practically hero-worshipped her and never really believed that she had "turned evil".

"Blondie, I...," Faith stammered as two separate realities briefly clashed in her mind.

"Faith, breathe," Tara told her urgently. "I know what you're going through right now. Just relax and let it happen."

"Step away from the glass," she instructed Tara quietly but firmly once she started feeling steadier again. With determination she put away the phone and stood up.