Faith screamed, lashing out with a backhanded strike. Her hand struck something hard with a splintering crash. With a gasp she lunged upwards, struggling for air. Long moments passed before she recognized her surroundings; the seedy motel room th had been her home for months. Early morning light filtered in through the narrow window, dimly illuminating the clutter surrounding her. She looked down at her stinging hand, then at the headboard of the bed. The cheap particleboard now sported a la e, fist-shaped hole. With a muttered curse she stepped out onto the floor, throwing off the shredded bedcovers.

As she walked to the bathroom she realized that she had one hand clutched tightly to her belly, which was still uneasy with remembered pain. She paused, removing the hand slowly, almost fearfully. She felt faint surprise when she found her middle tact, the skin smooth and unmarked. She rubbed her eyes irritably. What had she been dreaming? There had been something about a fight, and... falling? Had she been hurt? She gave her belly a light slap, and shook her head in dismissal. She could n er remember her dreams. The real world was bad enough, without having to deal with crap like that while you were sleeping.

She flipped on the light switch, watching with disgust as half a dozen cockroaches fled under the sink cabinet. She hugged herself, shuddering. She hated this, hated this place and all the others like it that had been her home for as long as she c ld remember. Dirty, messy, cheap places. Even her mom’s apartment in Boston, the first place she could recall, had been like this.

“I’m sick of being poor.” She said, her voice bitter.

Stepping carefully, she leaned into the shower and started the water. Stripping off her tee shirt, she wadded it up and sat it on the sink. Naked, she looked into the mirror, raising her arm to look at the bullet wound she had taken Saturday nigh Or early Sunday, she corrected herself. Whatever. The bullet had torn a groove along her side, nearly eight inches long, and about an inch deep at the center. The Mayor’s surgeon friend had stitched it up, and it was healing with typical Slayer spe . She would have to take out the stitches herself later today, she thought. Within a few days, the scar would have faded to invisibility, just like all the others.

Leaning forward, she looked into her reflection. The eyes staring back at her were large and dark, a brown so deep as to look black. They were good eyes, she thought, eyes that gave away nothing of the thoughts behind them. She nodded to her imag

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

She stepped into the shower.

A short time later she was dressing. Today was going to be a pain, she knew. What with Wesley and Giles planning to ‘shrink’ her, along with whatever stupid track and field tests they had planned, it was doubtful that she would have much time to ta with Buffy. The other girl had avoided her yesterday after school, going off with Willow and Xander. She toweled off her hair and found her brush, jerking it through the soft strands with angry motions.

She dressed simply, in comfortable sweatpants and a tanktop, with a warm-up jacket over it. She even went lighter with her usual make-up and lipstick. She doubted Wesley’s ability to make her sweat, no matter what kind of “tests” he came up with. t the same time, it might be better not to show a lot of Attitude, not while she was supposed to be all sorrowful over what she had done.

When she was finished, she spent a minute dismantling the barricade in front of the door. She grunted as she shifted the heavy dresser back into its usual spot. With the door still broken, she was taking no chances on uninvited guests.

“Very good Faith. I believe we are finished with this portion of the testing.” Wesley straightened the stack of booklets and ink-blot flashcards on the table before him, aligning them precisely. Faith gave a sigh of relief from where she sat opposite him.

“Whoof! Finally.”

She stood and stretched, her arms extended upwards, her head back. Wesley stared for a moment, caught off-guard by her graceful movements, and the well-formed body they displayed.

Faith looked at him and smiled.

“I think my butt fell asleep, sitting there.”

She edged past him, then out the door of the study cubicle they had been using. Giles had been leaning against the wall outside, listening to them, for some time. Faith smiled up at him as she stepped out. She had known he was there, of course. side the quiet Library, hearing him standing there had been easy. He nodded to her as Wesley set his files inside his briefcase and then joined them.

Wesley pushed his glasses up and smiled at Giles.

“I will have to evaluate these responses in detail, of course, but I must say, I am most satisfied with Faith’s performance.”

She looked down, smiling to herself as she gave an embarrassed shrug. Giles watched her carefully.

“Buffy will be here shortly to take her evaluation,” Wesley continued. “After we are finished, you and I will begin the physical portion. For now, you are free to rest and prepare.”

Faith sketched a salute to the pair, then trotted down the stairs and out of the Library. Once he was certain she was gone, Giles turned to the younger man.

“’Faith’s performance’ is right.”

Wesley looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” He turned to pick up the folder holding the results of Faith’s psychological testing. “I’ll grant you, some of her responses seem to hint at a... violent mindset, but that’s part of what being a Slayer is.” He shuffled throug the sheets of paper. “Overall, I was most impressed at her ability to discern between right and wrong, her logical ability is at least average, her sense of ethics and human behavior is above normal,” He shrugged. “And her admitting that she was wron to reject my--” He glanced at Giles. “Our authority, shows that she is willing to learn from her mistakes.”

Giles leaned against the doorframe, his expression troubled.

“A rather abrupt turnaround, wouldn’t you say?” He shook his head. “No. She was telling you what you wanted to hear, to some extent at least.” He shrugged. “Neither you nor I are truly qualified to administer or analyze these tests. We shall h e to send them to the Council, they have several trained psychologists. In fact, it would be better if one of them could come and examine her personally.”

Wesley frowned.

“It is not likely that they will approve of that. The expense, alone would be considerable, not to mention that one of the Council Members would have to interrupt his studies...”

Giles turned a severe look on him.

“The Council could afford to Buy an aircraft, if they wanted. I’ll grant you, getting one of them off his lazy ass and over here could prove difficult,” Wesley, affronted, tried to interrupt, but Giles went on.

“But just what do they think the Watcher’s Council is supposed to do, if not concern themselves with the welfare of the Slayer?” He turned away, leaving Wesley to trot after him. Giles reached his office, and began preparing a pot of tea. Wesley stood watching, until finally he asked.

“Well then. If Faith is misleading us about her reform, then why has she remained in Sunnydale?”

Giles shrugged.

“Likely because Buffy is here.” He looked thoughtful. “Despite all that’s happened, a bond remains between them. Faith seems reluctant to strain it further. That may be why she is suddenly so eager to please.” He shrugged. “And that may well b the key to our helping her. Buffy can exert a powerful influence on her. Perhaps, given that sort of support, along with counceling from a professional, she will make more than just this surface change that she is showing us.” He gave Wesley a stern ok. “You must be careful not to give her any hint that you suspect she is trying to mislead us. She will not tolerate anything that hints of distrust or betrayal from either of us. And if she leaves, we’ll have the devil’s own time trying to find her gain.”

Faith wandered the halls. Third period wasn’t quite over, so there were few people out and about. She peeked into a couple of classrooms, watching the other kids pretending to be interested in what the teacher was saying. Much like her with Giles nd Wesley. She turned away. All of this intrigue stuff was hard, and not at all her style. She wanted to move, to fight, to kick some serious ass... And all she could do for now was play along with the Watchers, old uncle and young uncle, while they ade her put the little blocks in the little holes, and entertained themselves by shining their little flashlights in her ears to see if anyone was at home in there.

It was frustrating as hell.

At least the scooby gang were keeping their distance. She had seen Xander start to come into the Library early that morning, only to abruptly reverse course when he saw her sitting on the table. She had grinned at that, making Wesley ask her what e found so amusing. She sighed, turning a corner at random and walking down the hall. And Buffy. Buffy had hardly said a word to her since yesterday morning. Faith wondered if she had done the right thing, telling the other Slayer her reasons for st ing, the feelings she held for her. The older Slayer was still mooning over Angel, and tearing herself up inside because she couldn’t have him. Faith knew that couldn’t go on forever. Mostly it just came down to waiting for Angel to lose it and let B fy screw his soul out of him, again. Then, after Buffy killed him, again, Faith figured she might have a shot at easing her sister slayer’s pain. She smiled to herself; a soft, bittersweet smile. Sister Slayers. That was what it came down to. In al the world, they were the only ones who knew what it was all about. Buffy and Faith: the chosen two. Compared to that, to everything that they shared, what else mattered?

“You!”

Startled, Faith looked up from her thoughts. Snyder, that funny little man who got his jollies by terrorizing the entire student body, was marching down the hall toward her.

“I don’t recognize you, young lady. Maybe you’d like to explain--”

Faith didn’t wait to hear the rest. She jogged back a few yards, then ducked into an empty classroom. Glancing around, she crouched, then Leapt upwards, to land perched atop the doorway. Her sneakers gripped the ledge of the doorframe, tho h it was barely an inch wide. She pressed her hands against the ceiling to hold herself in place, and looked down. An instant later Snyder charged into the room. He halted directly below her, glaring around in confusion. Other than several rows of d ks, and the larger one up front for the teacher, the room was empty. He nodded to himself.

“I’m not sure who you are, Missy,” He moved towards the desk, circling to one side. “But we do not trespass on school grounds. Your drug deals will have to wait till AFTER school hours.”

Behind him, Faith dropped to the floor, landing in a crouch, silent as a falling leaf. She straightened, then took a step back, outside the door. She tilted her head to one side, then smiled mischieviously. Snyder jumped forward to look behind th big desk, but found no one there. Rubbing his bald scalp with one hand, he turned back towards the door, and froze. Faith waved at him--then ducked out of view. With an angry snarl, the diminutive man charged at the doorway. Faith giggled like a lit e girl as she sprinted down the hall, the air roaring past her ears with the speed of her passage. Ducking around the next corner, she slid to a stop, listening. She heard his footsteps in the hall, heard his hesitation as he wondered where she could ve gone in the bare second it had taken him to reach the hallway, which stretched off in either direction.

Putting her hands in her jacket pockets, she walked casually back into view. He stopped, staring at her. They were nearly forty yards apart, but she could see his face turning red. He raised his hand to point at her, his finger trembling with rage

“You.”

Faith raised her eyebrows and touched a finger to her chest, questioningly. He nodded grimly, advancing towards her.

“Remain right where you are.” He picked up speed, striding purposefully forward. She put her hand back in her pocket and waited. He reached her and slowed, putting out a hand to grab her by the arm. Except-- she had moved back a pace, beyond his each. He stepped forward again, but she slid smoothly back, maintaining the distance between them, just out of reach. He glared at her, and she looked back, politely curious.

He lunged forward, but she was skipping backwards even as he moved. He broke into a run, or at least the best run a gnome-like bureaucrat in his early fifties could manage. Faith, hands in her pockets and running backwards, easily stayed ahead of m. With a glance behind her, she took a turn down the next hallway, past a startled teacher, and through a door. She entered the school kitchen, where half a dozen workers were busy getting lunch ready. Faith dodged around a set of tables filled with rays and bowls. Snyder was breathing heavily as he stumbled into the room after her. He came to a halt and stared with disbelief at Faith, who was scarfing down french fries from the large bin in front of her.

“Y-you’re only... Making things harder for... Yourself.” Snyder managed between pants. Faith looked back at him, an expression of concern on her face.

“Are you all right? You don’t look so good.” She stuffed more fries into her mouth, then washed them down with a drink from an open Pepsi sitting on the table. “Must be this school food, saturated fats are bad for you--” She broke off as he star d around the table towards her.

“Stop her!” He shouted to the lunchroom people. They looked at him blankly, pausing with their ladles and pans in hand. Faith smiled as she slipped between them.

“No, no, don’t mind me, just leaving thanks,” One large woman tried to get hold of her in a bear hug. Faith brought her arms up inside of the woman’s, forcing them out and away. Grabbing the woman by her meaty forearms, Faith pivoted her around a shoved, propelling her backwards towards Snyder. The Principal gasped and stumbled to one side, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the lunch lady as she sprawled on the floor. Faith waved.

“It tastes great, keep up the good work guys!”

She ducked out into the lunchroom, which was empty except for a scattering of students hanging out during their free period. She moved easily through the scattered groupings of tables and chairs, slowing for a moment as a VERY cute guy with blond h r and wearing a football jersey met her eyes. She ran a hand through her hair to straighten it, smiling at him. He smiled back, then looked past her, his eyes widening. She scowled, turning to glare at Snyder. He had caught his second wind, charging t her with a murderous look in his eyes. Faith jogged towards the doors, slowing for just a moment to run a caressing hand along the jock’s shoulders. Back in the halls, she paused. At some point she would have to actually lose him, or things could g complicated. She loped towards a set of stairs, listening to the doors behind her slam open as he careened into them. Turning, she watched him nearly fall before catching his balance and stumbling towards her.

“Stop! Stop this... Instant!” He managed, in a strangled shout. Faith folded her arms and looked at him curiously.

“Or what? You’ll yell ‘Stop’ again?”

He didn’t answer, and she shrugged. Hopping backwards up the stairs three at a time, she stayed just ahead of him as he labored upwards after her. He was wheezing now, his face mottled red and covered in sweat. As she rounded the last set of stai leading up to the third floor, Faith heard the sound of running feet approaching. Someone had finally heard the commotion, and was on their way to help the SnideMan. Faith smiled at him as he labored upwards, still several steps below her.

“I guess recess is over. Thanks for playing with me.”

She extended her arms to either side, adding a graceful turn of her wrists. He paused, uncertain of what she intended, but with a vicious smile as he heard the questioning shouts from the landing above her. She hopped one step down towards him, be her knees, and Leapt. Her arms outstretched for balance, she turned a somersault above him, to land on the landing below. He stared down at her, then turned to shout out.

“Here! She’s down here!”

Faith trotted down the stairs, only to halt halfway to the second floor landing. A pair of school security guards were rushing up the stairs from below. As they turned the corner to come up the steps towards her, she hopped over the railing. With er arms and legs tucked close to her body, she dropped through the narrow central well between the stair railings. Twenty-five feet below, she hit bottom, her knees flexing to absorb the impact. From above, there was a second of silence, then yells. e didn’t wait for them, sprinting awkwardly for the nearest exit, doing a little hop every third step, wiggling her stinging feet.

“Ow, dammit, ouch,” She pushed through the doors and out into the spring air.

Next time, land in a roll. Was her thought as she rounded a corner. The bell rang, signaling the end of third period, and moments later she was able to lose herself among the crowd of students exiting the building. She gave a sigh. That h been the most fun she’d had all week. Which was a sad thing, when you thought about it.

Faith stared at him, annoyance plain on her face.

“You forgot to start your stupid watch?”

Wesley shrugged, unimpressed.

“Well, yes. And so, you will run the course again. Get ready.”

Faith growled deep in her throat.

What I’m ready to do is feed you that goddammed stopwatch, you moron. Was her thought, carefully NOT said aloud. Bad enough that he wanted her to run the obstacle course three times straight, without rest. He claimed he wanted to average h times, to get an accurate measure of her performance. But if that were true, why not let her rest between runs? Not that this was enough to get her really tired, but still....

Wesley blew the whistle, and Faith sprinted forward. She was running a course used by the Sunnydale High ROTC program, which no longer existed. They had been cut several years earlier, but their obstacle course was still out behind the school, in overgrown area just beyond the football field. The watchers had trimmed back the weeds and made sure none of the structures would fall over while the Slayers were climbing on them. Faith leapt upwards and caught the top of the first wall, ignoring th climbing rope that normal people would have used. Dropping off the other side, she hopped up and ran along the log that crossed a wide trench filled with weeds and dirty water. They had nailed a two-by-four plank to the top of that log, edge up, which ave her a surface only an inch and a half wide to run along. She shook her head. That was too easy. For people who supposedly knew everything there was to know about Slayers, Giles and Wesley spent a lot of time underestimating what she and Buffy cou do. She ran down the narrow board like it was a sidewalk, then took three long steps and Jumped. There was a rope you were supposed to use to swing across another muddy ditch. Faith ignored that--it was only twenty feet across, twenty-five to . She landed on the far side with room to spare, then swung up onto the overhead bars. Going hand over hand, her feet dangling, she moved forward smoothly.

Wesley trotted along off to the side, watching her. He had to move quickly to keep up with her, even with her dealing with the various obstacles and himself on flat ground. Despite himself he was a bit awed. It was one thing to know that this gir was one of the two most gifted people, physically speaking, on the face of the earth, it was another to see it demonstrated so plainly. Of course he must not let on that her performance was impressive; he must make her strive to be better, to meet the andards he set for her. Her willfulness must be curbed, and one way to do that was to establish that he was the wiser of the two. He was the teacher, and she the student. He had not liked her smugness after she completed the third run-through of the urse in what she knew was her best time yet, so he had reset the stopwatch and then claimed he had never started it. He smiled to himself. She would learn the proper decorum, and in time would become an excellent Slayer. Travers would have no grounds or complaint concerning Wesley Windham-Price, or Faith, when next he came to Sunnydale. He watched her reach the wooden tower and begin climbing the dangling rope. Thirty feet straight up, and she was ascending hand over hand, as smoothly and quickly an elevator.

Astounding.

Faith took a drink from the water fountain, then wandered along the back of the main building. Wesley had made her run the course twice more, picking things at random to complain about. She ran too slow, she ran too fast, she jumped too soon, she inked when she landed. She had really thought about picking him up and seeing how far she could throw him. He had escaped that fate by telling her that she had ten minutes to rest while he got the equipment for the next part of her testing. She wonde d how Buffy had done on her ink-blot testing while Faith had been running Snyder around the school earlier. Leaning back against a wall, she stared out at the students lounging on the grass, enjoying their lunch or free period out in the open air.

Did Buffy lie to Giles about her feelings, she wondered. Did she hide it all from him? The rush of feeling your body running in overdrive, the exhilaration of the fighting, the satisfaction of killing something that had just tried to kill you. Or d he know? Did he allow that in Buffy, his golden girl, and not in Faith. She hunched her shoulders. Faith, the runner up, just the extra Slayer, in line to get offed anytime now, like that Kendra chick that nobody talked much about.

“...Faith? So very shallow...”

She looked up, confused. There was no one near her, but she had heard... Her ears rang for a moment, and she looked around. There, across the yard, Buffy sat next to Willow, talking. Willow was doing one of her magic tricks, floating a pencil in e air in front of her face. Faith sneered. Willow was sure feeling cocky, doing that kind of stuff out in public just weeks after nearly getting burned at the stake. Of course, everyone at Sunnydale High knew that she and Buffy were best friends, and o one in their right mind would risk getting Buffy pissed off by messing with Willow.

She watched them. They hadn’t seen her, and they were only thirty or forty yards away... She cocked her head to the side and Listened. There were other people talking, and it was hard to tune them out, but--”

“...Definately ace her on the psych test. Just don’t mark the box that says ‘I sometimes like to kill people’.”

Cute. That was Willow, the bitch. No problem figuring out who she was talking about, either. Every single chance she got, she was making sure Buffy knew that only Willow was good enough to be around her, to be her bestest, onliest friend.

“I know Faith’s not gonna be on the cover of Sanity Faire, but ... she had it rough. Different circumstances, that could be me.”

Faith closed her eyes. Only Buffy could hurt her and give her a glimmer of hope, all in just a few words. Buffy understood. Just a little, but maybe--

“No way. Some people just don’t have that in them.”

Ha. You have no idea what’s inside her witch-girl. I do.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like talking about Faith.”

Wrong, B. She LOVES talking about me. Every single chance she gets, sounds like. Just never to my face. Isn’t that strange?

Faith had heard enough. She turned and walked away, looking down to watch her feet. A minute later, while she was trying not to think of anything much at all, Wesley pulled up beside her on a bike. She raised her eyebrows at him. He looked odd, tting there on the three-speed, though it would have been worse if he had been wearing his usual suit. The red knit sweater vest he sported today just made him look funny, not ridiculous.

He nodded to her.

“We’ll begin the endurance test now. Follow me.”

He pedaled off down the sidewalk, and she sighed, then jogged after him.

Shortly, they stood looking down at Sunnydale’s answer to the LA river. A drainage channel, maybe twenty feet wide and ten feet deep lay before them. The flat bottom was nearly dry now, like it was most of the year, the sloped concrete sides decor ed with the occasional bit of graphitti. The channel ran along the north side of town for over two miles, ending at the beach. Wesley gestured her down into it.

“You will run this course, to the ocean and back, five times.” He polished his electronic stopwatch on his vest. “I shall ride alongside to evaluate your form.”

Faith looked at him.

“I couldn’t use the track at school, or a road?”

Wesley shook his head firmly.

“Not possible. Our training must be covert.” He looked at her. “Secret.”

She gave him a hard look.

“I know what ‘covert’ means, brain trust.”

She slid down into the channel, then scuffed her shoe along the bottom. Concrete, but with patches of loose sand and gravel, along with other bits of scummy stuff. Not good footing for a run, and if she slipped and fell on her ass Wesley had bette not laugh. Not if he wanted to keep eating solid food. Wesley readied his stopwatch, watched her for a moment, then blew his whistle. Faith moved forward, taking a few seconds to build to speed since she was unsure of her traction. Behind her, Wesle rode his bike along the rim of the channel, over the wide concrete lip that bordered it to either side. He was keeping up with her easily enough for now, but she wondered how long that would last.

“Well, that was a blast.” Faith looked at Buffy, then Giles, as she led Wesley into the Library. He was still gasping for air, but he’d surprised her by not collapsing once he’d gotten off of the bicycle. Giles looked at him.

“How did it go?”

Wesley was unable to answer, so Faith shrugged.

“Princess Margaret here had a little trouble keeping up.”

Giles ignored her.

“How did it go?” He repeated.

Wesley struggled to compose himself.

“Faith... Uh, did quite well on the obstacle field.”

Faith leaned against the counter, looking at Buffy, who sat perched on the edge of the main table. Buffy looked back at her, her face devoid of expression. Faith felt her stomach clench. Sweet Willow must have really done a job on me. She thought. Unable to bear seeing the other Slayer looking at her like that, Faith glanced away.

Wesley was going on.

“...Still a little sloppy though.”

Faith turned to look at him, restraining the urge to backhand him through the doors. Not any more of your shit, Wes. I am not in the mood. Her thoughts were plain on her face, she knew, but it was hard to care, right then.

Giles, still ignoring Faith, nodded at Wesley.

“You feel up to taking Buffy out, or shall I?”

“No, no, no, no, I’m fine. Just, give me a minute...” He winced, leaning forward. “And some defibrillators, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Faith looked back at Buffy.

“You’re gonna love it B. It’s just like fun, only... Boring.”

Giles finally looked at her, disapproval plain on his face.

“Faith. This evaluation is a necessary part of the Council’s--”

She broke in.

“I know.” She looked away, leaning forward on the counter and hunching her shoulders. “I’m on board here, just shooting my mouth off.”

Buffy hopped forward off of the table.

“I’d better change.”

Faith turned to watch her, and when she walked past, reached out to touch her on the shoulder.

“Good luck.” She said.

Buffy said nothing, not meeting her eyes as she walked out, Wesley trailing after her. Faith felt ill. Not one word, not a single word had Buffy said to her. And the look in her eyes... Giles turned and walked back into his office without speaking to her either. She stood there, alone.

These are the people talking about ‘helping’ me? She wondered. Gee, you can really feel the love here, can’t you?

The soft clatter of a keyboard reminded her that she was not completely alone in the room after all. Her good friend Willow was sitting at a computer over in the Librarian’s work area. Since she looked so busy, Faith figured that she would spend so time annoying her. Hopping up to sit on the counter, she looked over the other girl’s shoulder.

“What’cha doin?”

Willow gave her a sideways glance, and sighed with irritation. Faith held back a grin.

“I’m trying to access the Mayor’s personal files.”

Suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore.

“Can you do that?”

Willow kept her eyes on the screen.

“Well, he’s got some tricky barriers set up.”

Faith waited, but that was all she got.

“Can you get past ‘em?” She pressed.

Willow tapped a few keys and stared at the jumble of numbers that resulted.

“Eventually I’ll get through.”

Faith looked at the screen, then down at the girl. Without another word she hopped down and strode out of the Library.

When Faith called the Mayor’s office, she got his secretary. Karen asked where she was, then told her to wait there. Minutes later, the black limousine pulled up at the corner. Faith opened the door and slid into the back. Mayor Wilkens smiled at er.

“Hello there. Tough day?”

She sighed, leaning back in the seat. The limo pulled back into traffic, accelerating smoothly.

“You could say that. How are things with you? Got any baby sacrifices lined up for tonight? Anything I should get ready for?” Her sarcastic tone rolled off of him. He flipped open a small cooler built into the center console of the passenger ar .

“Now, now, none of that. You’re cranky, and I know just how to fix you up.” He pulled a bottle of Gatorade out, and used a clean cloth to wipe away the condensation. “You’ve been exercising, and you need to bring your blood sugar and electrolytes ack up.” She accepted the bottle from him, looking at it, then back to him. He nodded. “Go on. You’ll feel better.” With a shrug she opened it and took a sip. He smiled. “Now, I have your allowance for this week right here.” He took an envelope om his coat pocket and handed it to her. She held her drink between her legs and opened it. Inside were a couple of dozen twenty-dollar bills. She smiled and tucked it inside her pocket. She raised the drink in a toast.

“Thanks.”

He nodded.

“You’re very welcome. Now,” He clasped his hands and looked at her. “How are things going? Everyone still convinced that you’re back to stay?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, basically. I’m jumping through their hoops, which is making them happy. Nobody’s talking to me, much. But I guess that’s just them acting normal, where I’m concerned.” She looked at the plastic bottle in her hands, turning it around and a und. Wilkens sighed.

“Young lady, I’ll not have you spending all your time moping.”

She looked up at him, wondering what he was talking about. He had his serious expression on, and she still wasn’t sure if he was bullshitting her when he used it.

“Sorry. I’m just don’t know how much I’ll be able to find out for you, is all.” She looked back out the window. He sighed.

“You’re too negative. It’s to be expected, I suppose, with all that’s happened. And a negative environment leads to negative thoughts.” She looked at him, and he grinned. “Well, we can take care of that part right now.” The limo pulled into a s ll parking lot, adjacent to a five story apartment building. He opened his door and got out, holding it as she slid across the seat and bounded out onto the pavement. She looked around, uncertain of where this was leading. He gestured for her to prec e him into the building. Inside, there was a pair of elevators. Humming to himself, he pushed the up button. Ignoring her questioning look, he stood, hands in his pockets. She shrugged and leaned against the wall, waiting. The elevator arrived, and fter a brief ride up to the top floor, the doors opened. Faith looked around as the Mayor pulled out a set of keys and moved to a door. There were only two other doors in the small hallway. One for another apartment, and one leading to a set of stair

Faith bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

“Um. One thing you should know.”

He looked over at her, then went back to searching through his keys.

“Darn it. I know that little devil’s on here somewhere... Go on.”

Faith fidgeted.

“Well, Willow, the smart girl I told you about? Buffy’s friend?”

He nodded.

“Turns out she’s some kind of super-hacker. She basically has the run of any computer in town.”

The lock clicked and he straightened.

“Hey! That’s the one.”

Pushing the door open, he waved her inside. She walked past him, into a huge, open, beautiful room. There was furniture, and wide, bright windows, and a massive television built into a wall of electronics. Her eyes wide, she stared. There was eve a big gift basket on a table, wrapped in a big red ribbon. He stood, hands in his pockets, watching her.

“This is for you. To make you feel better about yourself.”

She stood, stunned, but managed to continue.

“And... she’s trying to break into your computer file stuff right now....”

He paused, looking thoughtful.

“That’s... Very interesting.”

She nodded, coming out of her shock to walk around the room, her eyes aglow.

“Yeah, I thought so too. Are you serious about this place?” She couldn’t contain her excitement. It was all bright, and clean, and so amazingly neat....

He nodded.

“Of course I am. No Slayer of mine is going to live in a fleabag hotel. That place has a very unsavory reputation. There are immoral liaisons going on there.” He sounded disapproving, strangely prim and proper for a man who regularly sacrificed p ple to demons.

She walked around, running her hands over the furniture, touching the lamps, the spotless white walls.

“Yeah, plus all the screwing. This place is the kick!” There was a big punching bag, and exercise mats rolled up to one side, and....

“We’ll keep your old place in case you need to see your friends there, but from now on Oh, hey hey hey, shoes, shoes!”

She had jumped onto the bed, unable to contain herself any longer. She bounced up and down a few times, then bounded off and swept up to him. Taking his jacket lapels in her hands she smiled up at him.

“Thanks sugar daddy.”

Wilkens looked at her sternly.

“Now, Faith. I don’t find that sort of thing amusing. I’m a family man.”

She looked up at him, amazed. It had been in the back of her mind that he would want more of her, that part of working for him would mean working ‘under’ him. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if he had asked. Now, it looked like she didn’t ave to worry. She felt something inside her loosen, a piece of her defenses fall away. It was hard, sometimes, keeping on guard all the time. People could hurt you so badly if you let them get inside you, and she had been hurt so often already, that e had just stopped taking the chance. Buffy was the only one she had let in for so long, and now the other Slayer was drawing blood, ripping up Faith’s vulnerable heart with her silences and her indifferent stares. She kicked herself mentally for thin ng that someone else, someone like the Mayor, could be any different. But it was so hard, not to trust anyone. And so far, he had kept his word to her. So far.... She smiled up at him and walked across the room. Behind her, he continued.

“Now, let’s kill your little friend.”

She whirled to look at him, and he raised a hand.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask you to do it. Not this early in the relationship.”

She settled slowly to sit on a cushioned piece of furniture that she couldn’t name. He was worried about her not wanting to kill Willow? Not a problem. But... Buffy. Buffy loved that little bitch. If Willow got killed, and Buffy found out that ith was involved, she might do anything. Any chance of them finding their connection again, of being together, would be finished. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if Buffy tracked her down and beat the living shit out of her. At the very least. Sh chewed her lip, wondering how that would go. The Mayor distracted her.

“Besides, I think a vampire attack would look less suspicious, anyway.”

Oh. Well, that would work. You couldn’t throw a dead cat in Sunnydale without hitting a vampire. They killed a lameness like Willow every night. That kind of thinking was why he was the boss, she supposed.

“In the meantime, lets take a look at the rest of the apartment, huh? If I’m not mistaken, some lucky girl has herself a Playstation.”

She wanted to hop up and down again. She settled for a wide smile.

“No way...”

He gave her that infectious grin that he had.

“Yes way.” He moved towards the entertainment center and she bounded to her feet to race him there.

This, she thought, is just getting better and better.