Faith walked along the sidewalk, dawn breaking around her. She carried her bag of traveling gear slung over one shoulder, and a can of Pepsi in her hand. Just a block ahead of her was the dingy motel room that had been her home since she arrived i Sunnydale.

She sighed. She had spent the night, and most of the previous day sleeping in an empty apartment. During her hitchhiking trek to Sunnydale from Boston she had discovered that it was easy to find empty living quarters to crash in. Apartment buildi s had signs showing vacancies. She only had to find out which one was empty, climb the fire escape, force the window, and barricade the door with anything handy. There was even a shower for in the morning.

She was cautious about returning to her room at the motel. Angel, at least, knew where it was, and Wesley probably did too. Buffy had promised that she would speak with the Watchers, but Faith was not about to sleep where they could find her. Not ow.

She paused at the intersection and looked across at the motel. It seemed quiet enough. Looking over her shoulder, she watched the sun clear the hills to the east. Angel, at least, was out of the picture now, so long as she avoided the sewers. Un ss, of course, he was already in her room, waiting.

She drained the last of her cola, then crushed the can. Staring at the building, she stood, thinking. Her hand rolled the can over and over, folding it down smaller and smaller. When she had a small ball of aluminum, she flicked it across the stre and into an open garbage can. With a sigh she crossed the street. The Mayor wanted her to go back to the Watchers, to keep track of what they knew and what they were doing. To do that, she had to pretend that she was going back to her old life.

As she came around the corner of the building, she stopped cold. The door to her room was standing open. Lowering her bag slowly to the ground, she tilted her head to the side and LISTENED. The noises from the street roared in her head, engines g wling, tires humming over pavement, doors slamming, merging into an incredible din. Close by, the sounds of televisions, running water and a roaring hairdryer from other motel rooms drummed in her ears. With a whispered curse she let her hearing fall ck to normal. Buffy, she knew, could filter out the random garbage to hear what she wanted, but that kind of thing had never seemed important enough to Faith to bother learning.

She eased forward, looking around alertly, wary of a trap. No one in view seemed to be paying any attention to her. She reached the door, noting where the frame was splintered inward. That had to have been Angel, when he had kicked it in the nigh before last, coming to Xander’s rescue. Leaning in to look past the door, she looked into the dim room.

Buffy sat on the bed, looking at her.

“Hi.”

Her voice was soft, with that child-like quality it often had, that could get inside you and melt your heart. Faith took another step inside and nodded back.

“Hey.”

Buffy looked uncomfortable.

“I came looking for you yesterday, but you weren’t here. I... was kind of thinking you changed your mind and left town.”

Faith watched her. After a moment she shrugged.

“I was worn out from everything that happened. I needed to crash, but I didn’t think I’d be safe sleeping here.” She jerked her head at the door. “Somebody broke in once already, you know.” She smiled faintly. “This must be a bad neighborhood o something, they have guys with baseball bats attacking people and everything.”

Buffy winced, but stood and looked her in the eyes.

“I’m sorry he did that--HE’S sorry he did that. But what you were doing to Xander, that was worse. He had to stop you.”

It was Faith’s turn to look uncomfortable.

“I know. I just got a little crazy there for awhile. Everything was running wild, with you and Giles jumping all over me, and that dead guy coming between the two of us. I... guess it got to me more than I thought it could. And when Xander showe up with his ‘cry on my shoulder, I’m your best friend’ line, I just lost it.” She looked back at Buffy.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt him. Really. I just wanted to scare him, you know? To make sure he’d shut up and leave me alone.”

Buffy reluctantly smiled.

“Oh, I think you scared him. I’ll be surprised if he lets himself get caught in the same room with you again anytime soon.”

Faith nodded to herself.

“Good.” She thought. “Slimy little bastard.”

Out loud she answered: “I’ll try to be nicer to him, but really; I just don’t like the guy. He rubs me the wrong way or something.”

Looking down at the bed she saw a stack of books.

“You going to school?”

Buffy leaned over and picked them up.

“Yep. I walk in sometimes when I have to be there early to talk to Giles.”

She looked up at Faith, her green eyes hopeful.

“Did you want to talk to him today? About... Things?”

Faith ran her fingers over the bedsheets, touching a bloodstain made by her face after Angel had smashed a baseball bat into it. Not that she remembered her face hitting the bed; she’d been out cold. She looked back at Buffy and nodded.

“Sure. Might as well go talk about those... Things.”

Buffy walked out of the room and into the morning sunlight. Faith followed, pulling the door shut as best she could. Somebody might well steal something out of there; she was surprised the television was still there. It didn’t matter. She doubte that she would be spending much more time there, one way or another.

Buffy waited while she retrieved her bag of traveling gear. The blonde Slayer gave her a questioning look when she looped the strap over her shoulder instead of putting it in the room.

Faith gestured at the broken door.

“This is pretty much all my stuff. I don’t want anyone taking off with it.”

Buffy nodded, and they started walking.

A couple of blocks passed by in silence, the Slayers walking side by side.

Faith snuck glances at the girl beside her. Buffy was so beautiful, her golden hair shining in the spring sunlight. She was wearing one of those short dresses she liked so much too, that showed off a lot of leg. Faith sighed. She knew that dress made her look like she was eight years old. Besides, a couple of pairs of pants, some tee shirts and a jacket were all she owned. It wasn’t like she had any money, or a mom to take her out shopping or anything.

She shook her head and gritted her teeth. No. It wasn’t Buffy’s fault. None of it was. It was the Watchers, making her believe that she was their slave or something. That she had to follow the “Rules” for being a Slayer. What unbelievable bull it that was. Gwendolyn Post had showed her one thing: The Watchers were no better than everyone else. They screwed up, bigtime, and then pretended that it never happened. Faith and Buffy, fighting each other because the Council never got around to t ling anybody that the sicko bitch was dirty, and they just said ‘we sent a memo’”. Unbelievable.

Faith sighed. All the times the Watcher’s had screwed Buffy over, and she just kept coming back for more. There had to be a way to make her see the truth. Of course, sooner or later, the Council would push their Number One Slayer too far, and she ould tell them where to stick it. Faith had seen more of Buffy than the other girl would admit. Buffy was all sweetness and “duty” until you put your foot over the line, and then you saw the steel inside of her. Faith just had to make sure that she w around when Buffy lost her patience with the idiots. Once that happened, they could start making their own rules.

She switched the strap of her bag to her other shoulder, and Buffy looked over at her.

“You won’t have to run away, you know.”

She looked at the bag, then up at Faith.

“I told Giles about the fight at the docks and everything. He said that you saving me, and coming back voluntarily, that was a good sign. He’s sure he can get the Council to forget about that whole trial thing.”

Faith stared straight ahead.

Buffy reached out and put her hand on the other girls arm.

“Faith, you have to talk to him, REALLY talk to him. He only wants to help you.”

Faith stopped, and looked down at Buffy’s hand. Slowly, she took it between both of her own.

“Yeah. Well, I have to talk to you about something, B.”

She took a deep breath, scared at the thought of letting so much of herself show, of letting someone else see so far past her defenses. She plowed on.

“I don’t care what Giles thinks about me. Or the Council, or your friends.” She looked into the other girl’s green eyes. “I’m not staying because of them. I’m staying for you.” She saw that Buffy was uncomfortable with this, so she hurried on b ore she lost her courage.

“If Giles and that Wesley jerk try to chain me up again, I’m outta here. I’m not going to let them take me while I’m still breathing, and you know they can’t stop me, not if I see them coming.” She squeezed the other girl’s hand. “You’re the only ne in this town who could take me, and we both know it. So the only way they’re gonna lock me away is if you help them.” Buffy started to speak, but Faith went on. “No, I’m not asking you if you will or won’t. But I’m telling you why I’m taking the ance that you might.” Faith closed her eyes and lowered her head, her hair spilling forward over her shoulders to hide her face. “I could have left already, and you would never find me. I thought about it, more than once. But I figured something out

Buffy, watching her, felt an unbearable urge to say something, anything. But she had no idea what it should be.

Faith continued, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“There’s nobody else. Did you know that?” She looked up to meet Buffy’s concerned face. “Outside of this town, no one, not one person on the entire planet, knows that I exist. And the ones here that do know, well. If I died tomorrow, all of the every one, would be glad.” She raised Buffy’s hand to her lips and kissed it gently. “Except you.” Faith did not cry, ever. But her eyes were suspiciously bright now. “Do you know how that feels? Could you? You have a mom, and friends that damn ar worship you.” She gave a little laugh. “You even have a substitute dad to fill in for your real one.” She squeezed the hand she held, hard, and only another Slayer could have withstood it. “So I have one person, and she cares about me. Not the s e way I care about her, but I can wait, and hope.”

She released Buffy’s hand.

“I can’t run away from that, not unless you make me. I’m willing to play it your way, even though we both know how I really feel.”

Buffy nodded, her eyes downcast.

Faith shrugged.

“So there you go. Unless something happens to change things, I’m going to stay. Now lets go see the Librarian, and see if we can cut some kind of deal.”

They walked on, moving through the scattered residents that were emerging from their homes and businesses into the safety of day.

Faith fell into her own thoughts again. She was playing a part, one that she and the Mayor had worked out the previous morning. She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. That speech had been harder than she had thought it would be. Not bec se it was a lie, but because so much of it was the truth. She had just lied to Buffy, true, but only about one thing: Buffy wasn’t the only person who knew about her, who cared about what happened to her. Not anymore. Now there were two. And as lon as Buffy didn’t get hurt, she didn’t much care what she had to do while working for the other one.

The two Slayers walked into the Library. It was seven am, but Giles was already in his office, sipping from a cup of tea. Sensing their presence in the doorway, he turned. Buffy and Faith stood, watching his reaction, waiting. Slowly he put down is cup, then stood. He reached out and put his hand on Faith’s shoulder, smiling gently.

“Faith. I’m glad to see you.” His voice was gentle, reassuring. She slid out from under his hand with a smooth motion, glancing behind her as she did so. He waited, watching her carefully. Finally she nodded.

“Yeah, nice to be here. Where’s your sidekick? You know, the gutless wonder?” Buffy made an exasperated sound, but Giles’s gaze was steady.

“Wesley will be here soon. In the meantime I thought we might talk. Privately?” He glanced at Buffy. She paused, looking suddenly doubtful.

“Um, actually Giles, I needed to study some math... equations and stuff. Right over here.”

She edged towards the main table, but he gave her a stern look and tilted his head towards the Library doors. Buffy looked at Faith imploringly. The raven-haired girl narrowed her eyes in that wicked look she had, but nodded agreeably.

“Don’t worry B, I won’t hurt him. Promise.”

Clearly unhappy, Buffy looked at Giles.

“Okay then. I’ll see you at third period.” She gave Faith another look, and got a reassuring nod in return. She walked out into the hall, casting a glance or two behind her as she went.

Faith and Giles looked at each other. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Alright then, young lady: Let’s talk.”

Faith sat cross-legged in the center of the table, looking at Giles as he paced slowly, his head lowered in thought.

“I’m sorry I lied to you about killing that guy. I just... I don’t know. I knew Buffy was going to tell you sooner or later, and I didn’t want to get locked up. Or de-Slayered, or whatever you guys do to us.”

He paused in his pacing, considering.

“De-Slayered? That would be a neat trick.” He looked up at her and shook his head. “No, Faith, no one can do that to you. Indeed,” He smiled slightly. “If such a thing were possible, the Council might well have ‘De-Slayered’ Buffy, long since. They don’t take well to willful behavior.” He sighed. “I myself am ample proof of that.”

He gestured dismissively.

“And it’s not the lie itself that troubles me. It’s your desire to avoid taking responsibility for your actions, and their consequences. You have to know that what you did was wrong, yet you tried to hide it.” He put his hands on the edge of the ble and looked at her, his expression severe.

“Responsibility is the one thing that no Slayer can turn her back on, Faith. It is the cornerstone of what being a Slayer entails. Without that ability, without that dedication to your duty, your destiny as the protector of mankind, all of your po rs become meaningless.”

She looked away, but nodded.

He knew she wasn’t convinced. It was in her nature to run away from what she feared, or distrusted. Her flight to Sunnydale was proof of that. It was only Buffy’s influence that seemed to bring her to any degree of acceptance where authority was ncerned, and of late even that influence seemed limited. He decided to try another approach.

“Faith. This kind of thing has happened before. No one, not even a Watcher, can truly know what it is that you face, the stress that you operate under. But you have an advantage that no other Slayer has ever had: You are not alone.” She looked him, uncertain, and he continued.

“Buffy is here for you, and she knows exactly what it is that you are going through. She herself has had terrible things happen to her, and those around her. She’s faced pain that I cannot imagine, and yet she’s become stronger because of it.”

He smiled encouragingly.

“Buffy has run away, twice, when it seemed to her that she couldn’t go on being the Slayer. But each time, she was able to come to terms with it, to find the strength within herself to continue. You can find that strength too. But you don’t have do it alone, we are here to help you, if you let us.”

Faith shifted where she sat, struggling with herself.

“Listen to this shit,” She thought. “He can’t even talk to me without holding up Buffy as my role model. ‘Come on Faith, if you try really, really hard, you might manage to be half as good as Buffy. We don’t expect anything more of you, really’. She seethed inside, wanting nothing more that to smack his teeth down his throat (and she could do it, too. She knew that from experiance). She held herself still, remembering that the Mayor needed her here. And of course, Buffy would never forgive r if she hurt ‘Giles the father figure’.

Giles was waiting for her to answer. She knew that she was not a good liar, so she tried the same tactic that had worked earlier, with Buffy: Tell him the truth... Mostly.

“I... know that I have a job to do. I just have a problem with you guys telling me how to do it.” She looked up at him and he nodded for her to continue. “It’s just that, it’s me and Buffy out there, you know? So how come it’s you and Wes calli the shots?”

He pulled out a chair and sat, facing her.

“That is a reasonable question. It’s a question of age, Faith. And maturity. Slayers are called very young. And they are asked to perform a task that anyone with a bit of sense can see is nearly impossible. The Watcher is meant to provide guida e, to allow the Slayer to benefit from their experience. And, given time, I believe the Slayer can and should take a more active role in determining what actions need to be taken in given circumstances.” He smiled. “Buffy, more often than me, decides hat we do and how we do it. I’ve become relegated to an advisor on the arcane, and sometime devil’s advocate.”

She leaned forward.

“Yeah, and look what that got you: Fired. Kind of makes you wonder what those guys in England are thinking the ‘Watcher/Slayer’ thing should be, huh?”

He looked at her.

“Buffy and I have worked out a partnership which suits us both. The Council cannot change that, no matter how much they would like to. What you must do is work with Wesley, give him the same chance that Buffy gave me.” He took a deep breath. “Wh ever his faults, and I admit that he has them, Wesley is well-grounded in the lore you need, as the Slayer. Given time, I think you can learn from each other, as Buffy and I have. You can find your own balance, your own partnership, and the Council ca go bugger themselves.”

He took off his glasses to clean them.

“You keep trying to make this about the Council, about the unfairness of it all. And you’re right: It is unfair. It is a hideous, unforgivable thing that young lives must be gambled in order to preserve an uncaring world. But that is the way of ings. The real issue here is trust.” He replace his glasses, and looked at her carefully.

“Can you trust us Faith? Can we trust you?”

She looked down, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Trust the Watchers? Well, let me see,” She started ticking off items on her fingers. “My first Watcher, I trusted her to know what to do, like you want me to trust Wes. She was supposed to be there, to help me.” Her throat felt suddenly tight, ut she forced herself to go on. “She sure screwed that one up. She got herself tortured to death. The only reason I lived through that one is that I ran here.” She held out a second finger. “Next Watcher: Gwen Post.” She gave him a look and he gla ed away. “Yep. ‘Nuff said on that one. And third, there’s good ol’ Wesley.” She gave him a grin. “What a prince, huh? Saves me from Angel so he can chain me up and drag me off to England for ‘Trial’. And you know what?” She leaned forward, then y facedown on the table, propping herself on her crossed arms so that their faces were just a foot apart. He sat facing her, waiting. She smiled widely.

“I’ve been thinking about that part. Say the council decides that they don’t like me, or what I did. What are they gonna do? Lock me up? That seems like kind of a waste, don’t you think?” She lowered her head, resting her chin on her arms. “Bu if they were to.. oh, kill me... Well then, they’d get a brand new Slayer, wouldn’t they?” She looked at him expectantly, but he said nothing. His face might have been stone, for all the expression it conveyed. She nodded. “Uh huh. That’s what I t ught. So, that’s no hits and three misses for me in the Watcher department so far.”

She pulled herself back up into a sitting position. After long moments of silence she gave a sigh.

“Okay.”

He looked up at her in surprise.

“Pardon me?”

She shrugged.

“I said ’Okay’. I’ll stay. I’ll do what you want.”

His eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious.

“And this is because of what, exactly?”

She looked around the room, not meeting his gaze.

“Mostly cause, well...” She rubbed her hands on her thighs, her palms damp against the slippery leather. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I mean,” She looked down, letting her hair hide her face. “What else could a Slayer do? Guess we’re all tuck with each other.”

Giles watched her, and felt an uneasy sensation in his stomach. She seemed sincere enough on the surface, certainly her tirade had been heartfelt. But now, this sudden acquiescence... Her body language suggested that she was hiding something, but hat?

At that moment they were interrupted by someone walking though the Library doors. Wesley paused at the front desk, not looking up from the papers he was reading. He set his briefcase down on the counter and called out.

“Mr. Giles? Are you here?”

Faith looked at him, then at Giles. He sighed and turned in his chair.

“Here. And we have a guest.”

Wesley turned. He registered Faith sitting on the table, and his eyes went wide. Dropping the pages he was holding, he whirled and began clawing at his briefcase, trying to open it.

Faith was a blur in Giles’s peripheral vision, exploding to her feet, impossibly fast. Moving with speed born of desperation, Giles came out of his chair, moving towards Wesley. The younger watcher had his briefcase open, and was fumbling with a b ky pistol. Giles felt his stomach drop. It was a smaller version of the dart rifle he kept under the counter. The fool obviously planned to tranquilize Faith. Behind him, Faith had seen it too. In an instant she was airborne, somersaulting upwards d back, to drop behind the railing on the Library’s upper level. One hand grabbed a narrow decorative spindle under the rail, and with a single pull she ripped it free. The splintering crack sounded through the room and Giles turned. He saw her crouc d, holding the arm-long piece of wood like a javelin. He whirled back to face Wesley, who was bringing the pistol up in both hands.

“Faith! Wesley! NO!” His voice struck them both, shocking them motionless. Giles moved towards the Watcher slowly, his arms extended.

“Put it down, Man.” Wesley’s hands were trembling, the gun barrel moving about wildly. He didn’t look behind him, but Giles was certain that Faith’s hands weren’t trembling at all. He moved closer to Wesley, trying to keep from provoking the frig ened man into firing. It was unlikely that he would hit Faith, but he might well hit Giles himself. He had no desire to experience that again.

“G-Giles! Move clear! We must subdue her!”

The older man shook his head.

“No. We must talk to her.” He took another step closer. “We’ve been talking. Now you need to join us.” He lowered his hands and waited for Wesley to meet his eyes. When he did, Giles spoke quietly. “Don’t be a fool. She is a Slayer. If she nted to kill you, she would have already put that thing she’s holding right through your heart.” He reached out a hand. “Give that to me, man, and lets TALK to her.”

Wesley stared at him for long moments, but finally let the gun lower towards the floor. Giles stepped forward and took it from him. He tossed it back into Wesley’s briefcase before turning. Faith straightened, lowering her own makeshift weapon. iling faintly at the men, she twirled it like a baton, the air humming with the speed of its passage.

“Hiya Wes. How’s the head?”

Wesley frowned, touching the knot on his forehead from where she had headbutted him into unconsciousness two nights previous. Giles scowled.

“Enough of that, Faith. Come down here. The two of you need to settle things.” She looked sullen, but she obeyed, dropping the wooden spar and leaping lightly down the steps. Wesley looked nervous and straightened his tie, but followed Giles to e table.

Faith started to hop up on the table once more, but Giles gestured her to a chair. She visibly swallowed a comment, but settled into a seat facing his. Wesley sat next to him, looking at Faith warily. She smiled at him, then turned to look at Gil .

He cleared his throat.

“Wesley; Faith has agreed to continue with her duties as a Slayer. She will cooperate with you in every way.” He looked at her, and she nodded, glancing down at the table. He turned to regard the other man. “In return, there will be no reprisals or any earlier incidents. No threats of drugs, or chains, or imprisonment. You will work together, as Watchers and Slayers have sometimes been known to do.” Wesley straightened his glasses in that slow, finicky way that he had. Folding his hands on e table before him, he addressed Faith without quite looking at her.

“You agree to abide by my decisions? Without question?”

She leaned back in her chair and stared at the skylight in the ceiling.

“Sure, whatever.”

Wesley’s expression took on a smugness as he felt his control of the situation growing more certain.

“The Council instructs us to return to England, so that they may ascertain for themselves your suitability as a Slayer. We shall leave tomorrow morning.”

Faith jerked upright in her chair and looked at Giles, her expression murderous. He knew that she would be gone in an instant unless he stopped her. Turning to the young Watcher beside him, he said:

“No.”

Wesley turned his head, eyebrows raised.

“I beg your pardon?”

Giles returned the look with one of his own.

“I said No. Faith stays here, in Sunnydale.”

Wesley sputtered in protest, but Giles went on.

“Any testing of Faith can be done here. I’ll assist you. And perhaps, just to be fair, Buffy should also undergo anything we require of Faith.” He glanced at her and she nodded, surprised. He turned back to Wesley.

“I think that’s settled. She stays here, where she’s needed.”

Wesley looked away, flustered, but unable to argue with the older man. Finally he gathered what dignity remained to him.

“I agree.” He tried to make it sound like it was his idea to begin with.

“Tomorrow, Buffy and Faith shall be tested for mental stability, and also, physical ability.” Faith gave him a puzzled look, and he smiled as he continued.

“It has long been argued among the Council that Slayers tend to grow more powerful as they mature, particularly when they are forced to stretch themselves against powerful opponents. Here we have an unprecedented opportunity to test this theory. B fy, as the more experienced Slayer, versus Faith, the nearly untried recruit.”

Faith glared at him, but he ignored her. Pleased with himself, he stood and straightened his jacket. Giles took off his glasses and massaged his eyes. The idiot seemed incapable of NOT offending either of the Slayers. He would need Giles to stay lose to him if he expected to live out the week. He glanced at Faith. She had leaned back into her chair, sulking. Giles sighed. It wasn’t fair to expect her to be like Buffy, but it was painfully obvious: Faith would never be the person Buffy was; he had been too badly damaged. The best that could be hoped for was that she could be salvaged as a Slayer, a Weapon. That would give her the purpose she so badly needed. And after all, that was all the Council, and Wesley, wanted of her anyway. He ghed once more. “What a waste.”

“What a waste,” Faith thought, listening to Wesley going on and on. It was funny, in a way. The only reason this moron would live, was because Faith had to pretend to be a good little Slayer, taking orders from him. Given her own preferences, she ould break all his limbs and leave him on some railroad tracks. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Wow, nasty image. Maybe she would just settle on the breaking limbs part. She thought happily about how well things had gone. She was back, just like yor Wilkens wanted. Now she just had to play along, and let him know anything interesting that happened. It made being around Wesley kind of fun, actually. Putting one over on him, on all of them, while they thought they had her toeing the line.

Giles, on the other hand... Him she would have to be careful around. He was smart, and a lot more likely to catch her if she forgot herself and let something slip. Of course, he spent most of his time with Buffy, just like everyone else. She fel depressed all of a sudden, as she wondered, not for the first time, how it must feel to have someone treat you like you were the most important person in the world. It must be nice, she thought.

“I’ll bet it’s really, really nice...”