"Faith, I understand that you've had a long night, but I think it's time for that talk."

Faith stopped in her tracks, having only managed to get one foot on the bottom stair inside the Summers' house. Great, she thought sarcastically, though she'd already known the ride home came with strings fully attached, and unfortunately Buffy couldn't save her twice. Not after Faith had pushed her away. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I was way out of line." Her eyes remained on the stairs, and she considered putting her Slayer speed to good use and bolting for her room before Joyce could so much as utter another word.

"Mr. Giles already explained why you and Buffy were acting oddly. That's not the problem."

"Oh. Well if it's the statue, I can get you the money for a new one."

"Don't worry about that old thing. There's a reason I kept it hidden away in the spare room."

Faith shook her head as she turned to face Joyce. "Then what?"

"You've seen that I don't have many rules in this house. The main one is that I expect to be shown some decency and respect, and you've done nothing but that while you've stayed here." Faith knew it wouldn't be as easy as receiving a thumbs up, and she found her hand fidgeting with the top of the banister while she waited to find out what would come next.

"After you and Buffy took off last night I went in your room to survey the damage-" Joyce paused off Faith's shocked look. "Don't worry, I didn't snoop," she reassured her. "But I did see the bottle of alcohol on the floor."

"I paid for it-" Faith began immediately.

"That's really not the point," Joyce cut her off, her tone effortlessly shifting toward stern in a manner that suggested many years of practice. "You're still a minor, Faith, and I won't have you drinking while you're living under my roof."

Faith felt a brief moment of uncertainty, and she acted quickly to shut it out. "Fine. I can fix that," she said, already heading for the front door without further thought. Joyce moved just as quick, stepping to her side to block the exit. "You wanna get out of my way?" Faith asked, little more than a slither of a warning behind the words.

"Are you going to throw me out the way if I don't?" Faith watched her, waiting for her to back down, but Joyce stood firm. "Do you really think going back to a dingy motel room to drink yourself into a coma is going to make anything better?"

Faith let out a tired sigh before turning around and pacing farther down the hallway. "God damn-it," she muttered, "what is it with you Summers women?"

"We're a pain, I know. Trust me, I've been trying to figure one out for over eighteen years now, and I'm still not sure if I've gotten anywhere." The joke wasn't lost on Faith, but her dour mood wouldn't allow even a small smile to form. "I haven't told Buffy about it, and I wouldn't without your permission. But I know she's worried about you and so am I. I really think you should talk to someone, and if you don't feel comfortable discussing it with Buffy then I'm always willing to listen."

Faith crossed her arms tightly, her back still turned toward Joyce. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Joyce said simply, and then she stayed silent, waiting for Faith's eyes to find their way to her own before elaborating. "I may not be able to slay vampires, or do spells, or – or know how to kill demons, but I've been around for some time now Faith, and I know a little something about life. I know it can be painful, and I know sometimes it can feel like it's too much."

Faith's reply was hesitant as she busied herself trying to weigh up the situation. Just the thought of talking about her to past to anyone made her sick to her stomach, especially to someone still under the impression that she was a good person. To someone who didn't look down on her as a screw-up. But she had no desire to go back to wallowing in some trashy motel either, and she knew all too well that she didn't have the cash to stay anywhere nicer for any real length of time. "What has Buffy told you?" she asked.

A thin smile formed on Joyce's face. "Not much. I'm usually the last to know anything. After all, I'm only her mother."

"Yeah," Faith said quietly, mostly to herself, and her eyes dropped to the carpet. She understood that – how it felt being on the outside, to not be a part of anything. Each day, for as long as she could remember, she'd continued to tell herself that it didn't matter. That she was be better off alone. And eventually she'd even grown to believe it. Only once she'd met Buffy did that belief truly start to falter, the foundation of her carefully constructed walls beginning to crack apart.

"Why don't I get us both a drink – of the non-alcoholic variety – and then we can see where we go from there."

"I don't know if I can."

"Then we'll just sit. No pressure, I promise."

----------

Buffy and Willow walked side by side through the college hallway, both of them cradling a mug of comforting hot cocoa close to their chests. They moved with no real urgency, looking only to put off heading outside in to the continuing bad weather. The heavy rain had stopped and started all night, and, unable to get any real sleep, Buffy had found herself waiting for her dorm room window to cave in against the repeated assaults from the strong wind.

"I can't believe Giles hasn't gotten anywhere with the research," Buffy complained. "I think all that time lounging about at home is costing him his edge."

"He says we need more to go on to narrow it down. Apparently there are a lot of ways to mess with someone's mind, which, by the way, is a little unsettling. Now my brain feels all helpless and exposed."

Willow pouted her disapproval, and Buffy patted her on the head. "Don't worry, I am more than willing to work through the entire list and kill everything on it if that's what it takes."

"You don't remember anything at all that might have started it? Say for example a conspicuous looking demon, or someone trying to steal your hair? Maybe even some radioactive ooze you accidentally trod in?"

Buffy's exasperated sigh alone would have been enough of an answer. She'd spent the early hours of the morning trying to put together the details, and she had absolutely nothing to show for it. "I wish I did, but I was just sat in class when this thought crept into my head. I told myself I was being ridiculous and tried to forget about it, but then it kept pushing its way back, stronger and stronger each time. I don't even remember the tipping point – one minute I'm on my way to patrol, this horrible nagging sensation clawing at my mind, and the next I'm kneeling over Faith ready to... God, just thinking about it makes me cringe."

"Sorry," Willow offered sympathetically. "How did Faith take it? Hopefully she's not planning on, oh I don't know, strangling your friends or anything. For instance."

"Will, please-" Buffy started.

"OK, that wasn't helpful," Willow instantly conceded, looking guilty enough for Buffy to let the comment slide.

"She took it a lot better than expected, which definitely helps. It's kind of weird really. I mean wouldn't you be at least a little freaked if I tried to kill you?"

"If a Slayer tried to kill me, I think mostly I'd be a little dead. I have to say though, her dealing doesn't seem to rank too highly on the uh-oh scale."

"Not really," Buffy admitted. "I'm just worried there's something else going on with her."

"Something like what?"

"Therein lies the problem – I have no idea. She wouldn't say, and past experience suggests that pushing with Faith tends to, well, push. In the sense of her moving further away. I just wish she could trust me enough to open up. Of course I'm sure beating her to a bloody pulp will have done wonders there."

"Maybe she just needs some time to get her head together," Willow offered. "It sounds like it was a rough night for both of you."

"Maybe," Buffy half-heartedly agreed, knowing deep down there had to be more to it than that. "Don't you think problems are so much easier when you can just punch them in their deformed, demonic faces?" Without thinking, she jabbed her hand forward in demonstration, and her eyes widened as the hot cocoa spilled from her mug. She couldn't look away as it moved through the air in slow motion, heading straight toward the chest of its unsuspecting victim.

Jacob quickly pulled off his cocoa-covered t-shirt and then pulled the stained, formerly all-white vest underneath out away from his skin.

"Ooh," Buffy said, wincing. She automatically put her hands out to help before realizing there wasn't a whole lot she could do. "I am so sorry."

"It's OK, I think the double layering took the brunt of it. I'm just glad it's not Summer."

Buffy offered him a nervous smile. It seemed nobody was all that safe around her at the moment.

"Nice tattoo," Willow said, and Buffy followed her eyes to the simple design that wrapped around the curve of his shoulder.

Jacob shuffled around, keeping the bulk of it from view. "You know how it is. Everyone's got to make at least one stupid decision in their life. Figured I'd get in there early."

"I hear you," Willow said earnestly. "When I was eight I had Tweety Bird tattooed on my arm."

Buffy's eyebrows involuntarily rose as she looked to Willow, and she couldn't decide whether it was a result of scepticism or surprise.

Willow must have seen the shock on Buffy's face because she quickly clarified, "oh, well it was a transfer one. It was only meant to last a few days, but I felt so guilty about it that I spent three hours scrubbing it off the same night to make sure my parents wouldn't see."

Buffy smiled in amusement. "You're a real menace to society, Will."

"Tell me about it. This girl cannot be tamed." Her eyes flicked between Buffy and Jacob before she pointed down the hall. "Oh, look, Oz. I'm going to..."

She sped off before an open-mouthed Buffy could even get out a goodbye, and Buffy smiled awkwardly at Jacob. "Sugar rush," she offered by way of explanation.

"Which is kind of endearing I guess. So..."

"I really am sorry," she got in quickly. "But maybe I could buy you a drink to make it up to you?"

"That depends, you're not planning to throw it on me are you?"

"Well I can't promise anything, but I didn't have it specifically pencilled in. Did I mention I was sorry about that?"

"You did actually. Three times now I think. Maybe if you're free later we could meet in the cafeteria?"

"Actually I'm kind of all scheduled up today. But maybe later this week?" Her concerns weren't likely to be going anywhere until she made sure Faith was doing OK, and she figured she should check in with Giles at some point too.

"That could work well. I'm kind of having a get together at my place Friday night. Just a small crowd; some people I've met over the last week or so. You're more than welcome to come along. And if you're still working your way up to the partying aspect of college then maybe it would make a good halfway point?"

A little relaxation wouldn't do her any harm, she considered, and she could really do with taking her mind of things for a couple of hours. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

----------

Faith took the smallest of sips, drinking barely enough liquid to warm the base of her tongue; she figured the longer she made it last the longer she could put off saying anything. The silence continued to slowly gnaw away at her resolve, and yet somehow Joyce looked perfectly at ease, almost as if her thoughts were a few counties away.

Maybe she could offer Joyce something small, Faith considered, though she quickly realized the slight flaw with that plan: what could she possibly say? 'Oh, by the way, I chained your daughter to a wall and tried to get her boyfriend to kill her – real sorry about that.' Yeah, that's what every mother loves to hear. She didn't have any small mistakes; it seemed like everything she touched went to hell in the worst possible way.

"Do you have any family, Faith? You've been in Sunnydale for a while now. Isn't there somebody back home worrying about you?"

So much for putting it off, Faith thought. She shook her head, keeping her expression blank.

"But you're only seventeen. Surely there must be someone? Parents? Or guardians?"

"It's just me," she confirmed. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands dropping from the table to her lap. "There was... I lived with my watcher for a while."

"Well, why don't you tell me about her?"

Faith drew in a deep breath. The kitchen suddenly felt far too small, the table smaller still, and she pushed her chair back, rising up and trying to act casual as she took her time crossing the short distance to the window. Leaning against the counter, she watched as the small drops of rain splashed against the glass, piling on top of one another and blurring the view of the garden. Her eyes roamed to the side, setting on the potted plant that stood innocently by the wall. Knowing full well of the Buffy mishap its job was to hide, a thin smile crossed her face as she carefully ran her finger and thumb down one of its thin, dainty leaves. "She was cool," she said finally. "You know, for a stuffy British type."

No response came and so Faith carried on, reminding herself as much as telling Joyce. "She didn't care where I came from, or that I'd never really amounted to anything before. She didn't look down on me like everyone else. All she saw was what I could be. Had me pegged as some kind of hero from day one." Faith snorted out a rough laugh. "Shows what she knew." A twinge of anger swept through her, too overwhelming to ignore, and she lashed out, driving her knuckles hard into the edge of the kitchen counter. The impact shook the entire counter, the vibrations carrying far enough to rattle the dishes that stood drying by the sink. Her battle-hardened skin didn't crack, and she ignored the pain that soared through her hand. "She should have stayed the hell away from me. At least then she'd still be alive."

"You have a dangerous job, Faith, and while you may not have had a choice, I'm sure she did." Joyce's voice had remained calm despite Faith's violent outburst. "She will have known full well what she was getting in to, and maybe she decided you were worth the risk. But whatever the reason for her decision, you can't hold yourself responsible for saving everyone."

Faith shook her head, unable to take comfort from Joyce's words. "She told me not to go after them. She told me to hold off until we knew what was going on. But I didn't listen. I thought I could handle it. I didn't know what would-" It never took much to bring the final seconds of her watcher's life crashing back into her head. Not only because of the brutal manner of her death, but because Faith had, in that very quick, very sudden moment, failed her in every possible way. Diana had always stood by her side, and as if letting her die hadn't been bad enough, what had Faith done next? She had run. Diana had been her watcher, and yet she'd run away as fast as she could, leaving the lifeless, desecrated body to rot away unattended. "I just wish..."

She paced the length of the room, her hand trailing limply across the surface of the kitchen counter. "I wish I could tell her how sorry I was," she finished quietly. Her runaway emotions were dashing back and forth across the spectrum, unable to stick to any particular motif for long. Affection fought an impossible battle again frustration, and she had to grit her teeth to keep back the tears as guilt looked to usurp her anger.

"Maybe you can. Maybe she's listening."

"What, you mean like from heaven or something?" Faith scoffed as she turned back to the table.

Joyce calmly rose to her feet, and if she was unnerved she didn't let it show, instead offering Faith a small smile. "I don't know. Perhaps. I'm not really sure what I believe in, but I'd like to think that once I'm gone I'll still be out there somewhere, looking over Buffy. Just to make sure she's OK."

The sentiment brought a fleeting smile to Faith's face, only for it to be chased away by her bitter thoughts. "Great, so she gets a front row to seat to watch me screw up everyone else's life as well. At least she'll know it was nothing personal." Faith smirked, the action a result of her sad realisation. "But you know what the funny part is? I always wanted to be more than some pathetic, overlooked little girl. Turns out, everyone would have been better off if I'd just stayed a nobody."

"It's no secret that I've never been thrilled that Buffy was chosen for this... this whole Slaying thing. I hope that doesn't make me a bad mother, but believe me, knowing your daughter is out there fighting for her life is not a barrel of laughs. I do know this though – I've been able to sleep a lot easier knowing that you and her are looking out for each other. So for what it's worth, I for one am more than glad to have you here, Faith. And I can seen how well you and Buffy get on, so I know that's at least two lives you've made better."

Joyce turned to lean against the counter at Faith's side. Together they stared across the room in silence for some time, the bare wall opposite offering little in the way of a view.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Faith admitted quietly.

"I guess that's really up to you. But whatever it may be, you're a strong, capable woman. I know you can do whatever you set your mind to, Faith; you just need to give yourself the chance."

----------

Faith hesitated before knocking, and then she stood waiting, the small enclose shielding her from the rain. Not one for patience, her fist was prepped to try again just as the door swung open.

"Faith," Giles said, the surprise in his voice unmistakable. "I, umm, what can I do for you?"

Faith took a while to respond, partly because she didn't really plan on having a conversation on Giles' porch and partly because her last minute jitters weren't quite through telling her to turn back around. "Can I come in?" she asked finally, once it became obvious Giles was unlikely to move of his own accord.

"Yes. Yes, of course." He stepped back, holding the door open with one hand and ushering her in with the other. "Please, make yourself at home."

Faith hugged her arms around herself as she walked inside. She eyed the chairs but opted to remain standing, positioning her back against the far wall before focusing on Giles.

"Is there anything in particular I can help you with?" he asked as he made his way to the table across from her. A large number of open books were scattered messily across the surface, layered on top of one another and pointing in just about every direction possible. "I'm afraid I've yet to come up with anything concrete regarding..." He perched against the table, his hand reaching for his glasses.

"That's not why I'm here."

"No? If you're looking for Buffy, I'm sure she'll be arriving shortly. Can I get you a drink while you wait?" He didn't hang around for an answer, rubbing his eyes with his free hand as he turned for the adjoining kitchen.

"I can't keep doing this," Faith blurted out, her outburst stopping him in his tracks. He turned back to her, slowly replacing his glasses and peering through them cautiously.

"Can't keep doing what?"

Faith swallowed the tiny amount of saliva left in her dry mouth; maybe she should have taken that drink first, she thought to herself. Her eyes found interest in the stack of cardboard boxes placed in the corner of the room. She still had time to get out of there before she made a fool of herself. Why would this even change anything?

"Faith?"

"My last watcher, she – Diana – she gave me direction. I had a purpose. A reason to fight." Her fists clenched as she fought to keep her emotions in check, and she took a deep breath before continuing, her head rolling forward as she tried to release some of the stress caged in her body. "I want that again. I can't just keep sitting around feeling sorry for myself waiting for God-knows-what to make everything better. I want to help people again... I want to make up for the things I've done."

"And you think I might be able to help?" Giles asked, and Faith could practically see his mind ticking over.

"Look, I'll get it if you don't want to, but if it's cool with B I thought maybe you could pull double watcher duty."

"I see," Giles said simply.

"If you've got time," she added quickly, giving him an easy way out and fully expecting him to take it.

"I dare say I've found myself with an awful lot of it these days," he said as he rose from the table. "Time that is." His hand waved vaguely around the room. "Though as you can see, the same can't be said for the amount of living space. I'm not really set up for it at the moment – Buffy hasn't really been doing much in the way of training since finishing high school. I think university is keeping her sufficiently occupied for the time being."

Faith's eyes lowered to the floor, and not only to keep them from rolling. His response was hardly surprising, but she'd expected a better excuse than that. She wished she could at least feel angry, but it was his decision to make. He didn't owe her anything, and she should have known better than to expect favours from anyone.

"Give me a day or two though, a-and I'm sure I can sort something out," he continued. Faith looked up, eyeing him cautiously. "In the meantime, perhaps you could be of assistance with trying to find out what attacked you and Buffy? There's an awful lot of literature, and not a whole lot to go on at the moment. And you never know, with any luck something may trigger a memory."

Caught completely off guard, at first all Faith could manage was a brief nod of her head. Research wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind, but if she was going to get then she was going to have to give a little as well. Her eyes scanned across the table once more; there really were a lot of books there. "Just point me at the right one."

Giles sighed as his eyes travelled across the array of open texts. "Your guess is as good a mine so take your pick. Although best to stay away from that one on the far end. It's in Hebrew. And also, a tad overwritten." A small smile made its way on to his face as he finished, his short, nervous laugh barely audible.

"Right." She took a seat and spun the nearest book toward her, eyeing it with only the smallest amount of distaste.

"Oh, I just remembered, I have something of yours," he said, moving out of sight toward the front door. "I meant to give it to you last night, but it must have slipped my mind," he called back, reappearing only seconds later to place the object down in front of her.

Faith studied it silently, her eyes running up the curved, black and red handle before lingering on the split-blade design. She'd never come across a blade as beautiful as that one, and she doubted she ever would again. Her hand hovered over it for several seconds, her fingers anticipating wrapping around the handle, and she allowed her thoughts to shift to Mayor Wilkins.

There'd been a time when he'd been the only thing she had, or so she'd thought. Of course, she hadn't realized back then that the person she thought she'd lost forever had still been holding out for her. While she'd lost all hope, Buffy hadn't, and while she didn't know exactly what that meant, she did know that she wouldn't be alone any longer.

"Bin it," she said finally, pulling her hand away.

"Are you sure?" Giles asked, and Faith looked up to see his brow fully furrowed.

She gave it one final goodbye glance before confidently nodding her decision.

"It's not mine."