Chapter 1: Faith

Faith stalks. She doesn't set a trap or lie in wait. She stalks, like any natural hunter. Unafraid, unashamed. She's in it for the kill. No pity for the weak prey in her sights, no sympathy for its distress and inevitable painful death.

And there will be death.

She never wanted to come back here. To its dead streets and hollow corners. Ghosts are all that's left here for her. Ghosts and a sad funerary feeling.

She had thought, once, that she could stay with Robin. She'd fooled herself again that Giles could fix her. That he could answer the questions in her soul, provide her with that safe feeling she's seen on TV.

And a million years ago, there was a moment when she thought she'd felt that. Maybe touched it.

It's all over now. She's not going back. And nothing and no one will ever try to touch her again.

Her mind fleetingly races with something about full circles, and back to the beginning. A fitting end or whatever.

In fucking Boston.

Faith doesn't eat. She doesn't sleep. She walks the streets without seeing. Along Dorchester to West Broadway past the Goodwill that for the first ten years of her life provided the necessities of clothing and furniture, toys such as they were.

Then she learned to steal, learned to lie. Learned to hurt and destroy. And the world opened up wider than she could handle. It ate her up. She gnawed right back, spitting it in the face of everyone nearby. And she wasn't hungry anymore.

But she's not thinking this. It just is, like a backdrop screen for a cheap fifties musical. You know it's there, but you pretend it's something else. It would ruin the movie otherwise.

She pounds the sidewalk down with her boots. Her stomach growls, her eyes are red with sleep and something else she's ignoring.

She doesn't eat. She doesn't sleep. She doesn't feel.

It's done now, but Faith feels… less. Not the relief she was expecting. Or the guilt, which honestly wouldn't have mattered. Willow is staring with her eyes and her heart hanging out. Like she can't believe it. Like she didn't know. Like she didn't practically ask for this.

Faith smiles. Willow's gonna recover. Gonna see this for what it is, what it means. Nobody gets out of this clean. Not even Buffy Summers. She's gonna live with the mark of this for a long, long time.

But everyone's marked. Everyone's tainted and broken and stupid. Faith's just done hiding and pretending that she's not.

The real question is can Willow actually do it? Or is Faith gonna have to roll up her sleeves again?

Faith had a car once. When she was fourteen, for two months. She'd even paid for it, $300 bucks to some strung out freak. It was ugly, blue and rusted with plastic seats and a broken speedometer. She loved it. It was everything; a place to crash, freedom, safety. She drove clear to Detroit once for a concert. Didn't tell anyone. Nobody asked.

She almost got all the way home before it died. It just stopped on the Mass Pike outside Framingham, blocking traffic and giving Faith that panicky feeling when things are out of control. She sat there turning the key in the ignition, swearing and slamming her hands on the wheel for a half-hour until the tow truck came and moved her to the shoulder. She couldn't afford the trip into Boston.

She left her car there and hitched a ride with a couple of nice Harvard boys. She learned new things.

Didn't tell anyone. Nobody asked. She never got the car back.

The concert rocked pretty hard though.

Night is when she moves. She glides through the darkness, she swims in it. She belongs to it. She can feel herself breathing it in, feels it sticking to her insides.

The sun offends her eyes. It hurts her skin and shows too much. Daylight confuses her now. Nothing should be that bright. Nothing should be that clear or colourful.

Not anymore.

Willow calls her in a panic. It's too early in the morning, and Faith doesn't understand right away. She laughs. Making jokes about Buffy, cracks about Satsu. Schoolgirl crushes and something about 'eating out'.

But then she feels it. Or rather she doesn't. It's just gone. And from what Willow is saying, it's gone forever.

Faith lets the phone drop. Lets Willow keep rambling and crying to the empty air. She can still hear her voice. Japanese vampires and a red flash. Something about the scythe.

She grabs her jacket from the back of the chair. She has a mission. Her first as the one and only Chosen one, and her last. She knows that much.

Faith finds her alone. Sitting of all places in a graveyard, crying.

It doesn't move her. She doesn't want to care. She doesn't want to talk. She doesn't want to learn and grow and share and cry.

Satsu begs. She cries out her explanation with tears and gulping sobs. Willow reaches out to Faith, pleading with her to give the girl a chance, to give herself a chance.

This little girl. This stupid, sad little girl. This traitor, this bitch. She loved her, no surprise. Loved her so much she betrayed her to keep her. Thought Buffy would be happier without the burden. More free, more able to love her back. She thought…

It doesn't matter why. The reason is always the same. Love and selfishness and fear.

Faith takes a step forward, pulling the knife from its sheath. She can't hear anything else.

Satsu hurt Buffy. Satsu stole from Buffy, stole everything that mattered. Took it away, and left Faith alone. Satsu will pay.

Faith watches calmly while Willow tries her best. It won't work. It's too late.

She sits down on a tombstone. Looks at the blood that drips off the knifepoint, onto her hands and her jeans.

She watches Willow watching her. Wants to laugh at the fear in her eyes. Silly witch.

She's going to tell her. Just do it. Save everyone the trouble of a big showdown. This is the plan; it has been since the beginning. Faith makes the mess, and Willow cleans it up. She'll understand. Willow went to the dark place too. She'll see.

Faith closes her eyes.

Just do it.