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Summary: The Goa'uld threat is spreading rapidly, feeling a bit outgunned, SGC starts looking to increase it defenses from home. The Initiative is willing to drop a name for a price; but what happens when it is Sam's sister? Response to the Problem Child Challenge

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Buffy-CenteredheathenseyesFR151247,05025376135,6049 Jan 0714 Apr 13No

Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: The same one applies as all the rest of the chapters I've put up o far; I don't own anything of either SG1 or BtVS

Note: Sorry for any mistakes, they are all mine, if anything is glaringly horrible just let me know and I will fix it.

Special thanks to Meri, Pol, and Ivy. Love you darlings!!!!

Summary: After leaving her sister in a mental institution years ago, Sam Carter had thought she had gotten over Elizabeth Summers untimely death three years ago. But, when Carter's alternate self from another reality comes through the Quantum Mirror she hears that Dr. Samantha Carter's ( "I prefer Samantha, thanks") sister, though having died at a young age, had a wonderful life, a loving husband, and a supportive sister. The incident leaves Carter wondering, had she not abandoned her own sister, would the young woman still be alive? Or, at the very least, would she have died knowing that her sister had loved her? But, is her sister really as dead as she believes? Nah. After all, what would have happened if no one had informed Sam that her sister had been brought back to life a year after her death? And now with the Goa'uld inching closer and closer, secrets and misconceptions are ready to be brought into the light, whether any one wants them to be or not.

Chapter Eight


Faith was tired, she was irate, she was deeply disturbed by recent events, and more than ever she just wanted to hit something. Repeatedly.

Closing the door behind her, she leaned against the aged oak for a few moments, just trying to remember why being one of the good guys had such a big appeal.

The good guys had crappy hours, no personal life, and a tendency to have life come up and bite them in the ass more often than not.

Yeah, being on the side of all that was good and sugary sweet. Whoo-hoo.

She’d had a hell of a lot more fun being rogue.

So what if she'd been constantly on the run from both the Council and the cops? She'd still been free? She'd still dictated what her life was going to be. She'd been able to go to bed whenever she had wanted. She'd been able to cuss and flirt and fuck her way through whatever backwater bar she wanted too. She'd been able to do anything she'd wanted.

She'd been able to run, to avoid, to flee from her past.

Being good meant that it could catch back up with her in the form of Buffy and Dawn Summers.

It had been a long time since she'd let anyone in, since she'd allowed herself to really care about anyone, and she'd been fine with that.


Screw whoever said she hadn't been...fricking panty-waist, gel-brained vampire that Angel was.


Being domesticated sucked.

Being good sucked even more because she wasn't technically allowed to go out and slay humans, even though Faith had severe questions about just how human Buffy's biological family were if they frickin' locked her into a damned loony bin and then just shoved her onto the nearest available relative.

Pushing away from the door, Faith shrugged out of her shirt, quickly slid her jeans off, and made her way towards her bed, leaving the clothes where they had fallen, naked but for the boy shorts she‘d worn beneath her jeans.

Sliding underneath the covers she looked around furtively while one hand sneaked beneath the pillows. Quietly, she drew out her tank top...which just happened to be wrapped around a couple of files.

Slipping on the thin cotton tank took only seconds and by time she'd reached over and flicked on the lamp beside her bed, she'd already pulled the largest file onto her lap and opened it.

A much younger Buffy stared up at her, there were bags beneath the hazel eyes, and a tired twist to lips normally occupied by a smile; faint bruises stood out against the pale skin varying in colors from a deep black to a sickly yellow, bruises which Faith had learned from reading the file that Buffy had sustained while trying to escape the mental ward because the guards had been forced to 'subdue' her. From the date printed on the back of the picture, the photo was taken only two days after her admittance.

Poor B.

Faith guessed she'd been blessed, in a way; her mom, had Faith still been with her when Diana had entered her life, wouldn't have cared enough to worry if Faith had started talking about vampires and demons. Not even the few foster families she'd stayed would have been too concerned since most of them had been more concerned with the extra money she brought in every month than anything else.

No one would have cared enough about her to have her institutionalized and Faith was a little thankful about that fact.

Being screwed over like that would have probably driven her over the edge. Not that her life hadn’t already pushed her over it at one point or another. She'd already gone over the edge more than once, heck, at this point the line had become so blurred she felt as though she were in constant danger of reverting. It was so easy just not to care....

Still, her descent probably would have come a lot sooner if she'd been as screwed over as B had been. Hell, she was surprised that Buffy hadn't let it break her.

Perhaps Buffy would have if she'd had to stay in that place any longer than those couple of weeks; being surrounded by the real crazies, doubting her own sanity….

Faith knew the Council would have found B eventually if that had been the case and they would have ordered her death just as surely as they'd ordered Faith's when she’d gone rogue.

When Slayers became broken, the Council didn't try to fix them, they just replaced them.

It was more...economical.

One of Faith's hands rhythmically kept balling into a fist as she thumbed through the pages, rereading over the information she'd already memorized, and trying to figure out why.

It wasn't as thoughFaith had possessed a great home life growing up.

She'd never really had anyone that she'd cared about for most of her life and the few people she'd let in had either screwed her over or died on her. It was weird that even with all the shit between them, Faith considered Buffy her only true piece of family.

Well, Buffy and Dawn.

Two years ago she'd have laughed at anyone who'd have told her she'd be a sister to the Summers duo and she'd have probably followed the laugh with something decidedly more violent.

Now...she wanted to kill whoever had fucked over Buffy. She wanted to find them and ask why the hell they'd ripped out her sister's heart with what looked like no reservations. She wanted to know why. She had to know why. And the need was driving her insane.

A soft knock broke her out of her reverie.

She had the files closed and hidden away even before the door swung open. Dawn's head peeked around the edge of the door, a troubled expression on her face.

At least Faith knew she wasn't the only one freaking out. Misery loved company and all that shit.

Dawn was probably worried about Kennedy being the one sent out with Buffy as much as Faith was, just one more thing to worry over. As if they didn't have enough.

And Faith supposed part of the worry gnawing away inside of her had to do with the fact that she wasn't the one going out with Buffy tonight. Kennedy was good, Faith knew she was better though. Plus, tonight was also the first time since Sunnydale that Faith wasn't accompanying the blonde for patrol. That she did not like at all given the severity what Buffy and Kennedy had been sent out to look for.

That and Faith just didn't like being benched.

Especially by Giles. What respect Faith had for the man had taken a hit when he'd planned on killing Spike behind all of their backs, Robin’s part she almost could have understood, but she still wondered over the reasons behind Giles ease in planning the murder of some one who Buffy had come to depend upon. There was also the part he'd taken in that little 'meeting' about Buffy's need for a break and while he hadn't been too bad over the last few months, this whole thing with Davis was throwing him back out of whack, and he was showing it by splitting up her and B.

Fuck, he was showing it by putting B on patrol with Kennedy.

It wasn't like Kennedy was all bad, Faith could give the girl her props, she knew how to fight and she did well when leading her own little team.

The problem lie in the fact that every ounce of brain Kennedy possessed seemed to go out the window whenever she was in the same room with Buffy.

Faith, Kennedy didn't like because she thought she wanted to screw her girlfriend-- though exactly where the younger Slayer had picked up that little paranoia Faith wasn't certain, and no amount of denying it was helping.

Buffy, on the other hand, Kennedy just didn't like. Every time Kennedy was with Buffy she tried to show off, to display just why she should be the Chosen One and not Buffy.

The idiot.

Buffy was already unstable enough, what with the picture she got spooked over and then with Army Boy showing up.

Buffy needed some one to guard her back, she didn’t need was to have to worry about some dumb ass trying to grand-stand, and that was exactly situation Giles had sent his Slayer into.

Faith knew he‘d seen how upset Buffy had been, he‘d seen it and just because Buffy hadn‘t been ready to share everything with him he‘d…acted like the worried Watcher he was, and been rebuffed when he found Buffy wasn't willing to share.

As punishment, he’d sent her on patrol with some one she didn’t like.

Giles probably hadn’t even realized what he was doing, it seemed like neither he nor Buffy realized any more when they hurt one another. Seemed it was always like they just inflicted new wounds on top of old ones.

Buffy had once told Faith that Giles was like a father to her and it was a widely known fact that family was always the one thing that could fuck a person up the most.


The Carters.

The mysterious Pike.

Paul Davis.

Seemed like Buffy had one hell of a closet full of skeletons.



Faith was still dying to know what it was the two of them had talked about when Buffy had walked him out earlier, Faith hadn't been able to listen in, all she had been able to do was stand at the window and peek around the curtain while pretending not to watch.

Whatever he'd said before he had left had caused Buffy had to cry. Sure there hadn't been any outwards signs that the casual observer would catch; lucky thing Faith wasn’t one. Buffy had barely walked back through the door when Faith had started taking stock of all those subtle little differences. The eyes that were just a little redder than when she slipped through the door a few minutes earlier, slight slopping of the shoulders, glassy expression reflected from those hazel eyes.

And then there was that card. Faith hadn’t even seen Davis hand one to Buffy, he must have done it when he’d briefly hugged Buffy before climbing back into his SUV.

She supposed her skills of observation were way sucking since she’d only caught a glimpse of it when Buffy had pocketed the card. Even more annoying was the fact that Faith couldn’t go and hunt him down in order to demand some answers.

Bastard was probably already almost back to Colorado by now because of that mysterious call he’d received not ten minutes after that little reunion with Buffy; a call that had forced him to cut the trip short whether or not he‘d been able to achieve his goal of recruitment.

Must have been some pretty heavy shit that had happened though since he’d just about shut down every visible emotion on his face while he’d been on the phone and the only animation in his features had been when he‘d had to tell Buffy good-bye.

Faith had been able to read those emotions clearly enough.

She just wished she hadn’t been able too, it was easier to hate the guy than to sympathize with him.

Davis and his relationship to Buffy seemed to be just one more enigma wrapped inside of a rapidly growing puzzle. As if the fricking mysteries surrounding Buffy needed to be any thicker.

Faith had stood with Buffy, watching as Davis had driven out of sight, and she’d seen that look on Buffy’s face. Buffy had wanted to talk.

Damn Giles.

Faith was pretty certain she'd have been able to get Buffy to talk if he hadn't wanted to have a little 'discussion' with Buffy before she went out.

What a load of crap that had been.

He'd wanted information, as if he'd had any right to it. As far as Faith was concerned any rights he had to anything about Buffy had gone out the window that night in Sunnydale. She and Dawn had made her peace with Buffy, none of the others had so far, and Faith wanted to hit them over their idiotic heads every time they looked at Buffy and expected something from her.

Especially when Buffy had stopped asking them for things. Faith wondered if any of the others had even realized it. She'd stopped turning to Giles for guidance, she'd stopped asking Willow for help in research, she'd even stopped asking Xander for backup. Oh, she'd let them when they pressed her about helping out, but she never asked, and when they did help her, Buffy remained quiet throughout.

They probably didn't even see the fact that she was drawing away from them, and Faith couldn't blame her.

Dawn moved forwards, edging her way towards Faith till she sat perched on the edge of the bed.

Meeting the worried blue eyes, Faith sighed. It‘d do no good if both of them never slept tonight. No matter how old Dawn seemed sometimes, she was still only a kid.

Hell, technically she was only five.

Mentally she was an adult,but emotionally…Faith saw a lot of the uncertain kid that Dawn still was, and it was moments like this that drove home that fact.

"She'll be fine," Faith said, ignoring the uncertainty that traced her words.

Dawn nodded, still remaining quiet. Sighing again, Faith pulled back the edge of her comforter and the teen moved silently into the space, slipping beneath the covers as Faith pulled them up around her neck. Faith reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from Dawn's face, and watched as she tried to fight away sleep.

In moments Dawn's breathing evened out and Faith just watched her, wondering just when she had gone from being a complete loner to having two sisters.

Two sisters whom she'd die to protect.

Settling against the headboard, Faith kept brushing her fingers through Dawn's hair, her eyes distant as she tried to figure out a way to protect her family.

Maybe Cleveland wasn't the best place. Some days it seemed like the three of them needed a new start, something removed from the supernatural. Something new. Something different. Something not filled with death, with lies, with so much baggage.

Faith never knew when she fell asleep, one hand falling to rest on Dawn's head as sleep stole over her.


Faith didn’t do diplomacy. She never did, never wanted to, never tried.

Diplomacy was just something she'd never needed. She'd never been exceptionally gifted with words and it had just been easier to leave the diplomacy to other people.

Diana, Giles, Buffy, Angel, Wes-- the list wasn’t really very long and looking back the only person she’d ever really taken orders from that hadn’t been on this supposed side of right was Wilkins.

Wilkins...she still thought of the Mayor at times, not often, just enough to make sure all the old wounds could never really heal.

A long time ago Diana, her first watcher, had told her that a Slayer's body was her greatest weapon; Faith had taken that to heart. After all, it had been an extension of something her mother had always told her, that a woman's body was her greatest asset. Same thing, just different points of view.

A lot of people had used her, she was used to it, it had been a lesson her mother had taught her, and while Faith had promised herself she’d never let people do to her what her mother had allowed, Faith had let them do other things; things that left more scars on her mind and soul than her body, some days she wasn’t certain which was better.

Faith had learned how to use her body when she was younger, she'd found ways to get what she wanted from with either strength or guile.

Diplomacy was over-rated. What use were treaties and negotiations in a world filled with darkness? Why bother when the only things to be dealt with were the things being hunted down?

She didn't make deals with the bad guys anymore-- those days were long gone. Besides, she didn't need fancy words or polite manners. She had her own very special brand of diplomacy, one perhaps not actually seen as being anything close to the real thing, yet worked just dandy for her.

Oh, she did the meet and greet.

It was just that her version generally meant that her fist was about to meet someone’s or something’s face and they were going to be greeted with a great deal of pain.

Fine. So she could admit she wasn’t that great on patience either, it just wasn’t quite her forte, and up until now, she'd never had a major problem with her lack of social graces.

Ultimately, given her lack of any people skills that didn't include the occasion bout of extreme violence, she was shocked as hell about the fact she for some reason could not get her body to obey her mind.

Normally they two worked perfectly together; suddenly discovering the fact they weren’t on speaking terms while being held by a couple of guys as another pushed his face into her little personal bubble was rapidly becoming annoying as hell.

As was trying to figure out why her ears and eyes weren’t exactly working right. Everything was kind of blurred, almost like she was more of a passenger than the driver.


She knew she wasn’t that old, it was supposed to be years before her body started giving out.

Sure, Slayers were supposed to live hard and die young, however, she didn't think this was exactly the norm for living past the age of twenty in a calling where only her and Buffy had surpassed the landmark age of twenty, a feat only a handful of Slayers had ever managed.

Still, Faith had to wonder as she tried to struggle whether not any of her predecessors had also been inflicted with an unexplained onset of old person.


Mentally screaming she tried to get her head to move forwards. What she wanted to do was let the guy’s chin become intimately acquainted with the back of his throat. What her body was doing was just…nothing.

She was just standing there surrounded by guys in funky clothing and Faith couldn’t help feeling like she was the under-dressed kid at some posh Halloween party.

Hello crappy childhood memories.

If anybody had told her she needed to wear something funky she’d have at least warn something a little better than, Faith looked down and her nose wrinkled, a black tee-shirt, BDU pants, and…Jimmy Choo?

The fact that she could recognize the make of her boots made her give a little shudder of disgust and, for the first time since she’d woken up in a room surrounded by strangers, she wondered just what the hell was going on.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind ignore the man standing in front of her, she ignored the tip of the knife against her throat as it traveled down, she ignored the worried gazes of the unfamiliar people she’d woken up beside, and she ignored the guys who were restraining her as she started to really try and look.


No reasons, no memories, no explanations as to how she’d gotten invited to this little fucked up party.

Opening her senses she ignored the muffled sound of the asshole’s voice and let the Slayer take a peek. Shit.

Until she’d actually dove in and started ‘looking’ she’d thought these guys were human. After all, they looked human, they smelled human, and they were certainly arrogant enough for the normal low level gang enforcer…looking deeper though, there was something deep inside of them, something that made them not quite right.

Explained why they were able to restrain her. She’d thought it had just been because of what ever they had hit her, it had to have been some serious shit since Faith still felt a little woozy from it. Now, however, she was starting to think that it went just a little father then that.

She should have gotten the clue when their grips had tightened and she'd actually felt their fingers digging in. Most humans couldn't do that, regular Joe Blow simply wasn’t strong enough to really register on a scale normally used to rate creatures with supernatural strength.

Great, not only did her body not want to work right, her brain had also seemed to go on strike. At least her Spidey senses weren’t letting her down…yet.

Keeping her eyes closed, she extended her awareness a little further, trying to cut through the fog that clung stubbornly to her mind, blanketing all of her usual senses, dulling them to the point where Faith felt removed from everything coloring her surroundings till it seemed more like a dream than anything else. Good thing she was equipped with Slayer senses, things were a pain in the ass what with the night owl syndrome they brought along. Of course, sometimes the pros evened out with the cons.

Huh, it wasn’t just the guys holding her still that were giving off the weird vibes.

Opening her eyes, Faith’s gaze locked onto one of the men still kneeling. She’d woken up almost right on top of him till the ass with the funky headdress had pulled her up and she hadn’t felt anything funny then. She was now though. She had to give him some props, he was better at hiding it, what ever was dulling her senses hadn’t picked up on him till the very last, and even then he seemed…different.

There was still a sense of otherness around him. Just like the others there seemed to be something that blurred their humanity, almost like a taint of some kind.

Tall and dark looked how Faith was feeling and looked pretty drugged up still. The other people in their little party were seemed to be more coherent now, Faith figured that the bad guys had hit him with what ever they had hit her with since the others out of her party were able to actually talk. Faith couldn't understand what the older guy was saying. What she could understand though was the way the main baddie's mouth firmed into a frown at his words and Faith felt her body flinch as one of the guards cuffed him on the back of his head. That looked like it hurt like hell.

Geez it’d be great to know what the hell was going on.

She wasn’t used to waking up and not knowing what had happened to her, she’d even gotten pretty good at the whole stability thing over the past few years.

Let's see, last thing she remembered was…Buffy?

An argument between B and Giles and then…it was foggy.

Thing was, Faith was supposed to be with Buffy wasn’t she? She was supposed to be out on patrol and the group of strangers surrounding her sure as hell did not include the blonde.

Wait. Giles. The fight…no, it hadn’t been a fight, it’d been probably the most civilized ‘discussion’ that Faith had even witnessed.

There’d been no raised voices, no large expressive movements that conveyed any anger. What there had been plenty of was a current between the two as though there had been so much more being said silently than being spoken aloud.

Giles had benched Faith.

That fucker.

She was supposed to have gone out on patrol and he’d stopped her, sent Kennedy out with Buffy instead, citing Faith’s injured shoulder as a reason even though it barley ached. Buffy and Faith had known it was a crock.

Faith could recall Buffy’s placid expression as she’d marched out of the room, yelling for the newbie while Faith had given Giles a disgusted look and stormed out before she displayed her displeasure over his asinine actions since military boy had shown up.

Faith remembered dragging herself into her bed, Dawn had come in and fallen asleep while they waited for Buffy to return to the mansion…and then she’d woken up in a scratchy pair of pants with no memory of how she’d gotten there.


No wonder everything seemed like a dream. Fucking Slayer dreams.

Well, that at least explained a little. Like why she had no idea what the hell was going on.
It seemed standard operational procedure for these things to be as confusing as possible, this one was a first though.

Supposedly Faith should have been able to at least see and hear normally, the whole muffled disjointed feeling was different from the descriptions she’d ever been given and were highly unappreciated.

Faith’s attention snapped back to what was going on around her and again wanted to drive her head forwards and knock that smirk off of the bastard’s face only to again find out she couldn’t.

Damn it.

Her eyes searched around, picking up the little details around her. The odd symbol on the other captives uniforms, some kind of circle with a triangle in it. There was the older guy who was straining at the hands holding him now, the younger geeky guy beside him who was rapidly speaking in what sounded like utter nonsense especially when indistinct, the blonde woman who stared at her with something like horror as she watched the head ass-hole slowly cut open the top of Faith’s shirt, the big guy who was coming around and another guard had taken hold of him in order to keep him still…the big guy, who the hell tattooed their forehead?

The dark man moved slightly, jerking back just enough that Faith could see there was another person beside him and Faith would have let her jaw open in surprise if she could have. Oz? What the hell? Purple hair? Huh, she had to admit that it kinda matched his complexion.

Hell. This dream was getting weirder by the moment.

Damn prophetic dreams.

Faith’s eyes snapped back to the guy in front of her, something had changed. He’d stopped talking, the knife blade had stopped moving.

Faith looked into his eyes and she read everything he was probably planning; it wasn’t pretty.

Before her brain had caught up, her body drove forwards and she felt pain blaze through her shoulder as she plunged forwards onto the knife, her blood gushing as she ripped away, taking the knife embedded there with her, and all the while her mind was screaming ‘What the fuck?’ at the highest level available.

The guy in front of her blinked and the guards were thrown off enough she struggled out of the grasp as she dove forwards once again. She’d barely taken a step before something hit her back and pain rippled through her entire body setting every nerve afire. Another blast hit her and she fell.

She hit the ground and everything began to grow more indistinct, Faith struggled to move, to speak, to do anything, and found herself unable too. She was trapped inside of her own body; been there, done that, already woken from one coma and wasn't looking forwards to another.

Her gaze locked onto the floor and Faith struggled to figure out what was going on. Her eyes latched onto the floor, trying to take in the details as she tried to bring the world back to her, and then her mind recoiled in horror as she saw the eyes reflected back off of the mirror like surface.

Hazel eyes stared at her, blond hair replacing the brunette locks she knew were supposed to be there, and Faith stared even after the blood from her wound had spread out around her, erasing the image from her sight. Faith felt a wail of loss built up within her…


And woke with it on the verge of tumbling from her lips. Chilled sweat had broken out, the small droplets lining her brow, and she tugged fitfully at her tank-top as the thin cotton material felt as though it had glued to her skin.

Goose-bumps broke out along her body as she became aware of the cold air from the vents as it hit her sweat soaked skin. Sitting up she struggled to calm her breathing and recall the dim details of her dream.

Well, almost all of the details.

She was trying hard to forget Buffy’s sightless eyes and she was pretty certain the memory of it was going to haunt her for a while.

Damn dreams.

Well, that had been a bit of a mind bender and certainly a first, she’d never had a Slayer dream from someone else’s point of view before. Or at all.

She didn’t like it. At all. Talk about disorienting. And freaky. And…a lot of fucking things, most of which she wasn’t looking forwards to actually examining.

Faith ran a trembling hand through her hair, nearly stopping breathing when she remembered she wasn’t alone.

Straightening up, memories drifted back to her and she glanced down at the sleeping girl sprawled beside her.

She's be damned if she let anyone take Buffy away, Faith had only just found her family, she wasn't going to let some ass in a funky costume take a part of it away from her.

Absently she started rubbing at her side, almost thankful for the slight ache that had bloomed there. It was something to concentrate, something to focus on, something that she could latch onto and try to gather her confused thoughts...even if she wasn't exactly certain why the ache had started in the first place.

Never look a gift horse in the mouth. That was her motto. Okay, kill and then ask questions was more of her motto, but she was adaptable.

A slight grunt escaped from her as she slipped out of bed, the quick movement causing the pain in her side to momentarily twinge. Great, first her shoulder now her side. Old age sucked even at twenty-five. How the hell did Giles cope?

Shrugging off the pain, she grabbed her pants from the floor slipping them on as she continued making her way towards the door to her bedroom, and paused momentarily before she opened the door.

There was something...odd.

A ragged laugh escaped her at the thought and she stifled a giggle, so what if it felt slightly hysterical, when Dawn snorted in her sleep.

Damn, everything was frickin' odd right now and that was saying something when her normal world included things like vampires, ghouls, zombies, and demons.

Slayer dream aside, the feeling of discomfort was probably from all this damned unresolved crap that was floating around. Maybe she was getting an ulcer. Wait, could Slayer's even get ulcers?

At least she could get an answer about that.


Everything had become so much more confusing since those files had surfaced. Faith was pretty certain her and little D would have figured out something if Army Boy hadn't shown up bringing even more baggage into the light. And then there was the thing going on between Giles and Buffy. Damn, like it was Buffy's fault that there were gaps in the information he'd originally been given about her life pre-Slayer....

Her life pre-Slayer. Faith wondered briefly if Giles knew about the Carters and ruthlessly squashed the fledgling thought before it could develop.

She didn't need any more suppositions and conspiracy theories running around inside her head. It was full enough.

Quietly, she opened the door, silently padding her way down the hallway and through the main rooms working her way towards the kitchen.

Slayer dreams. Just another thing that she really did not need right now. Not with all the crap going on around her.

Faith didn't have Slayer dreams. She’d never before had the dubious pleasure and could admit she'd been totally peachy with the fact.

Even after all these years she'd never had to deal with the damned things and she'd figured she never would have too. Some Slayers, she'd been told a long time ago, never had too. Diana, of course, had followed the statement with the explanation that these Slayers never lived long enough to have one.

That was not the case with Faith. Not since she was what one would call a mature Slayer.

This wasn't to say that Faith acted with propriety, no matter how much Buffy and Dawn tried to house break her, or that she displayed a type of manner that was beyond her years.


Faith took pride in the fact that her attitude could put most fifteen year old boys to complete shame in the degree of perversion and gutter mindedness that her mind tended to exist within.

A mature Slayer was something of a rarity, it was something that happened perhaps one in every thirteen times a Chosen One was Called; it was a Slayer who survived the first two years of Slaying.

Faith had survived nearly seven with all the powers gifted to the Slayer, lacking only one; the dreams.

And now she'd had her first. Damn.

Diana had outlined just what Slayer dreams were a long time ago, it had been one of those late night talks that her Watcher had subjected her too centered solely on the possible future that lay before her. The dreams were either past Slayer memories, traumatic events imprinted upon the power of the Slayer at the time of it's passing from one Slayer to another, or else they were harbingers of what could be if the Slayer failed.

Basic doom and gloom stuff either way.

Faith, despite appearances at the time, hadn't been an idiot. Even at the tender age of twelve she had been around enough to know that the dreams were either omens of deaths from years ago or else deaths that were just waiting to happen.

This one certainly at least followed the trend...only...she'd never heard of a Slayer having a dream about another unless it was one of their predecessors' deaths.


No. This one was entirely prophetic. She knew how B had died before and this had come no where close to either of those times.

Grat. All Faith had to do now was to try to figure out how to stop it from coming true.

Shit. She wanted was a beer. Sad to say she'd have to settle for was glass of milk. Stupid mini-Slayers and the stupid necessity to set a good example, Faith could almost even hear Buffy as the thought ran through her head; a smirk crossed her lips.

Faith had been alone a long time and she’d never really had a family till now. Come to think of it, it didn’t seem like Buffy had either. As close as B had once been to the Scoobies, the only people who seemed to be really close to Buffy anymore was Faith and Dawn…and Davis.

Damn, Faith wished she knew more of the story there.

Guy seemed to genuinely care about B, even Faith could see that, and it was the only reason that she hadn't taken her frustrations out on him yet. Which she was so totally justified in doing since, after all, he had initially lied to them about who he was and who he was working for.

Huh, maybe not lied exactly. It was more like he'd distorted the truth, Faith remembered Riley and Buffy had filled her in on all the details about what had happened with him. Riley had been pretty good at hiding things too, must be something the military taught in boot camp. Or maybe it was just a requirement for working in the private sector.

Faith stopped just inside of the kitchen doorway, leaning against the finished frame for a moment, allowing her thoughts to just drift.

Despite the fact that she was pretty damned certain she'd had a Slayer dream, she still really didn't want to dwell on it.

Buffy was her family, she was her sister in more ways than one even if not by blood, losing Buffy would be...bad.

Very, very bad.

Faith knew she wasn't the most stable of people and losing the blonde....

Bad. Very, very, very bad.

Not that Faith didn’t have complete…faith in Buffy. Girl had more lives than a cat.

And it wasn’t like Buffy hadn’t defeated death before.


Hell, Faith had never thought she'd live past her first year of being called. She'd thought death would come swiftly for her; she'd been a screw-up as a child, only gifted in wheeling and dealing, and she'd figured that her version of street fighting wouldn't fare too well against something over three times her size and able to bench press a Chrysler.

Diana had been sure to tell her, repeatedly, that all she needed to do was train, that should Faith ever be called she'd be imbued with this magical strength and abilities that would enable her to great things.

Faith had thought the older woman was insane. Just some loony who still believed in fairytales and monsters. She’d kept believing that right up until she had meet her first demon. After that fiasco, Faith had realized that even with supernatural strength, she didn't think she'd survive long.

Faith still wasn’t certain who was surprised more, herself or Diana when she had been Called.

That night had also been the only time that Faith remembered Diana having ever hugged her.

A part of her wondered if they'd have grown closer had Kakistos never found her. Even now, all these years later, Faith could still see the terror and pain on Diana's face as Kakistos tortured her slowly. The master vampire had been just toying with Faith, he promised to either kill her or make her one of his children. It had been Diana’s death that had made her snap. She didn’t even remember breaking free or fighting Kakistos. She didn’t remember anything but running away.

She'd ran and ran until she’d ended up in Sunnydale.

God. How stupid she'd been. She run straight to the only people she'd known who could help her and then she'd lied to them, afraid they'd turn her away, afraid they'd hate her for allowing Diana to be killed, for not being strong enough to slay the creature who'd taken her Watcher from her.

And they’d still helped her.

In the end she'd betrayed them because she couldn't handle it all; Diana had never told her how hard it was to control the power, to not give into the darkness that always seemed to beckon.

She'd imagined herself alone, she'd betrayed them without hesitation enough to stop.

She'd even begun to hate Buffy. Hated to prodigal child, the Slayer who had cheated death, the Slayer who had a family and friends, the Slayer who was so perfect that Faith had known she could never compare.

Damn. Faith wished she'd have known just how wrong she was back then, things would have been so different.

Pushing away from the doorway she walked into the kitchen still absently rubbing the lower half of her left side, trying to ease the dull pain throbbing there.

If wishes were money or, in the case of a Slayer, something pointy....

Well, Faith knew now and it only made her feel like more shit for her past actions.

Damn Slayer dream, she was pretty certain that sleep wasn't going to be in the cards anytime soon, not with the image of Buffy dead blazed into her brain and the stitch from hell in her side.

Something was changing. Something...Faith wasn't certain if she liked it or not. Change was coming. Question was would this change led to Buffy's death? Faith would be damned if some one else she loved would be taken away from her and she'd be doubly damned if she let any one hurt her sister.

Sighing she flipped on the light switch and placed her hand on the counter, feeling something stick to her fingers she frowned and looked down.

For a moment what she was seeing didn't quite click in her mind and once it did she ran out of the room leaving the kitchen empty but for the bloody handprint in which her fingerprints were still visible.


Author's Notes: Yay! A new chapter, I know this was way Faith centric, but...she had a little part and then while I was writing the chapter it just kind of ran away from me. The next chapter will see the others and answer a few more questions while bringing to light a whole slew of new problems.

Hope you liked it. Let me know? :)
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