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Breaking the Ice

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Summary: Whose bright idea was it to send Faith to broker an alliance with the Master of St. Louis?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Anita Blake > Faith-CenteredBrifFR1513,2342123,53110 Apr 0710 Apr 07Yes
Disclaimer: Don't own Anita Blake or Buffy and co. Laurell K Hamilton and Joss Whedon own them and the rights to everything about them, respectively. Aside from that, let's get going! Reviews are appreciated.


Faith fuckin’ hated her life. Mistreated child to neglected teenager to escaped convict. It all kind of left a girl wanting. So Faith had finally become halfway contented when she suddenly found herself as one of the ruling members of the Council. Yeah. Faith. Ruling Member. So what was the worst that could go wrong, yeah? She had money, fame (the newbies practically offered their souls for a little of her time), and youth on her side. So it was obvious that something had to go wrong. Still unsure of how she’d come to this point, Faith found herself waiting for transportation that she would willingly use to go to a circus that was fondly called Damned.

What. The. Fuck.

Alright, perhaps Faith was being a little too pessimistic. Logistically, nothing had gone wrong yet, but what could not? Faith had read the files on the St. Louis preternatural (What was wrong with supernatural?) community that the council had gathered. Anita Blake, vampire executioner; This chick was batshit insane. She was not a slayer and yet she had killed more vampires than many of the newbs. Not to mention, this was after vamps stopped dusting. They were damn hard to kill, these days. Anita Blake was also the human servant of the Master of the City, a pragmatic and mysterious vampire known as Jean-Claude. From what the council had gathered, she had a cadre of associates, many of who were on a more intimate level with Ms. Blake. Faith wanted to know why this Blake chick got the pretty boy vampires and lycanthropes while she got Andrew. Andrew in full-body pajamas banging on her door in the middle of the night because he had a dream that Captain Kirk slept with Seven of Nine before he did—Whatever that meant.

Faith had also read up on the numerous shifter groups and what vampire intel the council was able to attain. Apparently the shifters had formed an alliance between themselves as well as the vampires of the city. This was dually a rarity and a concern for the council. Of all the shifter groups, the Thronnos Rokke Clan seemed the most unstable of the flavors. She had come with orders to memorize and detail weaknesses in the Master of St. Louis’ domain. While she was coming to cement an amicable relationship between them and the Council, the Council still found it best to search for any chinks in their prospective ally’s armor. Just in case.

Faith sighed as she waited at the airport. To compound her luck in life, her plane had arrived a full hour early. The one time the air transportation system works and she is left waiting in an airport crazier than any she’d had the displeasure of having been in before. There was a man in a wrinkled pastor’s outfit proselytizing to a gaggle of downtrodden hillbillies, many of which had smaller (and dirtier) children who had resorted to picking and itching parts of their country bumpkin bodies that Faith would rather not ponder. To make matters worse, a group of drunken frat boys seemed to be slowly gravitating towards her (the only woman below forty in the room). Faith sighed.

Just as the closest frat boy began to half-speak and half-belch out a lame pick up line, a man appeared from seemingly out of no where.

“hhey shweet cheeksh—“ The frat boy started.

“Faith Lehane?” Faith’s savior interrupted. Faith graced her new favorite person with a beautiful smile and hurriedly walked up to him, leaving the drunken frat boy to brood over what went wrong.

“Yes, that’s me yeah, definitely me.” She rambled; the airport had really done a number on her. The man who saved her from frat boy hell was cute. About B’s size, and with the same blonde hair, his eyes were a pretty cornflower blue. He grinned at her like he’d been in her pants already, or assumed he would. However, Faith got the feeling that that was his defense mechanism. He didn’t seem skeezy enough to be a true pervert. He held a hand out in front of himself and said in a voice just as flirtatious as his grin, though much more cliché

“Schuyler. Jason Schuyler.” Faith rolled her eyes.

“Let’s just get me where I need to go first, Double-Oh-Tiny.” Faith retorted, much to Jason’s obvious chagrin. He began to lead her out towards the very nice car he had come in when he stopped. He perked up in a very dog-like manner and turned towards her.

“First?” He said in a questioning and yet ever flirtatious voice. Faith just grinned and winked, making Jason brighten visibly. They walked the rest of the way in a companionable silence, Jason swaggering ahead, leaving her to carry her own things. This told Faith two things. One, Jason was aware of what she was. And two, he was good at reading people. So Horndog was smart, point for him.

They got into the rolls royce (Way fancy. This Jean-Claude had taste.) and took off towards this Damned (Their wording, not Faith’s) Circus. The drive was nice enough, St. Louis wasn’t as crummy as she thought it’d be. The arch thing was kind of neat. They passed through the blood district, and that definitely piqued Faith’s interests. There seemed to be a plethora (She needed to stop reading Giles’ books when she got bored) of clubs and shadier establishments made just for her. Wicked. They drove into a back parking lot for the circus and they got out, though Faith’s suitcases remained in the car. Jason used a set of keys to get into a large door (There may have well as been a mote, the door was so big) and they began descending a stone stairway. Faith couldn’t help but compare this to her descent into the Sunnydale Hellmouth. She shivered and Horndog noticed, but seemed to know it wasn’t from the temperature. Perceptive. Faith decided she’d have to watch out for him, and hoped that there weren’t many others that had the eye that he did. She didn’t like having her weaknesses broadcast for all to see.

They walked into a waiting room that looked as if mimes had been sacrificed to some terrible monochromatic deity.

“How dramatic.” She said loudly as she looked about the room. There was a lot of curtains, and even more silk.

“It is indeed dramatic, mademoiselle.” A voice from in front of Faith startled her out of her color-induced stupor. Before her stood a small group of people. The front two were obviously vampires. Light and dark, they contrasted nicely, though Faith had a feeling they came from the same mold. In between them stood a short woman, shorter-than-Buffy short. She had long dark hair that curled just so. Anita Blake. The dark haired vampire beside her had to be Jean-Claude then. Behind those three were a smattering of individuals, some seemed to be guards, and some more than that. One individual caught Faith’s eye—He was tall and very muscular with brown hair that looked like it was the softest thing in the world. He did not look happy. In fact, if Faith had been standing in front of him, she would have been checking her back for daggers. From his looks and his disposition, Faith figured he was Richard Zeeman. Closeted werewolf king extraordinaire—The council spy network rocked the shit out of everything. Anita Blake had a look on her face that Faith recognized often. It was a sort of ‘This is it?’ look, or ‘That’s her?’.

The awkward moment ended and Jean-Claude invited her to be seated. His group followed in his wake as he sat. Before any more formal niceties could occur, Short-n-Deadly spoke up.

“Why exactly are you here? What does the Watchers Council want, and more importantly, why should we even consider accommodating them?” Faith blinked. The St. Louis group held their breath, but Anita Blake just looked annoyed. Annoyed and smug. Faith wondered what Blake had read to start things off with such a bad ‘tude. Well, if Anita wanted to throw down, Faith could fucking throw down. They didn’t call her the Dark Slayer because of all the black leather she wore.

“Listen Spunky, I’m just here to make sure the world get puts into perspective for you. You’re not the big kid, but because you aren’t the bully, we feel like we could offer at least some sort of olive branch that could benefit both of our organizations in the future.” Faith thought that was damned diplomatic of her, but she could still almost hear Giles’ ‘Oh dear lord.’ Anita Blake looked like Faith had just pissed all over her favorite pair of shoes. The tension level in the room rose, and Faith wondered if she was going to have to hit Willow’s panic button in the shape of an amulet she wore around her neck. Jean-Claude, Anita, and Richard Zeeman seemed to be having some sort of internal argument with each other. Suddenly, a cold and dead presence lashed out against Faith, pressing her in on all sides as it tried to glean everything it could from her. Behind that cold dead thing pushed a thriving energy that was wild and tempestuous—Like a wolf. With the Wild Wolf stood Vampire, sinfully sweet, and just as addictive. Faith’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t want to do this.” Faith said to Anita Blake. The Executioner smiled grimly and called Faith’s bluff. Too bad it wasn’t a bluff. You see, when vampires stopped dusting and began to show characteristics of having a soul or something of the sort, and their powers began increasing, slayers also changed. It seemed that everything in the world got more magical. Willow could barely breathe without worrying that she was going to accidentally snuff someone out magically. As these changes came, the Council invoked a strict policy of secrecy—No one would know the extent of the Slayer save for the Council. There were however, certain times when a show was necessary. Faith liked these times.

With a mental shove, Faith lowered her perfectly enforced mental shielding (Thank you, Willow) and sneered as she felt her inner-ragamuffin (Buffy’s word for the muddy slayer visage, not hers) spread out. It touched the vampires in the room first, and they recoiled as it buffeted them. The lycanthropes were next as the freezing cold of the slayer blanketed their hot energies in frost. One by one they fell to their knees until only Jean-Claude and his triumvirate were left standing. Anita Blake seemed to be holding the other two up. Bitch had skills. The wererats, werehyenas, and werelions began to shift under the power, though Anita’s triumvirate soothed the wereleopards and werewolves. Faith was assured of her victory until Anita struck back at her. The power had Faith reeling, and she nearly collapsed to her knees. The power had so many flavors, Faith couldn’t make out one from the other. She knew there was definitely Vampire and Lycanthrope mixed in with Necromancy, but there were so many flavors of lycanthrope, it was nearly overwhelming.

“Bitch.” Faith grit out. Anita seemed to snarl at her, but she was taking a beating just as Faith was. Faith searched herself for something more. Since the change in the world, Willow had been teaching all of the slayers more magic and meditation, usually Faith was not one for such things, but the new powers rising in the world—They frightened her, though she would never say it aloud. As Faith searched herself for anything to use against one of the most powerful things she’d ever come up against, she remembered something Willow had said during one particular meditation session.

“Faith,” Willow said, her white hair blowing in nonexistent wind. “Every person has a connection to the Earth, many people only ever focus on their own powers, how powerful they are—But even the weakest person can triumph when beseeching the Earth for Her powers.

Faith rolled her eyes and put her hands down on the ground.

“Oh mighty Earthmother, I beseech you, grant me enlightenment so that I may stop meditating for hours and hours a day. Also, money might be good too.” Willow rolled her eyes at Faith and moved on to the next concept, in the small hope that Faith would glean something from –this- one.


Back at the time, Faith had thought it nothing more than Willow-drivel, all yay nature boo progress of man type thing, but Faith needed something, and so she decided to give it ye olde try. She purposely fell to her knees and placed both hands upon the ground. Please, Earth, Nature, Willow’s Goddess, give me something—Anything.

It was as if a door had opened inside of her and for the first time, Faith could feel. She felt a connection to all slayers everywhere, she felt Kennedy sleeping next to a beaming Willow, Kennedy rubbed her arms as she felt some familiar presence, but Willow simply smiled and said aloud

“Huh, she was actually listening.” And Faith was gone. She was Vi, gracefully slaying a rogue European Master Vampire as her team cleaned up after her. She was Rona as she faltered while fighting a lesser demon in the streets of New York. Faith reached out to her, and Rona felt her comforting presence, and hurled herself back onto the demon, killing it easily. Finally, Faith touched upon Buffy and knew immediately that Buffy saw through her eyes as much as she saw through Buffy’s.

“Should I be calling Giles, sister-mine?” Buffy said, worry lacing her tone. As always, Faith was touched and grateful that things had so healed between her and Buffy.

“I’m grateful too.” Buffy said, apparently you could read minds in this vision-quest-thing.

“I’m cool B, there’s just a bitch that needs putting down.” Buffy grinned


During Faith’s little heart to heart with Buffy, Anita seemed to have realized something was going down, because her focus seemed to intensify and before Faith knew it, lust was shattering her, something dark and sensual was violating her and she loved it. Whatever it was seemed to be affecting Buffy as well, because she had fallen to the floor panting.

“Hate you so much.” Buffy half-whined half-moaned. If Buffy was in the room with her, Faith was sure they would have done something highly inappropriate, and highly hot.

“Bitch.” Buffy pouted at Faith’s thought.


Buffy seemed to have an idea and crawled weakly towards the weapon cabinet in her room. She opened the door and touched the scythe. As soon as Buffy touched the scythe, Faith could think more clearly. She focused on the scythe and it seemed to evaporate into the air, vanishing from Buffy’s grasp. Moments later it swirled into existence before Faith. She grabbed it and used its power to slam against Anita Blake.

The two women screamed in pain as the energy in the room doubled. The triumvirate fell to their knees and joined Faith upon the ground while a feverish and lustful Buffy could only watch, her lips parted ever so slightly. The power seemed to snap and smacked both Anita and Faith, sending them flying into opposite walls. As reality swirled and tilted in front of Faith’s eyes, she distantly saw Andrew come barging into Buffy’s room because of the commotion. He went to help her up and as soon as he touched her, the sexual energy jumped to him. As Faith slid into unconsciousness, she couldn’t help but grin at the high pitched girlish scream and what was without a doubt the sound of tearing clothes.


~~~~~~~

Faith awoke with a start. She was in a large king size bed in a windowless room she did not recognize. The last thing she remembered was the mental visual of Buffy tearing into Andrew in a way that no one should ever tear into Andrew. Faith couldn’t help it, she laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. B was never going to live this one down.

“And Sleeping Beauty awakes.” Standing at the now open door was good ol’ blue-eyed Horndog.

“Jason, right?” Faith asked. He made a pouty face and put a hand to his chest.

“You forgot my name?” Jason sniffled. He seemed to regain his composure and a serious look crossed his face.

“Jean-Claude wants to see you.” Faith suddenly found herself in a state of exhaustion, she so did not want to mind-battle again. What happened to good old fashioned physical smack downs, she wondered. Jason helped her to her feet and with his help she began to limp her way to Jean-Claude’s office.

“How long was I out?” Faith asked the werewolf.

“A full day, I’m surprised you woke up this early. But then again, I shouldn’t be really. Anita woke up just as early.” He seemed to be half amused and half wistful, the boy was complicated. They walked in silence until they reached their destination. Jason made no move to enter, but motioned that Faith should. She hesitantly took a step forward and opened the door. She entered the room, closing the door behind her as silently as she could; which, in the completely silent room, was not very.

“Mademoiselle Faith,” Jean-Claude greeted. He seemed wary but excited, if Faith could read his blank face correctly, as if the Boogeyman had just offered him a life supply of free money.

“Yo.” Faith replied. Monosyllabic had its moments.

“I believe we have started off on the wrong foot…” Jean-Claude began.

The meeting between herself and the vampire lasted two hours. Deals and agreements were made, and Faith was asked to stay another week. Much unlike the first day, the week went off without a problem and Faith found many of the St. Louis gang to be pleasant if not amazingly cool. Horndog had some moves on him, she had to admit. While most of the tension was gone, Faith still couldn’t sit down and talk with Anita Blake for more than a very stressful moment. Though they did hold a somewhat civil discussion over the properties of the scythe. Nathaniel, one of Anita’s boyfriends and wereleopards remarked that it was because they were so much alike.

Both Anita and Faith disagreed fervently.

Faith left St. Louis that Sunday on the private Scooby Jet (Why she hadn’t been able to use this prior, she didn’t know) with promises to return personally in another few months. She returned to Cleveland a whole lot happier, and plus one blue-eyed werewolf’s phone number. When the gang met Faith at her gate in the airport, Faith discovered that Andrew still wasn’t walking right. Buffy hastily took back the scythe before gripping it in a way that reminded Faith of when B would cuddle Mr. Gordo after a stressful night. Faith took one look at Buffy and Andrew, and couldn’t help herself. She grinned at Buffy.

“At least it wasn’t Giles.” It was between the “Oh dear lord” and the funny choking noise Buffy made that Faith came to the conclusion that there were much worse lives out there to lead.

After all, some people ended up having sex with Andrew.

The End

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