The lighter flared , casting an orange glow on the girl's weary face. She lifted the smoke to her lips as she regarded the aged face before her. "You. Should've known it would be you."

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She shrugged.

One of the wardens walked past the man, to her side. The warden unlocked the cuffs securing her to the table. The man across from her hefted her book bag off the floor. Possessions she hadn't seen in nearly three years. She finished her cigarette, still sitting there, even though she was no longer restrained.

"She's really gone?"

The man regarded her. The question brought anguish to his heart and the first reaction he had was blind, violent rage. But then her tone hit him. She was truly sorry over the death of the slayer.

He nodded, swallowing thickly. "We've arranged for you to have a place to stay here. The accommodations are a little unorthodox, but they'll meet our needs. You will have support and privacy. Something I assume you've been missing."

She nodded. "Nice of you." She put out her smoke, but continued to sit, staring into his eyes. "I guess it's time to see if it's been worth shot."

"What's that?"

"I thought you'd know exactly what I meant." She cocked her head to the side as she stood. She walked past him and gave him a smile. "I'm talking about redemption." She turned and faced him. "Ripper."

The man sighed heavily. He took her be the elbow and led her toward the exit. Internally, doubts raged through him. Would Buffy think he was doing the right thing? Was this going to work? But with the word `Ripper' he was reminded that sometimes redemption was possible. And maybe that was her subtle way of reminding him why he was doing this.

He looked back up at her. Her lower lip was trembling. Her hands were shaking. She was scared, even if she was trying to hide it. He couldn't remember ever seeing her like this."Are you quite alright?"

A ghost of a smile played at her lips as she stepped into the sunshine. "Five by five."

The car slid smoothly to a stop in front of the imposing structure. Faith undid her seatbelt and opened the car door. She looked up at the towering building and then at the older man at her side. "I'm staying here?"

He nodded his assent and she pulled her bag from the car and ascended the stairs to her new home. She entered the grand foyer and whistled low. "Swanky." She eyed the former Watcher. "Didn't think you could afford a something like this."

"I can't." Giles said, gesturing for her to move forward. Her footfalls were obscenely loud on the cool, marble tile floor, reverberating in the stillness.

Faith walked to the counter and set her bag down with a thunk, she observed that there was no bell. No bellmen or porters either. She turned to look at Giles. "You'd think a place this pricey would have better service."

A young black man came down the stairs, he had headphones over his ears and a battle ax in his hands. He stopped when he saw the two of them, lowering the ax to his side. A grin broke over his handsome face as he dropped the phones to his neck. "You got to be Faith."

Faith raised her chin slightly. "Yeah, and who are you?"

"Name's Gunn." He shortened the distance between them and held out his hand. She shook it firmly. "You a Slayer?"

"I was." Faith said quietly. "That's a wicked lookin' ax you got there."

"Some people carry a briefcase to work, I carry this."

"Yeah, I know what that's like." She liked the young man, he didn't put on any airs.

Giles cleared his throat. "Nice to see you again, Gunn."

"Same here, G-note. You stayin' around or heading back to the `dale?"

"I'm afraid I must leave, I have some things to attend to."

Faith looked at the former Watcher, her lips quivering a little. "You have to go?"

"No, Giles is welcome here." Cordelia came from the back office, standing in the doorway with her arms across her chest. Her tone implied that Faith was not.

"Cordelia. You live here too?" Faith had gotten used to ignoring jibes.

"No, I work here." She looked to Giles and her tone softened the slightest bit. "And now you do, too."

Gunn looked at Cordelia who moved to stand beside the Watcher, he'd make sure to get some more information out of her later about the dark haired Slayer. There was definitely a story here. "Hey, English. Get out here!"

Wesley also emerged from the office, he froze when he saw Faith. He'd been dreading this moment.

"Wesley." Faith breathed, she lowered her head. She didn't know if she could face him.

"Faith." He acknowledged as he moved into the room.

Cordelia put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Wesley, will you give me a ride home?" Cordelia lifted her brows in an effort to convey that she was giving him a means to put this confrontation off at least until tomorrow.

"Certainly." They left without saying goodbye to Faith. She studied the tips of her boots. After a moment she took a deep breath and looked up with a calm face, as if nothing had occurred.

Giles said softly, "Let me show you to your new rooms." She nodded, waved to Gunn and followed Giles to the stairs.

The suite was separated into five parts. The doors opened into a red sitting room. The ceilings stretched up to fifteen feet. The back wall held a large picture window complete with a nook. The nook was crowded with overstuffed pillows and throw blankets. There was a large-screen T.V., a D.V.D. player and a sound system. There was a large couch, three beanbag chairs, and several floor lamps. There was a kitchenette, complete with it's own half bathroom, off to the side, and a hallway leading to the bedroom.

Faith walked in and gasped. The room was the most beautiful she had ever seen, better than the apartment the mayor had given her. The walls were a deep blue, there was another picture window, a smaller version of the first. It held two black floor cushions and a blue and black chenille blanket. There was a wide fireplace, with a hearth set on it, complete with a tea set. Next to the fireplace, were two overstuffed wing-backed chairs. A blanket and throw pillow adorned each. All of the furniture in the room was made of a mahogany so dark it was almost black. The upholstery was a deep blue velvet. Any metal in the room was a highly polished silver. There was a large vanity, and a walk-in closet. On top of the vanity was a silver brush, mirror, and comb set. The vanity's drawer was filled with make-up. There was an empty silver frame. Two doors led off of the room.

Walking through the first, she discovered a large bathroom. There was an in-set tub, big enough to be a whirlpool. Looking closer, she saw jets. It was a whirlpool. There was also a separate shower in the corner, double sinks, with storage space under them. Opening one of the drawers underneath the sink counter, she found a toothbrush, toothpaste, scented face soap, moisturizer, body lotion, deodorant, and a bottle of perfume. It was wrapped in a gauzy blue-gold fabric. She opened the cap and inhaled deeply. It smelled heavenly. She smiled enigmatically as she glimpsed the name. Ghost myst. She noticed a large stack of thick towels, and shag bath mat. Somebody had been well prepared for her arrival.

She walked back into the bedroom and through the other door. In here was a personal office for her. There was a large mahogany desk, with a computer. The desk was as fully stocked as her bathroom. There was a book collection large enough to be called a library. There was also a video collection. Several comfortable chairs, each with a lamp and side table were scattered throughout the room, but in the corner was a chair she knew had been specifically picked out for her. It was a circle chair and there was a wrapped package on it. The present was wrapped in blue paper, tied with silver ribbon. With quaking fingers, she opened it as Giles watched on. It was a black leather diary. A large silver ballpoint pen was also included.

"Angel."

Giles nodded. "I should be going. It's getting late and you should rest."

"I'm not tired."

"No, I imagine not." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "But Angel will be up and about soon. And I imagine the two of you will have a lot to talk about. I just thought that you might want some time to freshen up and um, collect yourself." He tilted her chin up to look in her eyes. "You are ready for this, Faith. Soon, the Watcher's Council will want you back on active duty. It's a lot to think about. But I think you can do this."

"Is that in the Slayer's Handbook? How to give pep talks?"

"Actually, no. But I'm thinking about writing my own handbook." He gave her a Ripperish-grin.

"Wicked cool. What'cha going to call it?"

"I'm torn actually. Either `Apocalypse. . . .Not!' or `Bloody Hell!'" He said with a straight face.

She burst into helpless laughter. Giles hugged her goodbye. As she shut the door behind him, she took in the room once more.

The high ceilings, sparse furnishings and uncluttered walls. She had been cramped in a cell for so long, she had forgotten what space felt like, and she knew that there was only one person that would have taken the time to think that out.

She walked to the bedroom and fell onto the king-sized bed. It was the softest thing she had ever laid on in her life. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so safe and comfortable. The first time in forever that she didn't feel wired, feel the need to be on her guard.

"Who would have thought, after all this time, it would work out like this?" She spoke out loud.

"Who would have thought that if you wanted to shack up with Angel, all you had to do was spend some time in the state pen?" A cold female voice asked beside her.

"Oh my god." Faith gasped. "B?"

"In the flesh." Buffy spread her arms and twirled, letting Faith take in her white leather pants and white tank top. "Well, actually, no, not really." Buffy looked her over, her gaze not completely disdainful. "All dressed up in my old clothes. That's ok, though. Black always did become you."

Faith glanced down at herself. Instead of the jeans and tee- shirt she had been wearing, she was now dressed exactly like Buffy, except in black.

"Who's dream is it now?"

"Does that really matter to you? My clothes become your clothes, my boyfriend becomes yours, my body . . .my responsibilities . . ." Buffy's eyes flashed with anger and animosity.

"Listen, B, I'm really sorry about Riley�I didn't know he loved�"

"Who mentioned Riley?" Buffy was now holding a black cat with blue eyes. "You forget so quickly."

"I remember him."

"No, you were right the first time. It's a she." She dropped the cat onto the ground. "But she's too scared of the dark to take care of herself now." Her voice had gentled. She looked at Faith with fond eyes. "Who isn't?"

Faith bit her lip. She looked at her hands. They were stained with blood for a moment. Then the flash was gone and she was clean again. Buffy stepped closer to her, putting a hand gently on the back of her neck and pulling her close. "Afraid of the dark, I mean."

"I took what I needed. The rest is yours."

Buffy smiled. "I thought you were dead."

"No, you didn't." Buffy stepped to the side. A white wolf pup brushed by them to nudge the cat. The cat hissed at it. Faith started forward to rescue the cat, but Buffy grabs her shoulder and pulls her back against her body. "No. He doesn't bite. Besides, it's still dark, not your time. Not yet."

Faith looked out the window. Blackness grinned back at her. "I have to wait until sunrise?"

Buffy leaned up and kissed her temple. "No. You have to wait for Dawn."

Faith sat straight up. It was pitch black in the room, now. She must have fallen asleep. Buffy's image flashed in her mind. It had been a dream. She swallowed. Good, living with the undead she could handle. Ghost visitations she could not.

She stood and walked to the bathroom, switching the lights on. She didn't bother looking in the mirror. There hadn't really been a lot of time for that in prison. Of course, there wasn't anything she wanted to see in there anyway. She splashed water on her face, and finger combed her hair.

She looked down at herself. She was back in her blue jeans and tee shirt. Her backpack was sitting on the toilet. She opened and examined the contents. Black leather pants, a black tank top, a couple of hair-bands, her make-up bag, black leather boots, and a pocket knife. Her fists clenched. The same clothes that she had been wearing in her dream.

"Wicked spooky," she breathed. She stripped and put on the clothes. "It's just leather, girl." She told herself. "It doesn't mean anything." She hefted the blade in one hand then tossed it back in the bag. Looking in the mirror for the first time, she applied powder, lined her eyes and decided to skip lipstick. She turned off the light and walked into the bedroom, trying to let her eyes adjust to the light. She sighed.

"Despite cultural misconceptions, vampires actually do enjoy light every now and then, so if you could see better with a lamp on, feel free." A dark voice said from the corner.

"Angel?" The light flicked on. She flinched for a moment, then she saw him. He was seated in one of the wing backed chairs next to the fireplace, his legs uncrossed, one hand on each armrest.

"In the flesh." He smiled.

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she shook it off. "At least you're not dressed in white." She murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing. Hi." She tried for a smile.

He stood and took a step forward, holding his arms out. She threw herself into his arms. "Angel. Mmmm." She buried her face in his neck, and even though he wasn't warm, his scent was comforting.

"Faith." He rubbed small circles on her back. "Are you ok?"

"God, why does everybody keep asking me that?" She stepped back from him, and wiped a hand over her face. She flashed him a mischievous grin.

"Yeah, cause prison is really like a day-spa now-a-days." He drawled sardonically.

She wrapped her arms around herself. That was one thing she always appreciated about Angel. When he was around her, he didn't mince words. He had never once told her it would be easy, or that everything would be fine.

"You don't look any worse for wear."

"Part and parcel with the whole undead package. Eternal youth. Liquid diet. Great night life . . ."

"Stop." She tried to hold back her laughter. "When did you grow a sense of humor?"

"Right after I had the stake surgically removed from my�" She put a hand over his mouth. "Have they been feeding you happy meals?"

He covered her hand with his and tenderly kissed her palm. "Alright, I'll stop. Are you up to a late-night meal? I'm sure you've had a long day . . ."

"You paying?"

"Certainly." He grinned bemused. She was starting to sound like herself again.

"Count me in." She flashed him a bright returning grin. They headed for the stairs. He stopped her in front of the desk in the lobby. He paused and motioned for her to wait for him. He ducked into a room in the back.

"I got you another present." He appeared from behind her and leaned over her shoulder. "Close your eyes and hold your arms out at your sides."

"Is this a trust game, because you should know I don't do well with�"

"Faith? Shut up."

She held her arms out, but peeked under her eyelids. He slid a leather coat onto her shoulders. "What's this?"

"A coat. I hear people wear them when they get cold." He chuckled and started for the door.

"You shouldn't have, I mean, I don't need this." She paused. "It's nice of you but, I don't need you to take care of me."

"I just didn't want you to catch cold. Nyquil's expensive." He tried to justify his actions. "Besides, I don't wear it anymore."

Faith bit her lip. She did like the coat. She had one like it before. Of course, that one had been stolen off a man she had put in the hospital.

There was just something unsettling about wearing Angel's coat. It still smelled like him, and that was uncomfortable, and comforting at the same time. Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what to say.

"Faith."

"Yeah?"

"Just say `thank you' so I can say `you're welcome' and feel all protectorish and self-sacrificing, and you can get to eat cheese fries."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," He chucked her under the chin. It felt good being with her without a screen of glass separating them. Impulsively he took her hand in his, as they stepped onto the street and headed toward Caritas.

"Did you say `cheese fries'?"

The black duster swirled around him as the vampire approached the young beauty. She sat serenely, a stake loosely held in one hand as she sat on the swing. A wistful smile turned up her lips as she stared up at the sky. He crept silently behind her. Normally, some sort of sixth sense that she couldn't explain would have warned her of the soulless creature's approach, but she was lost in thought. She was almost sixteen, and she was reflecting on her short life The vampire stopped behind her, perfectly still.

Then in a flash, he reached out and hauled her off the swing against his cold body. One arm crossed her waist, the other crossed her collarbone, the hand cupping her chin, holding her head at an angle that exposed her tender neck. He lowered his lips to her jugular with a small growl as he vamped out. The smell of her blood was addictive. He licked her racing pulse.

"Spike, that tickles." Dawn twisted in his embrace, taking a deep breath. He had startled her, but there was something about being so close to him that made it harder for her lungs to function. She felt his smile against her skin.

"What were you thinking about, platelet?" He should let her go. He knew it. But he liked touching the youngest Summers girl. He wanted to be her . . .protector.

And besides, she needed all the comfort she could get, he told himself. That was the reason he felt the need to cuddle her. *She* needed it.

"I was thinking that, I hate it here." She pulled away from him. He shivered at the loss of her body heat.

"What?" He sat in the swing next to her, making sure to lift his duster off the ground as he did so. "I thought you liked it here."

"Not anymore. I didn't want to leave, because I felt like B- buffy, well that she would have wanted me to stay here." She turned dim eyes on him. "But I hate it here. Xander and Anya have settled down. Willow and Tara, too. And I just feel . . .like I don't belong to anyone-"

"Anyone?" He asked quietly, a catch in his throat.

"Uh, I meant to say anywhere." She sighed. For a long time, Dawn had felt good in Sunnydale. She had felt close to her Mom and her older sister. She wanted to be close to where they were buried. She didn't want anything else in her life to change.

But lately, a restlessness had settled over her. She was itching inside her skin. She needed to get out of here, before she suffocated. She looked into Spike's face, trying to convey this to him without saying the words. She felt almost like she was betraying the slayer's memory by wanting to leave, but if anyone would understand it would be Spike.

He had been her protector since her sister had died, his loyalty and courage unswerving. They fought a lot. He was used to being obeyed as a master vampire, and she despised authority figures. But she never doubted that he would keep his promise to Buffy. He would watch out for her until the end of the world.

"Well then, let's go." He grinned.

"What? I'm sorry. I meant to say�WHAT?!"

"Let's get outta here. I never did like Sunnyhell." He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a smoke.

"But, we can't just get up and go, Spike." A thrill started in her stomach, even as she tried to trample it down with logic.

"Why the hell not?" He lit the cigarette and blew a stream of smoke to the side. "I've got money. It won't take that long for you to pack will it?"

"You're serious?"

"Deadly." He gave her his best wicked smile.

"What about school?"

"To hell with school." His glowered. "It's not like you're getting a quality education here. The old highschool's still covered in crunchy snake guts. We'll roam around for awhile, find a place that's comfy-cozy, and if you like, you can take school up again there. `Side's pet, don't you think you deserve a bleedin' vacation after all you've been through?"

She stood and turned her back to him. "I guess. But . . ."

He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders, carefully kneading the tension out of her back. "Don't think about it, luv. Let's pick up and go. You can be packed by sun-up. Sleep the morning away. We'll have the old Scoobies over for a goodbye dinner and leave at sunset." He nuzzled her ear. "We'll head west into the setting sun, just like in the movies. Well, maybe not the setting sun, unless you like to travel with dust bunnies. More like the set sun. What do you say? This time tomorrow, we'll be on our way to new horizons, so to speak."

She grinned. "Where will we go?"

An idea hit him. "L.A.? Why don't we go pay Peaches a visit?"

"Really?" Her eyes lit with happiness.

"What do you say, lil' bit?"

She threw herself into his arms. "Yes!" Then she started giggling. He swept her up into his arms and twirled her around. She shrieked and wound her arms around his neck. He started towards the house on Revello Drive. There was a lot of packing to be done.

"Spike, I'm your favorite Scooby, right?"

"Of course you are, Nibblet."

"Can I drive the Desoto?"

"Not a bloody chance in hell, pet." He smiled. "But, I'll show you how to hotwire a convertible when we get to L.A."

"Why a convertible?"

"You'll see later on. Consider it the highlight of L.A. nightlife."

"Do you swear?"

"Every damn day."

"You brought me to a bar that's full of demons?"

"Yep." He motioned to the waiter. "Two bloody mary's, one with blood and one without. Oh, and a plate of cheese fries."

"Angel, it's a karaoke bar, full of demons."

"Yes."

"You brought a Slayer to a bar full of drunk, musical demons? And you thought this was a good idea?" She whispered.

As she said this, a tall green demon approached them, he had flashing green eyes and was dressed in an Armani suit. He laid his hand on the vampire's back. Faith stood up, fist balled ready to help Angel. The dark vampire placed a quelling hand on her arm.

"Angel cakes, are you on a date?"

Faith was bemused. She looked pointedly at The Host and then at the hand he had on Angel. "Yeah, are you, Angel?"

Angel looked uncomfortable. "Faith was hungry."

The Host's expression was one of amusement. "Bet you are too, broody. Long between drinks, huh?"

"Lorne, this is Faith. Faith, Lorne."

"Are you hear to sing me for me, sweet thing?"

Angel answered for her. "Yes, she is as a matter of fact." He looked at Faith with an appraising eye. "I'm thinking Alannis Morrisette. What do you think?"

"I'm thinkin' you've lost your mind, Angel. I'm nobody's floor show."

"Why don't I let you check out the song list while Angel- cakes here warms up the crowd for you?" He set the list before her and motioned for Angel to follow him.

"Doesn't he need to look at this, too?" The dark slayer asked, hesitantly.

"He should know it by heart." Faith coughed to cover her smile.

"You could say I lost my faith in science and progress," Angel kept his eyes closed as he started out with the song. This was so embarrassing. As long as he didn't look, he hoped that he could finish the song.

"You could say I lost my belief in the holy church You could say I lost my sense of direction You could say all of this and worse, but If I ever lose my faith in you There'd be nothing left for me to do."

Faith stared up at the stage, her face an expression of awe.

The Host sat down beside her. "Amazing, isn't it? That anyone could sound that spectacularly-"

"Off-key?" she finished for him.

"Precisely."

"Some would say I was a lost man in a lost world You could say I lost my faith in the people on TV You could say I'd lost my belief in our politicians They all seemed like game show hosts to me If I ever lose my faith in you There'd be nothing left for me to do I could be lost inside their lies without a trace But every time I close my eyes I see your face," And there it was. Angel could see her face so clearly in his mind. Too clearly.

He opened his eyes and the next notes warbled even more atrociously than the first. The occupants of the bar, for the most part ignored him. They were used to his toneless stylings and accepted it as a force of nature. Just like earthquakes, wildfire and famine. It was something that had to be endured. But Faith sat transfixed. If only I could get this on video.

Lorne smiled at her. "Gives you courage to stand up there and do it yourself doesn't it?"

"Well, I couldn't possibly be worse. And by the time I get up there, everybody will have cleared out or bought earplugs."

And still it continued: "I never saw no miracle of science That didn't go from a blessing to a curse I never saw no military solution That didn't always end up as something worse, but Let me say this first If I ever lose my faith in you There'd be nothing left for me to do." Angel sighed in relief. It was over.

The rest of Caritas sighed in relief, too.

"Just one more minute, nibblet." Spike shifted the small metal tool into the lock again.

"Spike, do you really think we should be doing this? And is that the same kit you used at the Magic Box?"

"Of course we shouldn't be doing it. That's the bloody point. And actually, no. This is my travel kit. I pinched the other one off of good ole Ripper."

"Oh." She frowned. "Who?"

"We'll talk about it later."

Now, that he thought about it. . ."Tell you what, why don't you ask Giles about the side-effects of Sunnydale chocolate next time you see him?" He smiled as he pushed the door open, "After you, sweet bit."

She cautiously stepped inside the large hotel. "Wow."

"Never know how he'd afford a place like this, what with the broody cars and hair gel expenses and all." Spike made his way behind the front desk. In the back, there was small fridge. Opening it, he helped himself to a bag of O positive and a soda for nibblet. "Well then, make yourself at home. Let's sit over there."

Dawn sat on the couch he had indicated, and accepted the soda. "Shouldn't Angel be the one to say that?"

"Well, he's not here, is he?" Spike smirked. "Rude of him, don't you think? Not to be here to accept unexpected guests and all?"

Dawn leaned back, trying to get comfortable and adopt Spike's "sod-it-all" attitude, telling herself that if Angel were here, he would tell her to make herself at home. She hoped.

Spike leaned closer to her, putting a hand on the back of her neck. "Let's see, nice big hotel like this. Wonder what trouble we can get into?"

Angel put a steadying hand on the small of Faith's back. "You'll do fine."

"I can't sing."

"Well, for one Morrison more or less groaned the words into the mic anyway, and I know you can do that." Faith shot him a look. "And for two, that's the point of karaoke, if you could really sing, you'd be at a recording studio. Haven't you ever seen My Best Friend's Wedding? The point is to be bad, but be brave and do it anyway."

Faith shot him another look, this one baffled. Be bad? Be brave? Talk about mixed signals. "You saw that movie?"

"Avid Julia Roberts fan."

"As long as you didn't like Rupert Everett, I'm ok with that." A spotlight shone on the floor. "Angel, I can't do this . . ."

"Sure you can." He pushed her onto the stage. "You can slay demons, you can sing a song."

She stopped next to the puddle of light on the stage. The stage manager indulgently shifted the light to accommodate her. She looked down, then squinted up through the light as if it hurt her eyes.

Angel stood transfixed. She tried to look back at him, seeking . . .something. Comfort? Reassurance? A back exit?

The light blinded her. Looking forward once more, she could neither see nor hear the other occupants of the bar. Ahh, screw them. I don't have nothin' to prove. Not to them. She slid a hand down her leather clad thigh. She had taken human lives, she could sing in public. Should I be taking strength from those memories? But it was too late to question herself. The music had started and she needed to find some courage somewhere. If it was in thoughts of the power she once wielded without thought or compunction, so be it.

Her mind slipped into a Jim Morrison fantasy, where she was alone with his words. She could never make her words mean as much as she wanted them to. Everything she said seemed to come out muddled. But Jim's words, well maybe not everyone understood what they meant, but they knew it meant something.

"At first flash of Eden we race down to the sea." She closed her eyes, grasped the microphone and leaned into the part. "Standing there on freedom's shore Waiting for the sun, waiting for the sun, Waiting for the sun . . . Can't you feel it, now that spring has come; That it's time to live in the scattered sun Waiting for the sun, waiting for the sun, Waiting for the sun, waiting for the sun . . ."

And wasn't that the truth? She spent so much of her life waiting. "Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, Waiting for you to come along; Waiting for you to hear my song; Waiting for you to come along; Waiting for you to tell me what went wrong."

The last part she didn't even attempt to sing. She spoke in anguish, in confusion, in the hurt of the past three years. As the music died, she walked to the edge of the stage and jumped off. She went over to the table that she had been occupying with Angel and sat down to wait for him to return.

"Well, dollface, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but waiting for a vampire is the perfect way to find your `sun', though you're not waiting on the right member of the undead."

"Huh?' "That's it, keeping thinking blonde. Platinum even. And you'll get it." The host smiled at her. "I brought your cheese fries. Don't worry, Broody just wanted to give me a minute to talk to you before he intruded. He'll be back any second."

Faith looked down at the plate of food he set before her like it was an alien substance. Shaking her head, she perceived the ooey-gooey goodness of cheddar and potatoes and dug in.

"So what's the deal with this place, anyway? I thought demons were all into world-destruction, not re-enacting "I will survive" with horns."

"It's an interesting story, actually, beginning with an overly handsome and vocally talented young lad who stumbled upon a portal . . ."

Dawn laughed and scolded him as she would a small child, trying to ignore the thrill that shot through her body as her mind registered the wicked gleam in his eye. "Haven't you gotten into enough trouble tonight?"

"Not nearly." He growled when she shrugged him off, and looked the other way, trying to compose herself. "You shouldn't turn your back on the big bad, platelet."

"Oh? And why not?" She shot back. "You can't bite me."

He moved lightning fast, pushing her down onto her back on the small couch. He maneuvered so that his body weight pinned her slight frame. "Because I'm not just a vampire. I'm also a man."

"What's gotten into you tonight?" She couldn't decide if he was being playful or serious. Her heart was racing. One hand cupped her face, while he stroked her cheek with the index finger of the other.

"Am I making you nervous?" He asked. In truth, he was making himself a little nervous. He had no idea what he was doing, his motivation completely instinctual in nature. Something about being alone with Dawn was getting to him. He smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip.

"A little."

"You're trembling." He should let her up, but by now his predator's senses were in full control of his actions. His ego needed to intimidate, to dominate somehow. And her dismissal of him as a threat, even though he was her protector, rankled. It was almost like he wanted her to see him as something more. Something not completely safe.

She shifted beneath him and his hips settled between her thighs. He groaned. She was so sweet and innocent. . . it was downright intoxicating.

"S-spike . . ."

"If I could bite, I would probably have drained you by now, you know." He lowered his lips to her pulse. "All that sweet-smelling blood . . .and it's my job to protect it." She sighed and shuddered.

He grimaced and leaned back to look at her. "I swore I'd protect you. "I'm sorry, little bit." He rolled so that she was sprawled across his chest. "I must be tired. Or hungry. What do you say we nap till Peaches comes back?"

Weakly, she nodded. She wasn't sure what had come over Spike, but she had liked it. She had liked it a lot. And now she sort of disappointed that he hadn't finished whatever it was he seemed to have been starting. So she curled up on his chest, hands tucked into his duster for warmth and pretended to sleep.

Angel leaned against the wall of the alley. A dark voice inside him mused at the fact that he had spent many a night in just such a venue, usually without the innocuous purpose of taking time to collect his thoughts. He thought back to what the host had told him. Simple incredible. To think that Faith would be so important in the destiny scheme of things was easy. She was the Slayer after all. A calling like that did tend to have its own agenda. To imagine that she would be so important to his destiny personally, was a whole other matter. One that he had never considered.

He has been attracted to Faith, he was ashamed to admit. There was a part of Angel that was attracted to her wildness. A part of him that had wanted her every bit as much as his soul loved Buffy. Sure, he had "done the bad girl thing" before and it hadn't been right for him, just like he had once upon a time told Buffy. But then, he'd never met a "bad girl" as powerful or beautiful as Faith. And when he had pretended to be Angelus to get information from her, he had enjoyed the taste of forbidden almost too much. If he were to be honest with himself, he'd admit that he had taken it farther than it need to go. Because he liked it. Because he didn't want to stop. That was why he had shied away from her. Even now that she was on the road to redemption, she still retained that wildness. The untamed element. And the reason he was still afraid to get close remained. She tempted him.