dirty_girl

Tilting her head up, nose twitching, breathing in she inhaled the first signs of fall, signs only her keen sense of smell detected. Memories assaulted the former felon as she for the moment allowed her self to be lost. The moment fleeting, she put her keys into her pocket, jingling lightly as they brushed against each other.

For one more brief moment she stood there as if she were any other girl, but she wasn't and she had things to do, and it was about time she made some decisions. Unpacking not on her top ten things to do on this day, she couldn't avoid filling the empty fridge at her place. Debating between a cart and a basket, she opted for the latter, knowing all too quickly she'd be bored with her surroundings.

Why she always chose a 'Hot Pocket,' as her comfort food, she didn't know. They always took her back to those final days in Sunny 'D' when she finally began to feel a part of things. Granted it was a small part, but it was a beginning at least for the former felon.

Long fingers opened the freezer door, keen eyes read labels; spider senses kicking in she turned on heel at the sound of the footstep.

Sticking her tongue out she studied it in the mirror, she thought about what an odd looking thing a tongue was, so why did she like it so much? She stood there wondering until it hit her and she started laughing. Shaking her dark mane back and forth, she was shaking away demons; the demons of horrible memories were the ones she was trying to shake out of her head.

At this moment, she was remembering the body switch, and discovering herself in another’s body. That was a horrible thing for her to start thinking about while she was preparing for a date, taking her brush in hand; she cradled it in her hands remembering Riley. Riley got to her; he got to her because he loved Buffy. That was probably her first encounter with love, if you didn’t count the mayor. He was in a weird way her father.

She began brushing her hair hard, to make that visual go away. It didn’t take long until she was lost in thought. A dark teal tee, skin tight blue jeans, a bag (now it held makeup but also a weapon or ten) and satin heeled sandals that made her look longer and leaner. Ebony hair making her model perfect, she smiled in the mirror. ‘Not too bad for thirty-minutes,’ she thought as she sprayed ‘White shoulders’ into the air and walked underneath the fireworks of spray.

The door bell rang, and she bounded to open it. “I thought we could eat in, if that was okay. If not, I’m ready to go out – up to you.” Faith gave Scott her best smile.

Regardless of what the night might bring, she knew he was a stand up guy, and Faith needed one person in this town she could count on.

This was a good day. Yes, she was a bit tired from the late-night hunt, she'd come by work and clocked in, mixing up some business, so she could at least get sleep before going back on shift. Things with Mal - well she stayed away from him and did what he told her. She didn't need any more shit from men.

Of course it happened when she'd sworn of men.

The bar was always full, and tonight was no exception. It was difficult to maneuver around the packed pub. Someone smacked her hard in the ass which sent her forward literally into this guy's arms.

"Jerk," she yelled as she stumbled into the scruffy-haired man. Before she saw him, she was apologizing, "Dude," she began, "let me," it was then her dark orbs took him in.


"Hello." Faith almost purred.

In her head she could hear her mother's stilettos clicking on the cement. The closer she came, the louder the clicking. A young girl stood shaking in dirty tennis shoes, knees skinned from rough play. Most probably a black eye from fighting on the back streets of Boston, the place Faith always called home.

Next came the pulling of the pigtails, the cigarette burns followed by an occasional slap in the face.

Faith sat straight up in bed, fine beads of sweat clinging to her. Running her fingers through her dark mane, she knew where her nightmare came from - it came from the feeling of lack of self worth. She thought about calling Angel, he'd listen to her all night long. It's not as if he slept.

She need to kill and then she needed to screw. Half dressed she went and knocked on Em's door.


"Hunt - five minutes." Faith had some de-stressing to do.

Truth, many ways truth can lie to a person, even the nicest of persons. As far as Faith was concerned, there were no more nice guys, not ones for girls like her. She was the girl you took home, not the one you took home to momma.

All the signs were there, but something just wasn’t right. A woman could tell if a man were in love, even if he couldn’t.

Teach her to be truthful. A leopard never changes its spots, maybe she couldn’t either. For the first time in a long time she felt bad about herself, but she did. Like everything else, she'd get over it.

Sitting there, swinging back and forth in her chair she waited. Glancing up at the wall, she noted the time, standing she began to pace.

Once she ruled this office, things ran smoothly, everyone was on time; or at least they knew her office hours. She wasn’t pleased, working for a man; that took the cake. They were always fat, balding and sweaty. Here she couldn’t break his hand, well not on the first day on-the-job.

This alone time was screwing with her brain, all she could think about was Scott and how their relationship was slipping away. She wasn’t good at relationships, only a few things she felt she was good at doing, working for someone wasn’t one of them.

Her slayer senses let her know he was on the way. ‘Fuckin’ great,’ she told the silent cell phone.

Putting her hands on her waist she waited for this new boss.

Again she was experiencing the prophetic slayer dreams. Tiny beads of sweat covered Faith, tonight Scott wasn't on the other side of her. There she went typical Faith, not thinking. She'd hurt Scott. Not knowing what other apologies to make to him, she wondered if he were indeed better off without her.

She'd been so intent on finding out 'the family' secret, she'd hurt him, again. This time, she told Scott, she was an ass, and she'd be there when he was ready. So she waited.

With all of this she went to sleep, or tried. She'd just been enveloped but the safety of sleep when her dream became a nightmare of the slayer kind.


She wasn't too long from falling into that deep abyss, that she heard a clunk, with cat-like reflexes she was in the hall, ready for anything and anyone.

"Em? That'd better be you! If you're some evil undead thing, I'd rather sleep if it's the fuckin' same to you?" Then Faith paused, "Scott?"

Character Information
Name: Faith Lehane
Date of Birth/Age: December 14, 1980
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Point in fandom taken from: Post Buffy.
Background (please be as detailed as possible - the mods don't know every fandom):
Faith grew up in Boston, or B’ town as she calls it. Called at fifteen to be a slayer; her street smarts and natural cockiness helped her as she took the mantel of slayer. The dark-haired slayer watched Kakistos slaughter her watcher, she ran in fear. Choices create consequences, and her want, take, have credo caused personal chaos in her psyche. This rift turned her dark; eventually she found redemption. With Buffy she changed the slayer line forever.

Job: Slayer
Living arrangements :
May Faith live in a three bedroom house?

She loved the feel of the Harley, the power between her legs, the feel of the open road; it was often the dark-haired slayer had an opportunity to take some time and just be. Faith was assigned to check out a rather nasty Enelrad’s in the Pennsylvania Amish country. She’d never heard of an Enelrad, but then too she’d never read her Slayer Codex. Faith needed the wealth of resources in the G-man’s personal library.

Taking some extra days to play, and to visit the gang, they were last reported somewhere near Malvern. It’s wasn’t far off her destination; besides, this rogue had always heard the journal was better than the destination.

Before she caught up with everyone, she needed to eat. She searched for a parking place, stopped the bike, swung her leg over, then took off her helmet, went inside sat down and ordered a beer.

Faith was a bit miffed, not at Scott, but it couldn’t be helped. They’d become very fight, spending most of their time together. At times, she felt like a normal girl, Scott gave her that gift; they did normal things – but only sometimes.

When she left on the Council assignment, yeah, not something she wanted to do, she’d gone rogue, she didn’t like the way the fat-asses, as she called them, screwed over the G-man and well all of them, she played the game her own way. But when she left, she’d had to resign her job as head of security. Now back, she loved the freedom she’d been allowed.

Only, things kept getting worse, so she’d taken the job ... again; but with a lot more money.

Scott was an enigma, as she was to him. Many of his scars were inside and needed healing. Translation: he needed alone time. She respected that, even if she didn’t understand it. He’d been in a relationship; this was her first real one.

The cell buzzing in her pocket excited her. She just knew it was Scott.

( Family Ties )

It was time to get back, using every excuse imaginable, Faith managed to delay her return to Franklin Springs. She had a home there, not that it was hers, it more like she had stuff. Taking the work assignment abroad allowed her to remove the transparent ‘Contents under Pressure,’ tattoo inscribed on her forehead.

Europe was just what she needed, particularly Rome. What was it with Rome and slayers? Pablo was her only distraction. He had the moves, and the package as for a brain, Faith didn’t go there. Not that he was dumb as dirt; it was a revelation that she wanted someone with a brain. Not that she’d ever tell Giles or Wesley or anyone for that matter. Her only confident as of late, was Willow. As much as Buffy could understand her, the honey-haired slayer never killed a man. She’s never been really dark.

Darkness was one thing they had in common, a darkness marring the soul; they never spoke about it; yet it changed their lives forever, it was always there; hiding, waiting to awoken, held at bay. The deepness that shared experience would always make Faith value the friendship forged over the years, and much to Willow’s dismay cause Faith to be a bit over protective at times.

One thing she’d learned from Buffy: how to show. Faith returned with a suitcase full of gifts for the gang. It took awhile, but she was able to get everything on their beds, she wasn’t much of an emotion girl, it was better for her to leave the gifts in secret.

Escaping the confines of the house, she wandered towards the cafe to get lunch. Faith wanted a few more hours before returning to the slayer gig.

It was one of those days when the dark-haired slayer had an itch, the kind that gets under your skin when life feels as if it’s covering you, smothering you, pulling you in the humdrum of the everyday. Faith hated that more than anything, that feeling of… nothing. She moved carefully snaking quietly through one street and then another, absently kicking a rock as she walked. Hands in her pockets, her favorite stake hidden away, along with a new shiny Bowie knife in her leather, she’d mastered the silence of wearing that smooth warm finish. The stranger made her want a new toy, so she’d bought. Different now than the dark slayer she’d been, still a rogue, she’d never quite felt part of things.

Giles did his best, as did Buffy on occasion, still she hadn’t connected. Never thinking it was important, as she was growing up, and how she hated to think in those terms she realized she wanted more. For Buffy it rained men, for her well she always just got wet.

Why the hell she was feeling this way she didn’t know. Maybe it was because he’d pissed her off and made her really think about herself. Working hard to change the reflection she saw; she’d been proud, until now. The stranger’s words cut to the bone, even if he hadn’t meant them to do so. Slayers and families they weren’t meant to be. Unusually morose, chocolate hair bouncing as she walked, she made her way to the park; she sat in the same place she’d talked to Angel.

The sun was warm, the heat made her feel alive. Faith wasn’t sure what she needed, but she needed something interesting.

In one move the stake pierced the heart, the vampire’s face changed from a smirk to a pseudo death mask as he realized what just happened.

“Fuck yeah,” the words slipped out of the slayer’s mouth as the vampire vanished into dust, shimmering down, refracting the moonlight above. The once rogue slayer was pumped with enthusiasm. This unexpected kill made her want more, her lithe body was made for this; she was a killing machine. Fine beads of sweat dressed her forehead, the night warm and inviting. Times like this Faith had taken to laying on a grassy spot the graveyard to wait. She was much too revved to stay still, nor did she want Buffy to come across her laying in a bone yard gazing at the stars. She wasn’t in a mood to explain her behavior, nor did she want her reputation ruined by the fair-haired slayer.

Rumor was there was a pack of Draknird demons; the brainless bodies around town certainly fit the bill. Okay, there was one, and she’d stumbled upon it earlier in the evening, she’d been doing her on research on the Internet, that fact would make Wes have a heart attack if he knew, but that was her little secret. Faith was good at keeping secrets.

Since there wasn’t a trail of dead bodies, there wasn’t much of a lead. She tried to remember what she’d read; and that horrible school-girl feeling came flooding back, it was an unpleasant memory. Shaking her head to slay the memory, her long mane looked as if it were alive dancing around her shoulders.

Even though every demon had its own specific quirks or patterns there were always similarities. They hunted in the same type of territory, unless they were enemies. This was a rather hideous demon, the probabilities were it would stay hidden, keeping to sewers and back alleyways. This she knew from experience, never a plan kind-of-girl, Faith was more a fly-by-the-seat of your pants slayer. True to form, she patrolled the places she’d been before, places she could protect herself with the odd array of possible weapons. That lesson she’d learned from Buffy; know your territory, and be creative in your use of weapons. She had to give the girl props where they were deserved.

Slayer senses tingling, she sensed a presence. For years she’d honed her skills, priding herself on the fact she was a good tracker, good slayer, hell queen of the fucking world. Tonight was different. Her only conclusion was that it was some different demon than she’d tracked before.

Then she heard it, stopping in her tracks. She waited. She was down wind or would have been if it were blowing. Statue still, she could hear her heart beating in her ears. The rush of a potential kill began to make her skin tingle like small bee stings.

Again she heard it, the thing down the other side of the alley. She looked at the distance between the corner and where she stood. The beast was clever, she’d give it that; it barely made a sound. She slid the knife out from the waistband of her beloved leather pants. ‘You’re gonna feel really stupid if that’s a fuckin’ rat your huntin’, Faith silently told herself.

She picked her way the remaining distance to the corner, her back up against the wall. Breathing in, she prepared to attack, counting to herself.

Cat-like she sprang around the corner, grabbing at the creature before her. This wasn’t a creature like any other she’d come across on a dark and lonely night. As she grabbed its arm, it had the gall to grab hers. Knife poised ready to strike, she felt the warmth from the hand holding on to her. ‘Nice grip,’ she thought to herself, cautiously lowering the knife. She could still easily plunge it in, more importantly she wouldn’t kill another man by accident.

She wanted to say, ‘Hel-lo handsome,’ but thankfully she’d learned from her mistakes. She had to access the situation, make sure he was as harmless as he appeared. Instead she simply asked, “Who, the fuck, are you?”

Sundown, once I’d always loved the nighttime. In Boston, I’d sneak out of my room, find trouble, or it would find me. Later, when the sun set, the night as dark as the belly of a whale, when I’d discovered my slayer powers, it was a time to kick vamp ass, and take names. Now my job wasn’t quite as enthusiastic. I’d come here to meet Buffy, I’d put her on a pedestal of sorts, but I’d run into Blake instead. I could never hurt another slayer, B’ was like a sister; at least I had something in common with someone else in this world.

By my calculations if I killed off more vamps, then odds were, she’d find Blake quicker. Okay, yeah, he was getting to me; this was something beyond anything I understood. I’d continue to smell the same smell on Blake. I hadn’t asked him yet, but the smell was definitely feminine. Wouldn’t bother me in the least to stake that and then in my head, I thought about how stupid my logic sounded. So I was being bitchy, I missed Blake. He’d been absent, which was just what I needed to piss me off.

Maybe it was the connection I had with him, but I knew he wanted to see me, so I wandered the streets where I knew I’d find him.

The sun was fucking hot. This gig was dirtier than being a slayer. She’d been caged for what seemed like years, prison was a cake walk in comparison. Three squares, clean clothes and a movie, what else could a girl want? Faith thought to herself.

In the cage she’d had some shade, on the beach they were marsh mellows waiting to be scorched. Sitting still and doing nothing wasn’t her vote, so she wasn’t fly-by the seat-of-my pants slayer. Scouting around the makeshift camp, the newly freed slayer, for once, was doing research. It wasn’t the type Wesley would want her to do, pour over a book, reading words she didn’t always understand. This was different definition of research. The hyper slayer looked through supplies.

The wind was blowing swaying the trees; in the bush, the wind gave life to the myriad of tropical plants. Inanimate objects seemed lifelike; even the breeze became human, as if it were an ominous whisper in a raven-like ‘Nevermore,’ warning. Slayer senses tingling, she felt a chill in her spine that creepy feeling one gets when they know they are being watched. Invisible eyes watched her from the camouflage of the trees.

She was determined to find out just who was in charge.

Faith leaned back in her seat, the stewardess directed them to fast their seat belts. The rogue slayer was exhausted. This had been a boring assignment; she wanted to sleep in her own bed. The bed that was once again empty. She had to be the horniest slayer of them all, but she did her job, putting her frustration into her work, dusting the vamps easier than usual.

The plane taxied on the runway, she sighed realizing she was finally home.

After gathering her luggage, she dialed her cell. “Could you pick me up? I need a ride from the airport.”

She’d been avoiding Angel, she wasn’t sure why. He was, for all practical purposes the person she trusted most in this world. They had been through someone no one else would understand. They saved each other.

She’d also had a bit of a crush on him, something she’d never admit, maybe it was only that he touched her heart. Hopefully someone else would. She was tired of playing musical beds.

He’d know sooner or later that she was avoiding him; so the dark beauty went out looking for Angel. She left him a note asking him to meet her. She found this secluded place, the smell of Jasmine wafted up on the breeze. She found this place on patrol; she enjoyed coming here to be alone.

Closing her eyes, she sat back and waited. She needed to see Buffy as well, but this should come first. He believed in her, no one ever had. Leaning her head back, she enjoyed the breeze and the quiet.

Bolting up in bed, damp sheets clinging to the sweaty, warm body belonging to the ebony-haired slayer, eyes focusing on the room around her she allowed herself to fall dream like back on the bed. Curling up into a ball, arms pulling her body into the fetal position as if that would chase the nightmares away, Faith wanted revenge, her anger filling her head keeping the hurt close and yet metaphorically bleeding like an open wound.

Stretching, tilting her head both to the left and then right, waiting for the familiar bone popping sound until she inclined her head the other way the sound giving her the slightest satisfaction. The sun streamed in through cheap curtains. She had to get out of this candy store, and follow the incessant nightmares dreams she’d been having.

Hot steam filled the bathroom, enveloping her like a warm blanket easing her raw muscles. Quickly she showered, packed and was out the door and on the bus.

The ride uneventful, she was lost in thought as the miles rolled by.

It was sunset by the time the bus made its final stop for the day as she talked out into the Sunnydale streets.

Half-lit that was an appropriate term for Faith Lehane, didn’t mean she wasn’t on her game; more than anything she was ready, her slim body all tingling just like she liked it. Dark eyes watched from a cool, silent distance. Lethal hands, executing a melodic rhythm as her digits strummed one after the other on the tabletop. Easy time this was for opportunistic vamps and other beasties; all the snow in a small community that wasn’t ready. Dozens of happy meals with legs wandering around, shaking her head at those words, she sounded like Spike, and then the ‘dine-in’ crowd huddled in their houses. All it took was one cheeky fanged one to knock on the door with a line that could melt a sugary Georgian reeking with that sickening southern hospitality. This was like some drawn out happy hour. And now with the rumors of what was the term, day-walkers? ‘Yeah, just a myth,’ her now alcohol soaked brain thudded in the rest of her body giving an ‘other-worldly’ warning; a body aching to do damage but yeah, not in this crowd.

With each jingle, instinctively she glanced toward the bell singing from the door as she scrutinized each new customer to the local bar. As time moved as slowly as the snow was falling, she had to wonder if his was the only bar in town, for her it was the most convenient, having been waved off the street by one of the local yokels acting for the police who were out dealing with the car accidents, or the frightened townspeople across Franklin Springs.

In her experience, it wouldn’t be long until the flames from the fires would flicker yellow fingers in the sky. That is if the ‘questionable’ population would be ridding their spoils from human scrutiny. Faith had no way of knowing if this were true of hick vamps or not. The idea of a town without an underlying evil populist was unthinkable to Faith.

Being from B’ town, Faith was use to snowstorms but not the panic a snowstorm would weld on an unsuspecting little southern town. For a time she’d watched the snow fall from her vantage point, but with each passing moment, it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Like snowmen with flailing appendages, people scurried around in a vain attempt to get out of the freezing weather, almost pillaging the local markets of their bread and milk supplies. That was the news, told in what seemed a million different ways.

Consuming shooters, she was beyond bored, Faith’s thoughts moved to Buffy and the rest of the gang. Amused she watched, from alluring eyes, the men watch her, as she made her way to what was, in a previous life, a dance floor.
The dark slayer tossed her pretty head as she gyrated in rhythm to the music, eyes on her every move, swaying seductively she sighed to herself, as she toyed with the libidos of the clientèle. Why the fuck wasn’t she stuck in bed with someone instead of here? Maybe this time it would be different.

Lithely moving her hands up her body, her hands slowly tracing the curves of her figure, they took rest in her crowning beauty, fingers interlocked in her curls as she danced.