"I almost killed Buffy," she whispered as she ran. She had no idea where she was going, just knew that she wanted to be as far away as Buffy and her version of the Scooby gang as she could get.
She knew if she went back to her room they would come looking for her. "Then again, after trying to kill two of them, maybe not." It was all so confusing. Why did this keep happening to her? All she wanted was to do the right thing and no matter what she did it got screwed up. It was almost like something was blurring the lines, making her screw up.
She could not take a second watcher dying on her watch. Watchers were not supposed to die, slayers were. "Craziness," she said as she walked toward a part of town she rarely frequented. She did not want to go to any of her usual haunts, though.
How the hell was she supposed to do her job if the person teaching her kept dying? It was a question she had no answer to and did not want to think about it just then.
She walked through the college bar's doors and took a look around. "Prime hotties all around," she said. "This will help take my mind off things but good."
She sauntered out to the dance floor, ensuring she was noticed by more than a few of the guys in the bar. She was in the mood to let loose, wash her hands of death and the responsibility that went with being the slayer. Tonight she wanted to knock a few back and tease a few of these college boys.
She was doing it. The night's events were pushed far to the recesses of her mind until she saw Angel standing on the edge of the dance floor. He was tall and stood out in a knee-length leather coat. But when she looked again, he was gone.
She stopped dancing. "Hey, the music hasn't stopped, baby."
"Yeah, yeah, give me a minute." She had no idea who she was even talking to, her eyes were busy scanning the bar. "Where'd he go?"
"Who?" her dancer partner asked.
"Never mind," she said, realizing Buffy's undead honey was just playing mind games on her. She had better things to worry about then Buffy and her do-gooder friends, anyway. Faith had no desire to be good for the rest of the night.
She wrapped her arms around the nearest guy dancing with her. "You've got my attention now. What are you going to do about it?" She danced seductively, bumping and grinding against his thigh and the front of his jeans.
"I've got better beer in my room."
"I'll just bet you do," she said coolly. "And it'd be more private. What do you say, lover boy? You, me, some beer, and a dance floor just for two?"
"Yeah, sure," he said. Faith imagined the guy was wondering how he had scored so easily. Little did he know. A little bit of death, a little bit of a person she trusted turning out to be evil.
"I'm ready," she said as she stepped away coolly and let him lead her off the dance floor. She could not help but scan the crowd one last time for any sign of her blonde counterpart or her boyfriend.
Images of Miss Post wearing that sci-fi looking glove, telling her that Buffy and Angel were not to be trusted. Faith did not trust anyone easily, but Buffy had never done anything to make Faith not trust her. She had been taken in so easily, though, by a woman who resembled her mother showing her attention. Was she that easy to pull one over on?
"Hey, baby, what's taking you so long?"
"Nothing. Just checking you out," she said with a wink. There was only one way cure for what ailed her tonight and she was close to getting it.
Story © Susan Falk/apckrfan/phantomroses.com