Part One: Lindsay

"Schneider!" the Guard called out. Faith continued musing to herself until she remembered that was the name she had given to the police when she had given herself up a week ago. It wasn't her real name, of course. She was the only one who knew her family name, and if she had anything to say about it, no one else would ever know it. They didn't have the right.

"Yeah?" Faith replied, getting up. The Guard walked over to her cell, an unpleasant snarl on his already unpleasant face. Faith hated him. Every time he came near her, a part of her cried out to spit in his face. He deserved it. It had become obvious within half a day of her being incarcerated that as far as he was concerned, everyone in the cells was guilty as hell. The burden of proof be damned. Oh yeah, she was guilty, but the other inmates? Like the poor fucker who was in yesterday. A fifteen or so year old kid who, it was obvious to her, was guilty of nothing more than being black in a white neighbourhood. The guard had made it clear that if he was in charge the boy would've been hanged without a trial. Total asshole.

"Visitor for you. Seems some loser lawyer actually wants to defend you." That sentence summed him up perfectly. Once you were in his cells, you were guilty. Faith snarled at him as he unlocked her cell.

"Thank you. You're a fine representative of the justice system," she replied with a smile designed to destroy any misguided impression that the guard might get that she was complimenting him.

"Fuck you, Schneider." The guard shoved her towards the door from the cells. Faith fought back the impulse to turn and smash his jaw bone. Going for reduced sentence by playing the reformed character card might not work if she did.

She turned to face him as she stepped out of the door and left his bigoted kingdom. "Only in your wettest dreams, asswipe. Only in your wettest dreams." She was sure the officer who had come to accompany her to the interview room smiled as she said it.

Faith was only slightly surprised when she saw the lawyer who had come to offer her defence. "Well, I should've known," she said with a look of distaste as she sat across the table from him. "Come to ask for a refund?" Lindsey MacDonald smiled slightly in acknowledgement of the comment.

"I'll be right outside," the officer said, standing the open door. "Just call if there's any trouble."

"That's fine," Lindsey replied. The other man left and closed the door. "So," Lindsey continued, "Miss, er, Schneider. You seem to have a small legal problem."

Faith grunted. What was it with lawyers that they thought understating everything was funny? "Nothing I can't handle," she said boldly, hoping the lawyer wouldn't notice the underlying fear.

Lindsey pulled a folder from beside him and threw it across the table at her. "On the contrary. Your confession has linked together several pieces of circumstantial evidence that were obtained by Sunnydale PD. On top of the three murders you actually did commit, you've now been linked to seven deaths that were more than likely caused by over-zealous vampires."

Faith felt her heart jump a little. She was sure MacDonald's eyes lit up as the horror she suddenly felt spread to her expression. "You're kidding, right?" she asked, her fear now obvious in her voice.

Lindsey's voice took on a condescending tone. "Your Mayor could've gotten you out of it, since he owned Sunnydale PD until he botched his Ascension, but it seems that all of a sudden they've become less corrupt."

"And you want to defend me out of the goodness of your heart?" Faith asked with disbelief.

"Of course not, I have a business proposition for you." The man sounded so smug Faith expected him to start oozing slime. "Despite the fact that you failed to complete your last contract, Wolfram and Hart would like to take on your case, at no charge, in return for a promise that you will work for us in future."

Faith laughed. "Figures."

"Your Vampire friend will be able to tell you that we are an exceptional Law Firm. We do not lose cases. If we defend you, you will go free." Christ, but this man was sure of himself.

"You just told me that I was in serious trouble because of the evidence against me."

"You are," Lindsey said calmly. "But let us worry about that. All we ask for is an agreement that you work for us. We're not asking you to work for free, just to accept the work we push your way."

"You want me to kill for you." Faith said coldly. The look she received from Lindsey in reply left her in no doubt as to the truth of the statement. She laughed again. "Don't you get it? I turned myself in because I wanted to repent for what I've done. I've just found out that I have got a soul, and now you want to buy it from me? Freedom doesn't matter to me, because no matter where I am I won't be free from the memories of what I did. It doesn't matter if I go to jail. I deserve it. What I did was wrong."

"You'll never be able to repent for what you've done," Lindsey replied, an insincere smile on his face.

"I certainly won't if I work for you bastards." Faith stood up and walked to the door.

"Is that your answer to our offer?" Lindsey said, somewhat dismayed.

"No, jerk-off. This is my answer to your offer." She raised the middle finger of her left hand and jabbed it upwards. "Go fuck yourself, Lindsey," she said as she knocked on the door to be taken back to her cell.

Part Two: Adam

Faith stumbled as she was lead along the corridor. Suddenly her head felt light. She instinctively put one arm out to the wall beside her to steady herself. Shit. What was this? What was wrong with her?

"You OK?" the officer leading her asked. Strange. He was a lot more compassionate than most cops that she'd met over the years, she could tell that from his voice. Maybe he wanted her. Nah. If he wanted her he'd be treating her like shit. More likely he was a fruit.

"I'll be fine," she replied, trying to blink away the cloudiness in her head. "Just get me back to my cell so I can lie down."

It was then that the voice ripped through her head.

POWER OF THE SLAYER AND ALL WHO WIELD IT.

What the fuck? That was Red's voice. What the hell was that Pagan nerd doing in there? The voice had hit her head hard, like the throb of a migraine.

LAST TO ANCIENT FIRST WE INVOKE THEE.

Power of the Slayer? Last? She was the last Slayer. Red was drawing on her power? The bitch! What right did she have? What fucking right? The sudden burst of rage pushed the fluffiness in her mind away. She realised the cop was taking most of her weight, and leading her to the station nurses, not back to her cell. "I'll be fine," she insisted, now walking much steadier. "I'm getting a migraine, just take me back to my cell before I pass out from it." The cop started to protest, causing Faith to roll her eyes. "You can bring me some painkillers later if it will make you happy."

GRANT US THY DOMAIN OF PRIMAL STRENGTH,

Faith stumbled again as she stepped through the doorway to the cells. This was getting to be far too trippy. She ignored the duty guard's sneer at her as he unlocked her cell.

ACCEPT US AND THE POWERS WE POSSESS.

She stepped carefully into her cell as the spell pounded in her head - half falling, half rolling onto the uncomfortable bunk along one side.

MAKE US MIND AND HEART AND SPIRIT JOINED.

As soon as Faith was lying down she relaxed a little and let the spell wash through her. She started to become less aware of her surroundings as the magic drew her in. She didn't hear the lewd and hateful comment that the guard made as he locked the cell.

LET THE HAND ENCOMPASS US. DO THY WILL.

The hand? Faith's mind raced. The hand could only be B. She could sense them all now. Red, G-Man, and Xander, with B further away in some distant reach of the spell. She was occupied with something else. Something violent. So what was the spell for? To help B out? If so then Faith was willing. She had to make it up to B, after everything she had done to her she had to try and make it right.

SPIRITUS. SPIRIT.

The spell was changing. Intensifying.

ANIMUS. HEART.

That was Xander, not Red. It must be some major spell if it took more than just Red to cast it.

SOPHUS. MIND.

And Giles. All of them. Faith started to realise what the spell was doing. The only surprise she felt at what she heard next was at Buffy not saying it.

AND MANUS. THE HAND.

Red's voice again. Faith accepted what the spell was doing and gave in to it, letting it draw her in further, and become a part of it. Man, but that was a fucking rush. In an instant, it was as if her entire body switched on. Every nerve ending pulsed with the spell's power. Orgasms were never going to be the same after this, that was for sure. Well, not unless she found a really good vibrator.

WE ENJOIN THAT WE MAY INHABIT THE VESSEL. THE HAND. DAUGHTER OF SONEYA. FIRST OF THE ONES.

First? No way. The first? The first ever slayer? This Faith had to see. But she couldn't. The astral plane - or whatever it was - was getting crowded now. The souls of many Slayers, she guessed. Some of them she could recognise on instinct. Kendra. Rebecca. There were hundreds. Some clearly resented having their eternal rest disturbed. Others were more amenable. Some happy to help. Some even eager to get involved. Fuck, there were so many. The reality of the legacy she was part of started to become clear to Faith. Along with how much she had twisted the heritage. How much she owed for what she had done.

WE IMPLORE THEE. ADMIT US. BRING US TO THE VESSEL. TAKE US NOW.

Willow's voice - Faith couldn't think of her as just 'Red' right now - became a lot firmer, not just reciting a spell, but demanding help from the spirits she was calling on. The souls of the Slayers. Faith's mind - or was it the astral plane? - spun. This was such a trip. She was fully part of the spell now. Part of its power.

Then the spell jolted. Suddenly she could see clearly again. Only not through her own eyes. She knew that from her body-swap experience. She was seeing what Buffy was seeing. The reminders of what she had done then disturbed her, but the discomfort was soon washed away by the thrill of what she was part of.

THEY stood up. 'THEY' was the only term Faith could come up with that was appropriate. It wasn't just Buffy. It was Willow and Xander and Giles. The four of them together, with the Slayers binding them, keeping the spell from collapsing. And yet there was a slight discord to the spell. An imbalance. In a flash of intuition Faith realised she was the cause of the discord. THEY resented her presence in this solemn moment. Faith sensed the ties of love between them, and the negative effect she had on those ties. And yet... without her THEY would fail. Without the discord she brought, the spell would overcome them, and they would be lost in the rapture of their union. THEIR enjoined souls.

Faith shook off the thoughts that kept spinning through her head. She had to go with the flow, let the spell take control, or she would risk disrupting it further.

"You can't last much longer." The voice seemed to come from far away. As Faith paid attention to what THEY were seeing, she saw the monster that had spoken. One ugly motherfucker. Looked like what Frankenstein's monster would've been if the good doctor had raided Demon Cemeteries instead of human ones. It must be Adam.

WE CAN. WE ARE FOREVER.

The voice was overpowering. It began to chant. Some ancient language, Sumarian or something. Adam just stood there and watched. Chump. "Interesting," he said, curiously. What was there to be curious about? He was about to be stomped into the ground. He should run, not philosophise. He raised his arm, the arm that had what looked like a chain gun fitted to the end, as THEY continued chanting. The air in front of THEM started to ripple at the same instant as Adam levelled the chain gun at Them and started firing.

Wow! This was way way better than cable. Faith made a mental note to that Cable TV was no longer the best way to pass the time. Well, no longer the second best. Or should that be third? She couldn't tell from her vantage point what was happening to the bullets, but they certainly weren't hitting THEM.

Adam stopped firing. He was clearly concerned now. And so he should be. THEY were gonna kick his ass! "Very interesting," he said, somewhat nervously. He carried on firing. Didn't he learn? He was fucked! Give it up, man!

A look of determination appeared on Adam's face as the chain gun's ammunition ran out. The gun kicked, and a shell flew out of it. As it got closer to THEM things seemed to slow down. OK, someone in the spell had been watching the Matrix too much. Who was Faith kidding, with Buffy, Xander and Willow involved, it was probably more a case of one person in the spell possibly hadn't been watching the Matrix too much. No, Giles would've watched it too much too. THEY raised their hand. As the shell touched it, ever so slowly, it turned into three doves, which flew off to far corners of the room. Far too much. All of them. It rocked, all the same.

THEY circled their hand, and Adam's gun folded itself away, disappearing into his arm. Yeah! Go Good Guys! Go Good Guys! Faith hesitated for a moment. She was rooting for the good guys? Yeah, she was. She was rooting for the good guys. The realisation that she actually meant it warmed her. The road to redemption suddenly seemed that little bit less steep.

As the two entities approached each other, Adam lunged clumsily at THEM. They dodged easily, then attacked. THEY showed no mercy. After receiving a brief onslaught of punches Adam was kicked into a computer console at the edge of the room. THEY grabbed him by the throat and picked him up.

"How can you...?" he began to ask in disbelief. Faith didn't know much about Adam. When she'd been in Buffy's body she'd picked up enough to know he was a badass. He planned too. Planned well. Otherwise he wouldn't have been so surprised at the tables being turned on him. One thing was certain though. He may have planned well but he hadn't planned enough.

YOU CAN NEVER HOPE TO GRASP THE SOURCE OF OUR POWER.

THEY threw Adam back against the console, and he rolled off it onto the ground. Ha! Take that! THEY grabbed him before he could recover, spinning him around. Then... Wow! THEY jumped into the air and kick kick kick kick kick kick without touching the ground, pushing him into the far wall.

This was it! Yippy Ki Yay, Motherfucker!

THEY plunged their hand into his stomach, closing around the power source within. Adam grasped their wrist, trying in vain to fight them, but it was already to late. With a wrench THEY pulled the glowing green cylinder out of his gut, and held it up, contemplating it.

BUT YOURS IS RIGHT HERE.

"Buffy?" Another voice. Beefstick, if Faith was remembering right. Buffy's gooder-than-good boyfriend. Strange. Faith had spent all that time with him when she was in Buffy's body, but hadn't heard him speak enough to recognise his voice easily.

Astral echoes of the chant from moments before revurberated through the spell's influence. The power source rose into the air, then with a flash collapsed in on itself.

The spell began to subside, now that its purpose was fulfilled. Faith felt herself sinking back towards her own body. Yeah, that was definitely better than cable.

Part Three: Tara

Faith came to with a start. What? Where? Oh. The momentary disorientation soon vanished, and she took in the surroundings of her cell, including... Food! They had brought her food while she had been out. Without stopping to think any further she rolled off her bunk and onto the floor, lunging towards the tray that had been left just inside the cell.

"Mmmph Gnnhhh Ommmgh" she said as she shovelled the food into her mouth. She didn't even pay attention to what it was. All she knew was that she was famished. Shit, if the spell had done that to her what had it done to B and co? No, wait. The spell had done that to her because it had fed off her. The others would've been affected differently. Probably just feeling the immense wave of tiredness that Faith could feel approaching behind the wave of immense hunger she was currently dealing with. And yet they were still fighting. The bond between Faith and B had strengthened again as a result of the spell. Faith could feel what was happening to her fellow Slayer. Just an instinct that told her what was going on. Fighting Demons, of the un-Frankenstein varieties. Jeez, were they gonna be fucked when they finally stopped. Faith felt a brief pang of sympathy for them, which was soon followed up by disappointment that she wasn't able to join in the fun. Not that she could join in right now. She needed to sleep. Fuck, did she need to sleep. She looked at her tray. She'd eaten everything already. Dammit. That would be all the food she'd get until morning. She looked up at the guard. The shift had changed during the spell, the asshole bigot was gone and had been replaced by a youngish guy with a ridiculous moustache who Faith didn't recognise. He was reading something. Penthouse by the look of it. Well, that said it all really, didn't it?

Faith was just about to call him and try and get more food by appealing to whatever side of his nature it took when the tiredness overtook her and she fell asleep, just like that.

Faith was somewhere else. In some part of her mind she knew she was dreaming, but some other part knew that it was no ordinary dream. It was like the dreams she had shared with B while in her coma. B had helped her in some ways, and part of her had helped B. All of it had been important. The sense she was getting told her this would be too.

Nervously she took in her surroundings. Not here again! She was in her old apartment, the one Mayor Wilkins had given her. Someone was standing in the doorway. Faith looked up. It was... Tara. That was her name, right? Red's girl. What the hell was she doing in a UPS outfit? Faith opened her mouth to speak, about to utter some comment.

Tara raised a finger to her lips. "Shhh."

Faith looked away, suddenly nervous. Something freaky was happening, something she didn't quite understand. This dream was way important. She'd heard B talk about them. Slayer dreams. Portents. This felt like what B had described, although something didn't quite fit. She turned back to face Tara, then blinked. Someone else was there.

It was another girl. Younger than Tara, a little younger than herself. Eighteen maybe. Her long black hair was pulled back into a tight no-nonsense pony. She had an air of innocence about her, but also an edge. Anger. Sadness. Loss. In that way she reminded Faith of herself. Ominously, the girl was wearing what looked like prison overalls. There was an owl perched on her shoulder. It turned its head suddenly, staring at Faith as the girl spoke. "Do you know who I am?" she asked.

Faith could only stare at her. She was a girl Faith wanted to fall in love with, that's who she was. Faith looked away again, this time in the other direction, tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to blink them back, and as she shut her eyes her surroundings changed.

She was sitting down. Wearing a long red gown. Sitting with a hundred or so other people in the same attire. Graduation. She was wearing the Sunnydale High Graduation Gown. Staring at the speaker's stage that had been constructed. There was a girl standing on it. Faith shook her head in disbelief. The girl was her. Her in the pink summer dress the Mayor had made her wear. OtherFaith looked sad. As sad as the girl she had seen a moment before. Perhaps even sadder. OtherFaith turned and looked to one side. Faith followed her gaze, half knowing who she was going to see.

It was the Mayor. Richard Wilkins. Dick. The first and only person to ever truly love her. He had been evil, but he had loved her. But these thoughts weren't relevant. The dream pushed them away. "Hey Faith!" the Mayor shouted to her, that familiar happy manic grin on his face, complete with matching lilt to his voice. "The man with the cheese is searching for you!"

That didn't seem right. Didn't seem to belong. Almost felt like a part of her was trying to throw the normal abstract bullshit into this dream. Faith stood up, about to complain. This was a powerful, meaningful dream, and she could do without her own deranged subconcious trying to get a look in.

Her surroundings had changed again. She was still in the school grounds, but the chairs were in disarray. Many were broken. Nothing was left of the makeshift wooden stage but splinters. The school itself was the charred shell that she recognised from her most recent visit to it. The place felt sterile. Lifeless. B was standing next to her, wearing a black dress, and black veil. "Faith," she said, a look of mock seriousness on her face. "You are the other hand."

Well, that was nice, but what the fuck was it supposed to mean? The spell. In the spell Red had called B Manus, the hand. The Slayer. And she was the other Slayer. All of a sudden it made too much sense to be correct. But... oh, dammit girl, just roll with it. It's a dream, let it happen. Time enough for navel-gazing dream interpretation when awake and sitting round in a police cell.

Stubbornly Faith kept her gaze steady. Her surroundings had changed everytime she had turned her head or moved, and she was determined to try and stay in one place. A cloud of dust blew across her view. Oh, but that was cheap.

And now she was in a church. No. Not a church. The church. The place where she had faced down three vampires, and spoken those words. Because it's wrong. She'd started saying it as a mantra to mock B while she was in B's body. But in here, she had said it and meant it. The doubts that had come from her experiences as B had crystalised into revulsion at the person she had been. Yes. Even if none of the other places she had been in this dream symbolised anything, this one certainly did. Faith turned around as she heard footsteps behind her.

It was Angel. No, it wasn't. It was someone who looked like Angel. Exactly like him. But it wasn't him. Faith didn't know how she could tell, but she could. "Why are you here?" she asked, a little more harshly than she meant to.

NotAngel gave one of those wry half-smiles that the real Angel liked so much. "I've never been anywhere else. But this is the first time you've looked at me with your eyes open." Faith growled inwardly. It didn't sound right, hearing Angel talk all cryptic, even if it was really NotAngel. She was used to Angel's dark broodiness, and his grim no-nonsense seriousness. This grated.

"Then why am I here?" she said, swinging her arms outward. She was gesturing at the whole dream as much as the church, but would be happy with an answer for one or the other.

There was that smile again. "Everybody's gotta start somewhere," NotAngel replied. Then, with a brief shimmer of light, he was gone.

Faith found it hard to keep track of the dream for a while after that. It was as if the important part was over and done with, and that what followed didn't apply to her. She caught snatches here and there, like Red panicking over some play, or something. Xander watching Red and her girl make out. No surprises on focussing on that. Those two were hot together, Faith had to give Red that. Then G-Man singing on stage. Couldn't quite make out what he was singing, but it was about what was happening to them. They were caught in something. The spell they had cast earlier had made something else happen, a side effect or something. Faith was caught in it too, but she didn't seem to be as threatened. Part of the dream was trying to defeat them, and it seemed that one by one it was. Only B was left.

And now Faith was here. B's bedroom? The bed was untidy. "B and I just made that bed," Faith said, not knowing entirely why. Some instinctive memory told her that she was right, that they had, but that didn't make it any less strange.

"Why? What for?" came the reply. It was Red's girl again, Tara. Standing behind Faith, this time wearing the sort of mismatched kooky outfit that Faith would've expected. Faith turned briefly to look at her, then blinked as she turned back. The bed had changed. There were no bedclothes. Just the mattress, with pillows and quilt stacked haphazardly in one corner.

"You're the dreamweaver, you tell me," Faith muttered in reply. "B isn't here, is she?" she asked absently. "We were gonna hang out and quarrel about my past." Or something. Right now the dream seemed to have more control over what Faith was saying than she did. In any other dream, that would be seem natural. But here, in this dream? It was too weird.

"She went on ahead. She didn't need you." Like fuck. B wouldn't know what to do when it came to it. Then again, would Faith? Maybe not, but the two of them together would stand a better chance. Then Faith saw the calendar on the wall. February 2001. "I thought I was only in a coma for eight months?" she said, suddenly worried.

"Oh," Tara said, as if it was something she'd forgotten. "That's not the date now, it's just a reminder for you." What? Then Tara held something out towards Faith. "Here," she said.

Faith looked down. The other girl was holding a pack of Tarot cards, the Lovers card face up on top of the pile. "That's not me and B," Faith said dismissively.

"You're scared of what's to come, what you are," Tara said as Faith stared around the room, confused. "You're braver than you know."

Faith turned and stared at Tara, half confused, half annoyed. "I have to go find B," she said, and walked out of the bedroom.

"She's waiting for you," Tara called after her.

Faith frowned. Somehow she'd managed to walk straight out of a bedroom and into a desert. Joshus Tree cacti and red sandstone rocks broke the sandy monotony. She could see B in the distance, further down the slope they both stood on, wearing a summer dress that made her look quite the innocent. B was talking to someone else, Tara again by the look of it. Red's girl was dressed much more elegantly now, wearing some bright pink Indian type garment.

"You're not in my dream," Faith heard B say. The words carried to her as if B was standing right next to her. The words chilled Faith, and for a second she wondered if they were directed at her even though they were said to Tara.

"I was borrowed," Tara explained. "Someone has to speak for her." Speak for who? Oh. Her. Faith saw the figure further off, running towards B. The figure looked... aboriginal. Instinctively Faith knew it was the first Slayer. Her experience in the spell had given her enough to be able to tell that.

"Let her speak for herself," B said as the First stalked behind her, then began to circle her. "That's what's done in polite circles." As the First stepped around in front of her, B spoke again. "Why do you follow me?"

It was Tara who spoke, but Faith could tell that they came from the First, not her. "I don't."

"Where are my friends?" B asked, by the look of it not quite sure who to look at.

"You're asking the wrong questions." Faith smiled to herself as she heard that. Just the kind of cryptic talk that would infuriate B.

"Make her speak," B insisted. B was running out of time on the clock here, gotta play the game or you can't win the prize, girl.

Tara continued to speak for the First. "I have no speech. No name. I live in the action of death." Faith felt a chill again. Once again the words could well apply to her. "The blood cry. The penetrating wound. I am destruction. Absolute. Alone."

Faith found herself crying again and tried to scream out to the others. "No!" She made no sound. She had no voice here. She was a spectator, nothing more.

"Slayer?" B asked. Well duh. Who did B expect? Britney fucking Spears?

"The First" Tara said quietly.

"I am not alone," B said. She glanced down at something she was holding. Not more Tarot cards?

"The Slayer does not walk in this world."

"I walk," B said. "I talk, I shop." Faith found herself silently cheering B on. There was an edge to B's voice that said she wasn't going to take any more bullshit. "I sneeze. I'm gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back." Now what the fuck are you talking about, girl? "There's trees in the desert since you moved out." That got a reaction from the first, attagirl. "And I don't sleep on a bed of bones. Now give me back my friends." The last sentence was said firmly, implying that only one answer would be accepted.

"No friends!" The First spoke for herself angrily. Her voice was hesitant, as of the language didn't feel quite right. "Just the kill! We are alone!"

Faith wanted to shout out to the First, "You're wrong. The world has changed," but her voice was still lost. She was too caught up in her own anguish to see the strange man appear from nowhere with a slice of cheese in each hand. By the time she was paying attention again, he had disappeared.

"That's it," B said, clearly having had enough. "I'm waking up."

The First lunged at B, and they fought briefly.

"It's over," B said when they stopped. "We don't do this any more." They started fighting again, and started rolling down the slope.

"You were going to help her," Tara said. She was standing right next to Faith now. Faith fought down the urge to hit Tara in anger. She didn't do that sort of thing any more. Further down the slope she saw that B and the First had vanished.

"The dream wouldn't let me," Faith replied, as if that explained everything.

"The audience can't play lead guitar." Tara said. Nice metaphor. But it did have a hole in it. Maybe that was the point. Maybe Tara was nudging her, telling her there was a way if she could only find it.

"No," Faith agreed. "But they can sing along to the song." She turned and stared down the slope into the distance, concentrating on the point where B had disappeared. All she had to do was focus beyond, her instinct told her. Her view rippled, and suddenly she was looking down into... B's living room. She could tell that B had all but fought off the First, she just needed the chance to get away, to end the fight. The First was staring at B while B was muttering some cuttingly dismissive put down. Faith reached across the dream and grabbed at the rags the First was wearing.

"...what kind of impression am I making in the work place," B said as Fait h yanked the First away from the other Slayer. "Because..." Faith heard no more. She pulled the First back through the dream space into the desert.

"What the hell are you trying to do?" Faith shouted angrily, pushing the First into the sand. "You had no right to tell her how to do her job!" Wow! Way to cut loose with the anger there. Faith hadn't realised how angry she'd been getting.

The First leapt to her feet. "Slayer fight!" she spat back. "Slayer kill!" Shit. It started to dawn on Faith that she was talking to a Primal spirit here. How could she explain?

"Yeah, and then what?" she shot back. "Things have changed. I'm a Slayer too, and look how I turned out!" Now Faith was really getting into this. "I had no friends! I was alone! And I just killed! It fucked me up!" Tears of rage and despair trickled down her cheeks. "There's no room for a Primal Killer in an evolved society. That's why most people pretend that Vampires and Demons don't exist. They can't deal. A Slayer has to be more than just a killer to fit in. The Demons have learnt how to hide amongst the masses, how can the Slayer compete if she doesn't?" Faith squat down in front of the First. "We can't fight the darkness the same way any more," she said, quietly, sadly. "We need your strength, your power, but we can't use your battle plan. Can you understand that?"

"I understand," Tara said, speaking for the First again. "The story changes each time with the telling." Faith blinked, and wondered if it was the words or just the ideas that were passing between the First and Tara. One hell of a good metaphor, whoever came up with it.

Faith nodded. "I can tell your story, but I can't use your words."

The First leapt at her, but Faith did not move. The original Slayer faded as she flew towards Faith, and disappeared completely before she came close enough to touch.

Someone tapped on Faith's shoulder. She spun around to see a strange looking man. He was balding slightly and he wore odd circular glass. He was holding an open briefcase up, showing Faith the contents. Several square pieces of processed cheese were arranged strangely inside it. "I came to show you my merchandise," he said.

Suddenly Faith remembered every other part of the dream where he had appeared, including earlier when she had been too preoccupied to notice him. She turned to Tara and smiled. "If I just kill him, will it affect my redemption?"

Faith woke again in her cell. Young Penthouse Reader was still on duty, and it was dark outside. She sighed and climbed off the floor, back onto her bunk.