[Wednesday, March 8th, 7:30 am]:

~Click-clack, click-clack~

Damn that infernal noise! Two weeks on various trains, and that stupid clickety-clackety noise is about to drive me fuckin' INSANE! It keeps interfering with all my soul-searching. Not to mention my guilt trips. Screw it. Next stop, that's it! No more train-hopping. Hmm, hitch-hiking? No, oh no. Absolutely not Faith, you aren't gonna let yourself do that again! Oh man, remembering the way I felt last week when I did. Ugh.

It wasn't fear. Not fear of the man who stopped on the side of the highway, anyway. When I got in that guy's cheesy sports car, I just knew. He was totally harmless. I had no clue who he was, what he was about, nothing. It didn't matter though. Whoever he may be, I knew he posed no threat to me. Zelch. I could crush his windpipe if he tried anything, or break his neck. Yep, just as easy as pie, in the blink of an eye. Without breaking a sweat.

Without giving it a second thought.

That thought is what scared me. It was just one of a million times I wanted to shed my own skin and throw it in a dumpster somewhere. God, I don't wanna be the "evil psycho bitch" anymore. It's hurt so many people. Before that little 8 month nap (a.k.a. the coma), and the day I spent in Buffy's body, living her life, discovering that people can actually care about each other. Imagine that, huh? Before that, I wouldn't have cared. I'd maim and destroy just for kicks. Now though, man, it's gonna destroy me if I don't start keepin' a leash on that part of me. Whichever part (parts?) that might be.

Oh, finally, the train is stopping. It's given me too damn much time to think. Hell, I'll figure out the parts that need leashing later. Gotta get out of here, and into there. I wonder, where is there exactly? Where am I?

Time to go find out.

********

[Meanwhile, across town, in the apartment of Amy and Maria DeLuca]:

~buzzzbuzzzbuzzzbuzzz~

"Okay, okay, I get the point. Shut up already!," I mumble as I flip the 'off' switch on my alarm.

I slowly begin opening my eyes. Ugh. Sunlight, bad. Very bad. It's too freakin' early in the morning for things like that, glaring right in my eyes. Mmm okay, roll, stretch, oh yes. That feels good. Wait! No, no way does that alarm clock say 7:30! How the hell? I set it for 6:30, I know I did! Stupid, cheap hunk of plastic. Hell, I have to be there by 8:00!

"SHIT! Shit, shit, and double-shit!!".

Okay, that helped, a little. Now, breathe, relax, and -most importantly- get out of bed!

[15 minutes later, after a quick bathroom trip, a closet run, and a multitude of shoes and clothes flying through the air]:

"Oh great! Where did I leave my backpack?".

Oh, there, yes. There it is. Okay, check. Got my keys? Check. Am I wearing deodorant? Check. Underwear? Pants? Umm, yeah, check. Makeup? Eh, I'll throw some on in the car.

********

[7:53 am]:

Jeez, I think I had to restrain myself from kissin' that gas station when I came across it. After who-knows-how-long in a train car without "facilities", I thought I was gonna burst. Damn! What feels better? Emptying your bladder, or having an orgasm? Right now, I'd say that's a toss up.

So, thanks to the gas station attendant that kept staring at my tits, I know I'm in Roswell, New Mexico. Figures. Can't land in some nice, no-name place. No, Roswell, Area 51 and all that. Trippy, to say the least. Well if I run into any little green men, I'm sure they'll be nicer than, say, vampires.

Might as well check the place out. Where does one go in Roswell? I suppose sticking to Main Street would be the best way to find out. I guess that's what I'll do then.

Hey, up ahead.. is that?

"Oh god".

No way. I did not just see what I thought I saw. A short chick with long blond hair, walking about 50 feet ahead of me. That walk, that hair... Buffy?! Hell, she's turning around! I'm sure as shit not sticking around to find out.

"Buh-bye," I mutter as I make a frantic turn right.

Not noticing, or too freaked to notice, that I'm walking into the street. Definitely not looking both ways, as my bitch of a dead mother never taught me to do.

Yep, right in the middle of the street, oblivious to the little red car that's heading my way.

********

"Okay, what else can go wrong?" I groan, behind the wheel of my little red Volkswagen.

In my haste to finish getting ready for school, brilliant me dropped the tube of Cherry Chapstick that I got out of my purse.

Now here I am, trying in vain to search for the fallen lipbalm, without taking my eyes off the road. Giving up I duck down and reach for the stray tube that is now trying to roll under my foot. Just for a brief moment. Not noticing that some brunette just darted into the road ahead of me.

Not until it's too late, do I lift my head and see the lady in the street. Startled as hell and scared to death, I scream. I scream, and I stomp my foot on the brake. Oh god, I can't stop in time!

~Wham~

My car slams into her body. She is thrown about 10 feet, landing rear-end first. Then she sort of bounces a few times and stops, laying on her back.

This can not be happening.

"Please don't let her be dead, please don't let her be dead," I chant over and over as I throw the car into park, and scramble out. I run towards her, and kneel down beside her.

She is so still.

I fight down the bile rising in my throat, and press my fingers against her neck. Praying to every good and kind deity I can think of to let there actually be a pulse.

Yes! I can feel the thump-thump of blood coursing through her veins. Thankyouthankyouthankyou for not dying on me.

"Hey, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?".

Please open your eyes. I don't care if you look at me with all the hate in the world. I probably deserve that. Just open them. Come on, come on.

********

I feel the blackness that surrounded me lift away. I'm all too aware of the sunlight beating against my eyelids, making them glow red. So damn bright. I don't want to open my eyes, don't want to let all that brightness in. Oh, but I have to. Someone's talking to me. Who's there? Last thing I remember, I was trying to get away from somebody. Who was it? Then a flash of memory hits me… blond hair, walking down the street. Buffy!

My eyes fly open.

"Good! Very good, you've got eyeballs!" exclaims a blond girl hovering over me. "Can you move? Can you feel your legs?".

A blond girl. With short hair, not long; and definitely not Buffy. Good. I don't think I could have run away if it had been Buffy. Not the way I'm feeling right now.

~Groan~

Every inch of my body is making its presence known. Yes, I can feel my legs. I can feel everything. Is that actually a good thing?

I manage to shake my head "yes". This seems to make the girl quite happy, whoever the hell she is.

"Uh, where am I?" I say, not liking at all the way my own voice sounds in my head. So quiet, so small.

"You're in Roswell. Which is in New Mexico… you know, in the United States. Can you tell me who the President is?".

"Yeah, I know all of that. Where is here? Why am I laying in the street?" I respond, annoyed. "What happened?"

"Well I was driving and I just looked down for a second and then there you were right in front of my car so I slammed on my brakes but it was too late to avoid you, so 'smack', I ran right into you and I… oh god I'm so so sorry," she explains, all in the span of about two seconds.

Making my head spin. "Damn girl, take a breathe," I tell her. She gives me a relieved, goofy smile. I make myself sit up to get a better look.

Fuck! Bad move, I think I must have shattered my ass or something.

I decide to try and roll onto my side instead. Screw the pain that screams from, what seems like, every nerve ending I have as I move. At least I *can* move. Slayer strength sure can come in handy.

I lift my head to get a good look at the girl. Wow, what a face. Maybe she's not so annoying after all. I'm confused. Shouldn't I want to be pummeling her right about now? That's what I expect from myself. She did, after all, mow me down with her car. Hey wait. No, that's not fair. I'm the idiot that was standing in the middle of the street, like a scared, dumb rabbit… running from Blondie of all things! Ugh, stop thinking about that!

I shake my head, as if that will help clear the unwanted thoughts. Then I take another glance at the stranger before me.

The look in her eyes makes me feel much better. There is so much warmth and concern there. For me. Holy shit! I think it was worth getting hit by a car to get to see that look in someone's face. Well, almost anyway.

********

I didn't kill her, but it seems like I definitely broke her. Broken is okay. What is broken can be fixed. She's able to move, and she's talking. This is, um, this is good.

A weight is lifted from my chest, and I can breathe again. Then the reality of the situation hits me full force, and it starts to happen. I feel tears welling up in my eyes. My throat tightens. Uh-oh, prepare the floodgates!

The girl doesn't seem to like this at all. "Hey, come on, don't cry. Please don't cry," she pleads, "I'm going to be fine, just fine… oh, wait, are you hurt. Is that what's wrong?".

That sidetracks the tears threatening to spillover. Am I hurt? The thought never even occurred to me until now. I look down at myself seeing if I can spot any injuries. I can't tell, my eyes are now too watery to notice anything. My head kind of hurts though. Maybe I hit it. Maybe not. I don't remember. I wipe my eyes. Then subconsciously, my hand travels to the right side of my forehead, cradling it.

She notices, and tells me to move my hand so she can take a look. I obey.

"You have a scratch on your head, maybe a bump too" she informs me.

No big whoop. I can handle a scratch and a bump. I could use a couple of Aspirin, and a big whiff of Cyprus oil to calm my frazzled nerves right about now. Other than that though, I'm fine. I look at her, about to tell her I'm okay, when I notice the sudden change in her expression. Not a good change either. She's looking at something behind me. I turn to see, but notice nothing. Then I move my head and look to the right of the newly-dented Volkswagen. Uh-oh.

There's a police car. Down at the next intersection, waiting for the light to change. I think my car blocks any view he might have of us lounging in the street. Well, I hope anyway. What if he turns left? Oh shit. This is so not good.

Oh, miss, please don't tell me want to inform the police. The last thing I need is Sheriff Valenti having another excuse to nose around in my life.

"Do you want to involve the cops in this?" I quickly ask her. Please say no.

Judging by the look of fear that crosses her face, I'd definitely say that's a no.

"Here, let me help you up. Give me your hand".

"Wait," I tell her. "If we get up now, and he's looking this way, he'll see us. That is, if the car stopped in the middle of the street doesn't get his attention first. Let's just wait. If he stops, I'll think of somethin' to tell him."

Okay, whoever's in charge up there, save my ass. Don't let the copper spot us. Don't let him turn left.

With that thought, the lights change.

The police car goes straight ahead, the hell away from us. "All right, score one for the Gipper," I mutter.

"Okay, *now* give me your hand" the blond commands.

Why do I get the feeling this is gonna hurt like a mother fucker?

I do as she asks, well tells actually, and brace myself. With her help, I slowly start to get up. Every inch of my body protests the entire way.

Once I'm up, she cautiously let's go of me; but keeps her hands near and ready just in case. She seems afraid I won't be able to stand on my own. She gives me the once over to make sure I can stay vertical, and then walks to the car. She opens the backdoor and motions for me to get in. I move in that direction, imagining I must look like a cowboy who spent way too damn long in the saddle. Or maybe a whore who spent way too long on a cowboy.

She holds the door open as wide as it will go, and I eventually manage to get in and lay on my side.

I hope to hell there aren't any speed bumps between here and wherever.

********

Once the girl lays down, I shut the door and make my way to the driver's seat. In the back of my head I worry that she may bleed on the upholstery, and instantly feel bad about the thought. There's nothing she can do about that. Beside, I can probably get Max or Isabelle to "clean it" if I have to. I'll definitely need one of them to fix the fresh dent in my mother's car.

Once I start driving away, I nervously ask, "Do you need to go to the hospital, or something?".

"No! No hospital. I hate hospitals. I'll be okay. Besides, they'd have to report what happened to the police. Cops and hospitals equal bad for me".

"Okay, I'll take you to my place then, and break out the emergency kit to fix you up. As long as you're sure that will be enough".

"I'm very, very sure," she assures me, and then after a brief pause, "Not that I'm not grateful, but I'm just curious… why didn't you want to notify the cops? Is it because of insurance, money, what? 'Cause you don't need to worry about that".

"Um, well, it's kind of hard to explain. The Sheriff has a campaign of harassment going, against my friends and me. He suspects my friends of… some stuff, so he hassles us. Every freakin' chance he gets. I don't want to give him any opportunities. Plus, when he's not busy stalking us, he's trying to get into my mom's pants. I'm not really sure which is worse. Anyway, what is it *you* have against cops?".

"Let's just say I'm allergic to pigs" she says.

I laugh until I snort at hearing this, which embarrasses me to no end.

About the time the redness in my cheeks fades, we arrive home. How odd, I was just here about 20 minutes ago, yet it seems like decades.

I turn off the ignition and get out, hoping that it won't be any more difficult for the injured girl to get out of the car than it was for her to get in.

Fortunately, it's not too horribly bad. With a little help from me getting up, she's able to remove herself from the vehicle, wincing periodically along the way.

We then make our way to the apartment. I can hear an audible sigh of relief from her when she realizes I'm heading for one of the first floor, stair-free, apartments.

I unlock the front door and swing it open, then step back and let her enter. She waits in the living room while I shut and lock the door, then gives me a questioning look.

"Come on, we'll doctor you in the kitchen".

********

Leaning on my hip to prop myself against the kitchen counter, I wait while the blond, the very cute blond, searches for the emergency med kit from the cabinet above the frig. She's standing on a kitchen chair so she can reach. Giving me a lovely view of her ass, nestled nice and snug in a pair of denim capris. Very nice. It seems getting hit by a car did no harm to the 'dirty old man' in me.

After wading through myriad Tupperware containers, she finds what she's looking for. She hops off the chair and brings it over to me.

"I can't believe I haven't asked until now, but what's your name?" she says as she sets the kit on the counter.

I debate whether or not to tell her my real name, and decide it can't really hurt for her to know.

"Faith".

"Well, nice to meet you Faith. I'm Maria. Take off your jacket, and let's see what kind of damage I've done".

While taking off the garment, I tell her, "Ya know, I'm the doof that was standing in the road. So technically, it's the damage *I've* done. Ya got that, Maria?".

"That won't stop me from feeling guilty though, you know. Why were you in the street anyhow?".

"Um, I don't remember," I lie.

"Oh. Okay, since you landed on your butt first, I'm going to take a wild guess and say that's damage central. Lift up your top and let me check your back".

I decide to just take of the black tank-shirt. I throw it on the floor, and then turn to face the cabinet. Then I lift up my hair so she can get a look. She moves to stand directly behind me.

"Oh man, you're covered in bruises. Not too many scratches though. You can thank your leather jacket for that, I believe."

"Thank you leather jacket".

"Very funny, hand me the ointment".

I take the tube from the kit on the table, and hand it to her. Weird, everything she tells me to do, I actually do without hesitation. Ma must be spinning in her grave.

While she goes about putting the ointment on the scratches she finds, she asks, "Are you new in town, or just doing the touristy thing?"

"Neither. I've been taking a random trip across the U.S., and just kind of wound up here. I got into town, like, ten minutes before your car convinced me to lay down and test out the concrete".

"Are you going to stay long?"

"Highly unlikely. Well, I don't know. I'm pretty much broke, and I need to find a way to make some dough for bus fare. So I might have to stick around for a bit. I don't suppose there's anyplace around here I could make cash quick?".

"Nope. Not legally. Hand me some bandages please".

********

She places a few bandages in my outstretched hand.

"Are there any nightclubs around here? Maybe I could offer them my services," she asks.

"By services, do you mean, like, stripping?".

"No, like security services. A bouncer or something."

"You? A bouncer?! Aren't you kind of… small?"

"Yessss," she tells me, as if she's had to repeat the same thing many times before. "But small and powerless don't necessarily go hand in hand. You'd be surprised what I'm capable of".

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or any…" I start to say.

She interrupts with, "You didn't".

As I'm placing the bandages on her, it occurs to me how muscular she feels. Every place I touch on her back is firm, hard. That's so weird. She *looks* so… so normal. Now that I think about it, the accident didn't harm her near as much as it could have. Should have. Makes me wonder exactly what she *is* capable of.

"You know, I was expecting you to be more hurt. When I saw you sailing through the air, I kind of figured you were either dead or maimed. How is that possible?" I ask.

"It's in my genes, I guess. A high threshold for pain. Resilient as a cockroach" she answers.

"Lucky you".

"Yeah, luck is my middle name". Really more like shit-out-of-luck, but who wants to get technical? "Are you done bandaging my back? I should go check out my ass".

"Yeah, do you want me to go get you a mirror or something?" I ask, trying really hard to suppress the chuckle that's trying to escape from my throat.

She turns around and looks at me, her only reply an "uh-huh".

I lead her to the bathroom, warning her about the tacky green tile therein. Once there, I put the med kit on the counter and dig around in the sink cabinet until I find my handheld mirror.

"This and the full-length mirror on the door should give you a good view" I tell her, and begin making my exit.

"You're right," she says, while looking around the bathroom and smirking. "This is wicked tacky. I like that".

I smile and leave her to examine herself.

While she's doing that, I head back into the kitchen and decide to call the school. Gee, I feel one of those 24 bugs coming on.

Funny thing, standing in front of a mirror and dabbing ointment on one's black and blue butt, it ain't near as much fun as it sounds. My entire lower body is covered in bruises. Maybe Maria's sort of right. I am lucky. Well, at this point in time anyway. I should probably have a couple of broken limbs, a fractured tailbone, or something. Instead, I look (and feel) like I've had one helluva spanking. The pain, I welcome it. Focusing on the physical aches gives me a break. Some time out from dwelling in my psyche. Because frankly, what I find there scares the shit out of me.

I put my leather pants back on, with much less grace than usual, and wonder what I'm going to do now. I haven't got a clue. I stand there, staring at my reflection in the mirror, trying to decide.

That reflection isn't being too kind to me. What I see is a pale, greasy-haired girl in a dirty bra and torn up pants. A filthy stranger with dark circles under her eyes. God, I look like death warmed over.

Ugh.

I glare at the reflection, hit the light switch, and leave the bathroom. Walking down the hall, the most wonderful aroma invades my nostrils. Mmm, food. Food is good. My stomach rumbles in agreement. When was the last time I had a real meal anyway?

As I enter the kitchen, I see Maria, standing at the toaster. She turns around and gives me a small smile.

"How did it go? How bad is it?" She asks.

"It's bad, but not terrible. I don't think I'll be able to sit down for a while, but I'll be five by five again in no time".

"Uh, okay. I'm heating up some waffles. You think you could manage to eat?".

"Yeah, I'll give it a shot," I reply, trying as much as I can to be nonchalant and not drool all over myself.

She goes to the frig to get out some butter and syrup. That makes me think... "Hey, I left that stuff in the bathroom. You should probably check out that scratch on your head" I tell her.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. I'll do it later. Do you want some juice?".

"That's cool. Do you live here with your parents, or what?".

She sets a carton of orange juice on the counter, and looks at me. "You're half right. It's just my mom and me".

Oops. Note to self, don't ask so damn many questions. All I can think to say is, "oh".

********

I really don't feel like telling her that my dad walked out when I was six, so I'm quite relieved when the waffles all pop up. I grab some glasses and plates, and fill them both. I hand her a plate and set her juice on the counter next to her. Then I sit on the counter and butter my waffles. As I always do when I feel uncomfortable, I start gabbing.

"Mom's in Albuquerque right now. She's got a friend, Linda, who lives there. So they'll go shopping, have dinner, and all that. She probably won't be home until late this evening".

"Did she take off work just to do out-of-town shopping? Must be nice".

"No, she's self-employed. Actually one of her main reasons for going, other than seeing Linda, is to stock up on supplies. This time, it's a rubber and vinyl run".

Faith's eyebrows widen as she asks, "Uh-huhhhh, exactly what does you mother do?".

"She makes novelties and sells them around town" I tell her. Then I witness her eyebrows rising, until they're just about in her hairline. "Oh, no! Not *that* kind of novelties. She makes toy aliens and stuff".

She looks disappointed and starts munching on her waffles again.

I get this image in my head, of Mom shilling dildos door-to-door. . Okay, that's not exactly something I want to be picturing. Ick.

I decide a change of subject would be very nice right about now.

"Faith, how old are you?"

"Seventeen," she answers.

"You don't go to school?"

"Nope, dropped out".

"Any reason why you're taking a trip across the country?".

"Just seemed like a good idea".

My, isn't she just a fount of information? "Do you know what you're going to do now?".

"Uh-uh. All I know right now is that these waffles are damn tasty".

"You're easy to please aren't you?" I joke. She shrugs.

"Would you mind if I washed my clothes in the sink real quick?" she asks me. "I'm pretty sure they could use some cleaning".

"No way".

She begins staring at her feet, and says, "fine, sorry I asked".

"What I meant was, no, you don't need to wash them in the sink. I'll throw them in the washing machine for you. You can borrow some of my clothes while you're waiting".

"I'm probably as dirty as my stuff is. I don't want to mess up your clothes".

"Don't be silly," I tell her. "Look, if you want, you can take a shower".

At my mention of the word shower, her eyes light up. She really is easy to please.

"That'd be nice" she says, and then shoves the rest of her breakfast into her mouth.

I laugh. "I take it you want that shower a.s.a.p., huh? Okay, the towels are in the linen closet. Around here, we're big on aromatherapy, so you have about a dozen shampoos, shower gels and soaps to choose from".

"I won't be too long" she says.

"Take your time. A warm shower might help your muscles loosen up. Why don't you finish your juice, and I'll go get you some clothes, 'kay?".

"Yes ma'am" she says with a smirk, as I leave my spot on the counter.

********

I gulp down the rest of my juice while Maria is gone, and then pick up the tank top I threw on the floor earlier.

She comes back in with a folded pile of clothes, and hands them to me. I ask her where I should put my stuff, and she takes the tank from my hand.

"Just put whatever else you want washed in front of the bathroom door, and I'll come and get it".

"Will do" I say. I start walking out of the kitchen, and then pause. I give a quick, awkward "thank you", and then start moving again.

In the bathroom, I hurry out of my clothes and boots as fast as possible. Why did I have to be wearing leather, I wonder. It can't be washed with the rest of my clothes. Oh well, clean underwear will be good enough for me.

I open the door and set my tank top, socks, bra, and panties down in front of it. Then I close it, and go to the linen closet. Taking out a fluffy blue towel, I set it on the closed toilet lid. Then I hussle as fast as I can into the tub. For the past two weeks I've cleaned up as best I could in gas stations, using the awful pink handsoap and scratchy paper towels. This tub is just about the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on, ugly green tile and all.

Making sure that the curtain is closed as well as possible, I turn the hot water knob. At first, the water is cool as it runs over my fingertips. Soon it is wonderfully warm. I add some cold water to the mix, turn the shower knob and step back. As welcome as the cascade of water is, I don't want it pelting my back.

Closing my eyes, I stand still for a while, letting that wet warmth run down my head. This is bliss.

Hmm, I wonder what sort of goodies they have in here. Let's see... shampoo first. Okay, we got Freesia, Honeysuckle, Spring Rain, oh wait. Hello, Vanilla Bourbon. Perfect.

My eyes roll into the back of my head as I lather the shampoo into my hair. Damn that smells good. Makes me wish I had more hair to wash. I follow with conditioner and then shower gel, both Vanilla Bourbon. After rinsing and lingering under the water a while longer, I reluctantly decide to turn the shower off and step back into reality.

Out of the shower, I grab the towel. After drying off and taking another look at my beaten ass, I decide to apply more ointment. Then I check out the pile of clothes Maria lent me. What do we have here? A pair of denim shorts, a pair of red plaid boxers, a pair of panties, and a t-shirt with a cartoon alien dressed like John Travolta in "Saturday Night Fever"... I must say, that's pretty creepy. I opt for just the t-shirt and the boxers, figuring the denim might be too rough for my gluteus patheticus right now. As for the panties she left me, I can't bring myself to wear them. I wouldn't mind seeing what *she* looks like in 'em though.

Down girl. Thoughts like that only lead to frustration. I don't need to be adding to my problems.

********

I'm flipping through channels, finding nothing but morning talk shows and reruns of bad '70s melodramas, when Faith returns from the shower. I'm sure she's just loving the clothes I loaned her. Few can appreciate the fine art of alien pop culture. Myself included.

"Don't you look spiffy?" I tease her.

She makes a mock-horror expression as she looks down at the shirt, and says, "Yeah, it's real... quaint".

"You feeling any better".

"Well, in the sense that cleaner is always better, yeah" she answers.

"I could get you some Aspirin or Tylenol if you want".

"Would that come with another glass of juice?" she inquires.

"I think I can swing that".

"Yup, start swingin' then," she replies.

"All rightie. Here's the remote. Good luck finding anything decent to watch though" I say as I get up.

"Actually, I make it a point to never watch *anything* decent," she tells me with a sarcastic grin. Then she proceeds to take up residence on the couch.

"Riiiight" I say, with a smirk of my own. "Back in a sec".

Walking towards the bathroom, I hear the phone in my bedroom start ringing. I bet it's Liz.

"Hello?"

"Maria, why are you at home?!".

"Hey Liz. I called the school and told them I was sick, so don't say otherwise to anyone okay? I had a bit of an... occurrence on my way to school. I'll tell you about it at work".

"At work? That's like, hours away. Tell me now".

"I'd rather not tell you about it over the phone,' cause you might freak, and I'd rather be there in case you do".

"Maria! You you can't just get all cryptic and tell me you don't want me to freak. 'Cause now I *am* starting to freak out. Come on, tell me now," Liz pleads.

"Sorry, can't. Just relax, take some deep breaths, and tell yourself that it's nothing to fret about. You need to get to class, and I need to go. See you at work, okay?".

I can hear a long sigh from Liz before she finally says, "Okay".

I tell her bye and then hang up.

I go in to the bathroom, get a bottle of Tylenol, and am about to leave. Then I remember to check my head and see if it needs tending to.

Eh, it's not too bad. I put some ointment and a small bandage on it. Then make my way back to the living room.

"Sorry that took so…" I begin saying, when I see Faith curled up on her side, fast asleep.

I set the bottle of pills on the coffee table. Looking for the remote, I notice that Faith has it clutched to her chest, like a hi-tech security blanket or something. Rather than risk waking her, I walk to the television and hit the power switch.

Now what?

~Sigh~ Might as well actually do some homework.

********

"Faith. Faith, wake up for a sec" I hear a voice say.

"Mmm, whaddya want?".

"I want you to open your eyes, so I know you're actually awake".

"Huh?" I slowly open my eyes.

"Hello," says Maria.

"Hey, I guess I dozed off".

"Yeah, I'd say so. I just wanted to tell you, I have to leave for work. If you get hungry, you're welcome to anything in the kitchen. If you need anything, for any reason, call me. My work and cell phone numbers are right by the phone".

"What time is it?" I ask.

"It's 3:15".

3:15! How is that possible? I just closed my eyes for a minute.

"The Tylenol is right there on the coffee table. Anything else you need before I go?".

"Uh, no. I'm fine".

"Okay. Oh wait, I get off at nine. Mom shouldn't beat me home".

I nod my head. She says "bye" and leaves.

Now what?

For a brief moment, I consider staying until she gets home. Then common sense returns. I need to go while I have the chance. I have no idea where to. All I know is staying here won't work. Maria is nice and all, but she's too damn inquisitive. Besides, a person like me has no business amongst "nice" people. I'm a ticking time bomb.

With that in mind, I get up. Next to the Tylenol, I see my clothes. Clean, folded, and waiting for me.

I get dressed in my own uniform again, and go into the kitchen. Might as well make some provisions. Who knows when I'll get another chance to eat? I make a few peanut butter sandwiches and pack them into a bag.

Bag in hand, I turn the front door knob to lock and make my exit.

********

As soon as I step into the back room to change into my uniform, Liz is all over me.

"Okay, spill it. What's up?" she says. She's got that look on her face. Oh man, I hate that look. The serious/annoyed combo. With the eyes that start to bulge, seeming to say "I'll die if you don't tell me"; and the lips, set into a firm line, that say "and I don't mind taking you with me!". I always feel like a five-year-old caught peeing in the fish tank when she gives me that look.

Still, I can't resist.

"And a hearty hello to you too," I respond, with a big, cheery smile.

"Ma-riii-aaaa" she threatens.

"All right. All right. I'll tell you, *if* you promise not to have a stroke, or give me a lecture, or anything. Promise?"

"Yes".

"Now, I have to start at the beginning, so don't interrupt okay?".

She nods her head.

"I set my alarm, I swear I did, for 6:30 am. It didn't go off until 7:30..."

"Wait, *this* is why you didn't come to school? Because you woke up late?"

"Liz! By "don't interrupt' I believe I meant "do not interrupt me as I'm telling you the story'. So shush".

"I wasn't interrupting, I was *clarifying*..."

"Fine, whatever, don't clarify me. Anyway, the alarm goes off at 7:30, I make a mad dash to get dressed, and hop in the car. I was attempting to finish getting ready en route, and then it happened… I dropped my Cherry Chapstick on the floor".

"That's the big thing?! Big deal".

"Elizabeth Parker! You're supposed to be doing the mute thing. No more warnings, Missy" I say, in my best authoritarian voice.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll shut up. Continue," she says.

"Okay, so I drop it on the floor. I try and get it without looking down. Doesn't work. It starts making its merry way towards my foot. You know, the funny thing is, I was afraid it would cause a driving hazard if it did. So I'm thinking, 'I'd better get it'. Which I do. I bend down, for a sec, and when I look up, I see a person in the road. Right in front of me. I hit the brakes, but it's too late. Boom. Crash. Smack."

"Yeah, you're tellin' me. It was terrifying. I thought she was dead". "But she wasn't, I mean, she's... not, right?".

"Right. She's banged up, but alive and kickin'." I assure her.

"Maria, the police. What did you tell the police?".

"Nothing".

"Good. No, wait, not good. That's called a hit and run, you know? As in, illegal".

"Yeah, but I ran *with* her, I didn't just leave her there. She didn't want to involve the cops, and I didn't either. So we didn't".

"Well, where is she?" Liz asks.

"She's at my place".

"Okay, *who* is she? Do we know her?".

"No, she's new in town. Her name's Faith".

"Faith what"?

"Um, I don't know. All I got was Faith".

"Why didn't she want to involve the cops?"

"I don't really know that either. She wasn't specific; but is that a bad thing? None of us needs the cops sniffing around about this, on top of everything else".

"Wait, Maria, how can you be sure she isn't working with the police? Or the government? She could be a spy or something!".

"A spy!! Don't you think that's a tad outrageously paranoid? Why would she willingly get herself smacked around by a moving vehicle? If she is a spy, there'd be much less painful ways of making an introduction. Besides, aren't spies supposed to be covert?".

"Not always. You know, infiltrating a group and all that. You're right though, I'm being way too paranoid. I should meet her, *then* get paranoid".

"Liz, you should meet her, and then put aside the conspiracy theory. You can come by with me after work, *if* you promise not to grill her or anything".

"Fine, I'll be covert".

I give her a look of my own.

"Oh, all right," she relents. "I'll be on my best, non-suspicious behavior".

********

It seems like I've been wandering around for a few millennia, with my stupid sack of sandwiches. I was hoping that a walk around town would give me an idea of what to do. So far though, nada. I'm still clueless. What does one do when they have no money? I might have to walk around until nightfall, and then find a place I can sleep for a while.

Wait, what do we have here?

The Roswell Public Library. Perfect. A place I can hang in for a while. For free.

I never really thought of myself as the type to willingly enter a library. Well, except for the Sunnydale High one, but I never really thought of it as a library. It was just the place we used to gather and hatch our plots to stop the enemy. Until I became the enemy, anyway. Then I kind of stopped showing up. Here I am though, opening the door and walking into a place of knowledge.

What do I do now? Read? Eh, maybe later, if I get desperate. Find a cozy corner, and take another snooze? Yeah, I'm sure the librarians would just looove that.

Oh oh oh! I do believe a light bulb just popped up over my head. I see a bank of computers. I'll get on the internet. From what I've heard, you can waste hours on the internet.

I walk over to the computer area, very glad that they are all on raised-counter platforms, and not at desks you have to sit at. I'm sure whoever designed it this way wasn't thinking of my comfort - the idea seems to be to discourage comfort actually, I guess so no one overstays their welcome - whatever, I'm grateful for it.

I pick a computer and jiggle the mouse to make the ugly flying saucer screensaver disappear. Then I stare at the monitor for a minute, wondering where it is I want to waste all this time at. I have no idea. Oh wait, yes I do. Might as well find out what I can about Roswell. How do I do that? Okay, let's see. Ah, a search.

Damn, 112,364 sites found for the name "Roswell". And all the so-called top choices seem to be about either the ufo crash that made the town famous, the X-Files, or weird conspiracy crap. Like I give a shit. Hmm, okay let's try "Roswell New Mexico"... yes, much better. Here we go, hotel and motel listings.

This sucks. This really, really sucks. Even the cheap roach motels cost upwards of $20 a night. How can I possibly make enough money, like pronto, to get a room *and* save up for bus fare? I can't. Not doing anything legit anyway.

I could steal some cash.

No! Faith, you stupid bitch, why did you even let yourself think that?!

If I resort to stealing this time, what's to stop me from sliding the rest of the way down the slippery slope? Nothing, that's what. The monster I'm trying so hard to bury will claw it's way to the surface again. It's all got to end. Like a recovering alcoholic who can never pick up another drink, I've gotta stay on the right side of legal.

How do I go about doing that?

Look for job listings, that's what. What does Roswell offer on its employment smorgasbord?

Hmm, there are openings for sales clerks, a retirement home janitor, a grocery store manager, waitressing, oh... bingo! A bouncer is needed at some club called Dementia. Ding ding ding, we have a winner.

The want ad instructs "inquire within, between 12 p.m. and 5 p.m.," so what time is it now? Of course, it's 5:30. Figures. I make a print-out of the listing, and then start looking for an online map of the city. I'm a little tired of walking around aimlessly.

I print out a map of directions, fold my papers, and decide I've had enough computer time. For lack of anything better to do, I head for the stacks.

Scanning the shelves, a book in the mystery section catches my eye. "Sex and Salmonella," by Kathleen Taylor. With a name like that, how can I not pick it up?

********

I'm standing at the register, handing Mr. Never-Tips-Enough his change, when I see Isabelle walking into the Crashdown. I smile at Cheapskate and tell him to have a nice day. Then quickly head toward the soda counter, where Is always likes to sit when she comes in alone... which actually isn't all that often for Ms. Social Butterfly.

"Hey Isabelle, where's the entourage?" I tease.

"I gave them the night off. Are you going to keep quizzing me, or can I give you my order now?" Isabelle volleys back.

"I suppose I'll let you order. What'll it be?".

"A Blue Moon burger and a strawberry shake".

"Coming up. Hey, here's a wacky idea. How would you like that meal totally free?".

Liz walks up behind the counter and starts filling water glasses.

"What's the catch?" Isabelle asks me.

"Catch to what?" Liz says. "What's up?".

"Nothing," I tell them both. Then to Is, "You just fix the dent I got in my car, and I'll pay for your meal".

"Hmm, throw in an order of fries and I might agree".

"Done. So, it's a deal?".

"Yeah, sure".

"I'll be back in a few," I tell Liz. Looking at Isabelle, I say "come on, you can do it while you're waiting for your food". I walk over to the kitchen window and turn in her order, then turn to see if she's coming. She's not.

"What's with the rush?" she asks me.

"No time like the present," I tell her, and follow it up with a toothy smile.

Isabelle seems annoyed, but gets up. "Fine. Lead the way".

I walk to the back and she follows. Heading out the rear entrance, I tell her, "Now keep in mind, it looks bad".

She doesn't say anything, just walks to my car.

"Maria, what did you *do*?" she exclaims.

"I promise I'll tell you, after you fix it".

She gives me a suspicious look, and then says, "fine, but I reserve the right to put the dent *back* in your car if I don't like what you tell me".

"That's fair. Okay, go ahead. Do that voodoo that you do so well".

Isabelle waves her hand over the hood of the car, and closes her eyes. After a moment of concentration, the damage vanishes completely.

She opens her eyes and looks at me. "What did you do?".

"I sort of ran into a girl today" I tell her sheepishly.

"Excuse me?! Say goodbye to your shiny, new hood, I'm taking it back".

Isabelle starts raising her hand.

"Wait! I can explain. First though, let me just inform you... If you do, I can honestly tell my mother that *you* are the one that put that dent there".

She glares at me. Through clinched teeth she says, "you sneaky little...".

"Yeah, I know," I interrupt her, "but I'm desperate. Please Isabelle, come inside and I'll tell you what happened".

After a moments pause, she says "okay, but it'd better be good".

********

"Miss, the library is closing in ten minutes. Make your final selections and check them out at the front," says the woman standing above me, in a tone that could never be confused with polite.

I look up, about to say something. The sight of the old librarian leaves me temporarily speechless. Her lips are covered in bright pink lipstick, and it's obvious that nature didn't make those lips that big. She's drawn herself a new lip line, and not very well. I wonder if she has a second job as a rodeo clown.

I finally manage to get out an "okay". After a second's pause I add, "I think you've got something stuck to your face, right here," making a circle around my own lips to demonstrate. "You might wanna think about wiping that off, huh?". She glares at me, then walks away. What a touchy broad. She should be glad I didn't do what I really wanted to do. Put her in a headlock and wipe that crap off myself. Fortunately for her, I'm trying really hard to be less of a bitch these days.

Finishing the last 3 pages of my book, I then set it on the seat next to me. I pick up my sack from the floor, and get up. Making my way towards the exit, Painted Lady spots me again. She gives me the stink-eye. I give her a feral smile, and she quickly turns and starts walking in my opposite direction.

Entering the outdoors, the blackness of nights surrounds me. Yet again, I'm unsure of where to go and what to do next. I should really be used to that. It's been that way, pretty much, my entire life.

I decide to go left, and walk until inspiration hits. Looking around as I amble along, I find nothing inspiring in any of the storefronts and restaurants that all seem to be cloned from one original. If the street names didn't keep differing, I'd wonder if I had accidentally made a circle.

Soon, the commercial buildings taper off, and it's residential areas I'm walking through. All the houses, lined up together in huddles, seem to be mocking me. Reminding me that I'm alone, that I'm unfit for human consumption.

I'm regretting leaving Maria's apartment. Not just the apartment, I have to admit. I miss her too, a little. The one person who's looked at me without hate in her eyes, and I sneak out while she's gone. Without a note to explain, or to thank her. Oh well, I'm sure it's really no big deal to her. I was just an interruption in her normally scheduled program. She'll probably be relieved when she finds that I'm gone and out of her hair.

As I come upon an intersection, I stop and notice that there is a park. After waiting for a few cars to pass, I cross the street towards it.

I travel past the park benches and small pond that decorate the park's entrance. Entering a playground area, I scan the equipment. Over to my right, there's a miniature fort, with two slides extending from the front. It looks big enough to lay down in. The fort is topped with a plastic canopy, which is supported by a post in each corner. Well, at least I can say I'll have a roof over my head.

I begin climbing the little ladder, gritting my teeth with each wave of pain that hits me. Nearing the top rung, I set my bag down inside, then crawl in. I lay down on my side and tuck my right arm under my head. I close my eyes, hoping I'll be able to fall asleep.

No such luck. Unwanted thoughts keep swimming in my head. I open my eyes and stare ahead, at the semi-wall in front of me. It's so dark that I can barely make out any details of the wall, there's nothing there that can capture my attention and take my mind off of everything else. Left with no other option, I give in and stop fighting what's running through my mind.

What I see most clearly is an image of Mayor Wilkins. My stomach hurts when I think about him. There are so many conflicting emotions. Part of me misses him, and mourns his death. Another part of me hates him, can see the evil man that he really was, and is glad Buffy killed him. What I mainly feel is regret. If I had only stayed away from his office that night. When I was feeling so lost and confused. I *did* show up at his office though, and eagerly became a part of his crew. He called me his "best girl". He made me feel special. He believed in me.

For that, I was willing to do anything he asked. I killed for him. I betrayed my friends... well, Buffy's friends. I don't think they were ever actually *my* friends. Whatever, I was supposed to be a part of the team, to be there for them. I ended up trying to destroy them.

Looking back now, I know that Wilkins used me. He knew I was lonely and he played me like a violin. I couldn't see it then. I put on blinders. I wanted so desperately to have someone's love.

I close my eyes again, all the guilt and pain wearing me down.

********

Liz and I are preparing to close up the café. She's sweeping and I'm putting chairs on tables. Isabelle went home a couple of hours ago. It took both Liz and me telling her the story to get her to settle down. If it had just been me who told her, I'm certain I'd have another dent in that hood. I am pretty sure all Is sees when she looks at me is a flake. Isabelle thinks of Liz as a really smart person, very grounded. Since Liz wasn't flying off the handle about what happened, she decided to do the same.

With everything in its place, we call it quits. Liz double-checks the café's front door, making certain it's locked. She and I go upstairs for a few minutes, so Liz can change her clothes and tell her mother she's going out for a while. We then leave the backway.

On the way to my apartment, Liz tells me what went on in the classes that we share. Then, as usual, she goes on & on (and on) about Max. What he wore, everything he said to her, what he smelled like. Max Max Max.

When I pull into the apartment's parking lot, Liz stops with the Max talk.

When we reach my front stoop, I unlock the door and go in. Looking behind me, I see Liz still at the stoop.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"Nothing, I'm just all the sudden nervous about meeting her".

"Don't be. Come on in.".

She does, and shuts the door behind her.

Not seeing Faith in the living room, I call out, "Hey, I'm home".

After waiting and getting no response, I start looking around for her. Liz follows along behind me. We check the kitchen first, then the bathroom, then both bedrooms. Not a trace. Going back into the living room, I notice that the pile of folded clothes on the coffee table are no longer Faith's. They are my clothes, the ones I loaned her.

"Well, shit. She's gone".

"Where is she?" Liz wonders aloud.

"I don't know".

"Do you see a note anywhere?"

I look around the living room, seeing nothing. I check in the kitchen, still nothing. "Nope, unless she hid it, there's not a note".

"Why would she hide it?"

"I don't know," I say, getting aggravated. "Just saying, that's all".

"Well, she's not here, there's no note. I'd say she skipped out".

I begin running my hands through my hair. "It does appear that way".

"Why would she leave? She must have something to hide. Or, she found what she needed while you were gone, and she's back at headquarters now, going through your stuff" Liz sums up, trying to break the verbal speed record.

"Okay, first of all, if you keep talking like, 'well, me, you're going to make me dizzy. Second, Ms. Negativity, how can you be so sure about all that? You've never even met her! Plus, nothing looks like it's been messed with."

"Uh, call it a gut feeling"

"Well tell your gut to knock it off".

"Hey, I wasn't finished!"

~Sigh~ "Sorry, what else where you going to say?"

"She could be a really tidy spy, you know?"

"You're being silly! We need to put our heads together and think. Were could she go? She said she was broke".

"Have you looked around to see if she stole anything?"

"Liz!"

"What? How well do you know her? It's quite possible".

"I just know! She wouldn't do that," not to me, I almost add, then bite my tongue. Why am I taking it so personally?

"Fine, that's your opinion. Would you please humor me though, and check things out?"

"Whatever". Yet again I make the loop. I glance around the living room. Everything seems in its place. I walk to my bedroom, same thing. Every other room I check turns up intact as well. Except for the kitchen, where I go to check the cookie jar we keep extra cash in-not that there is ever much of it. The whopping total of $7 is still there. I do notice, however, that the bread loaf seems to be half-gone. Also, a can of peanut butter sits on the counter, by the sink. It appears to be less full too. I go back into the living room.

"Nothing is gone, except for some bread and peanut butter. Would you consider those to be valuables? I wouldn't."

"No, I suppose not".

"I'm going to call the local motels, see if she's checked into one. Who knows how, but I guess anything is possible". I grab a phone book and sit down on the couch, looking up numbers. "Hey Liz, can you bring me the cordless from the kitchen?"

She nods, and goes to get it. Coming back in, she hands it to me.

"Thanks".

She just nods again, and sits down on the couch next to me.

Eighteen phone calls later, I have nothing but a sore ear. No one had anybody by the name of Faith check in. Nor did they remember having any young women with dark hair and dark eyes. Next, I call the local hospital, asking if any patients tonight fit Faith's description. Yet again, all I hear is the word "no".

Staring at my feet, propped up on the coffee table, I wonder whom else I should call. A thought occurs to me. One that sickens every cell in my body. What if she left, and then something happened? Maybe she had internal injuries that we weren't aware of. What if she sneezed, or something, and started hemorrhaging? What if she's dead?!

I swallow the lump that is forming in my throat, and look up another number. Dialing the phone, I wait for an answer.

"City Morgue," a male's voice greets me.

"Hi, I have a bit of a problem. I have a...friend, who disappeared. I've checked everywhere I could think of, and gotten nothing but dead ends" I babble, then realize the awful pun I just made.

I hear a chuckle from the other end. "You know, dead ends are pretty common around here".

I wrinkle my nose. "Um, yeah, can you help me out? My friend is female, 17, thin, long dark-brown hair, brown eyes. You haven't..seen her tonight, have you?"

"No, all I've seen this evening is a middle-aged male. Stupid asshole that got drunk and ran into a tree, going about 90 miles an hour. Good thing the fucker only took himself out"

"Uh, yeah, good thing. Well, thank you" I utter, and quickly hang up. I look over to Liz, who's staring at me with wide eyes.

"Well? Who was that?"

"The morgue". Her eyes become even wider, like saucers. "She's not there, she's not anywhere as far as I can tell".

"Don't worry Maria, everything will work out fine".

I shake my head. "I hope so, but I can't help but think of every bad possibility".

Liz gives me a small smile, and rubs my shoulder. As we sit there, trying to think of something else to say, I hear Mom outside. Getting up, I walk to the front door and open it.

She's standing on the stoop, holding a large box, while her keys dangle in her mouth.

"Hullo," I say with a bow. Then I take the box from her and set it inside the door. She empties her mouth and gives me her trademarked gap-tooth smile.

"Hey Pumpkin. What's up, you practicing your doorman skills?"

I move out of her way as she walks inside. "No, I just heard you coming, and figured you wouldn't like fighting with the knob before you realize it's already unlocked".

"Uh-huh. Why was it unlocked?" she asks, giving me a stern look.

Liz gets up from the sofa and walks over to us. "Sorry, my bad. I forgot".

"Oh, well then, that's okay". Mom smiles and gives Liz a kiss on her cheek. "Hi Lizzy. What have you been up to?"

"The usual. School, work, then more school".

"Oooh, sounds fun".

"Indeed, very fun".

"Yeah, as fun as a barrel of rabid weasels," I add.

Laughing, Liz tells us "Very true. You know, it's getting late. I should get home". Turning to me she says, "Do you mind driving me?"

"Yes I do. I mind a lot actually..." She gives me a light smack on the arm, and I give her a cheshire grin. "Oh, all right, if I *have* to. Lemme get my purse".

Briefly leaving Liz and Mom alone together, they make idle chit chat. Coming back, I tell Mom "Bye, I won't be gone long". "All righty. I'm going to unpack the rest of my junk, then to go next door and return Mrs. Nessbaum's car keys".

I give her a, "'kay," and then Liz and I head out.

We are quiet for the first few minutes of the trip.

Liz is the first to break the silence. "I can't believe Mrs. Nessbaum is still alive".

"She is pretty damn old. Which is the reason she's started letting Mom borrow her car. Afraid of her own eyesight, and all that".

"Why doesn't she just sell the car then?"

"Well, Mom told me it's sentimental. The last thing Mr. Nessbaum bought before he died. Which works out well for Mom. She gets to drive a good car when we both need to go somewhere, and she only has to pay for the gas. Plus she bakes a lot of goodies, as a thank you. Not bad for a '93 Bonneville".

"Good deal".

I nod in agreement, as I pull into the back lot of the Crashdown.

Liz digs out her house key, and opens the car door. " You'll call me if you need to talk or anything?"

"That's pretty much a given," I say with a smile. "G'night"

"Goodnight. See you at school tomorrow, right?"

"Ah, but of course".

Eyes twinkling, she tells me "bye," and walks toward the back entrance.

On the way home, I keep a lookout for Faith. Too soon, I arrive back at my place.

Where the Hell is she?

Back in the apartment, I call out a "hello," and am greeted by silence. Wow, déjà vu. I guess Mrs. Nessbaum is talking Mom's ear off. For about a split-second, I think of going over there to tell the old lady hi, and to let Mom know I'm home. The knowledge that if I do, she'll be pinching my cheek and asking me if I've gotten my period yet changes my mind. That's what she always does when she sees me. Why our little neighbor is so curious about my reproductive system, I'll never know. I don't think I actually *want* to know.

Going to my bedroom, I start taking off my shoes. I undress and put on my favorite pj's. The midnight blue ones, with the little white stars.

I'm about to go to the bathroom and wash my face, when my ringing phone stops me. I run to it, hoping it's Faith.

"Hello?"

"Maria, do me a favor".

"Oh. Michael, hi."

"Please, don't get so excited that I'm calling," he says sarcastically.

"Sorry, I was expecting someone else is all".

"Whatever, do me a favor".

"What?"

"Loan me today's English Lit notes. I kind of missed that class. Again".

"Michael, did you go to school today?"

"Yes I did, and I even went to a few of my classes. Just not that one, or Biology, or Geometry, or..."

"Okay, I get it already. So, you were in school, and didn't even notice that I wasn't there today. Thank you. I've never felt this special before".

"Well, *excuse* me. Do you want to start wearing one of those ankle tracking bracelets so I'll know where you are, every second of the day?"

"Yeah, sounds lovely. You know us girls, we love our jewelry. Thanks for the offer". Before he has a chance to respond, I slam the phone down. I don't have the energy it takes to put up with Michael tonight.

I go wash up, and then crawl into bed. Checking twice, I make sure my alarm is set for 6:30 this time. Only then am I able to lay down and close my eyes.

Tossing and turning, I eventually manage to fall asleep.

I dream at first of shaving Michael's head, thoroughly enjoying watching him weep. Later my night visions take a dark turn. I'm back on Main Street, in an army tank. I'm driving along merrily, until Faith walks into the street. I try to stop, but can't. I feel the impact of the tank as it hits her, and then feel the bump as it drives over her body. I scream and climb up to the top of the still-moving green behemoth. I take a leap off of it, landing on my knees. Cursing the pain I feel, I crawl over to her bloody form lying in the street. Kneeling beside her, I beg "Faith, please wake up". To my surprise, she does just that. She sits up and I look into her face, a scarlet mask.

"Maria, let's get out of here," she says to me.

Tears of relief and happiness running down my cheeks, I tell her "we will, we'll go anywhere you want".

Her lips curl up in a menacing gesture, her white teeth glowing brightly in contrast to her red, raw face. "I was hoping you'd say that".

She wraps her hands around my neck and squeezes. I do nothing to stop her. Over and over, she whispers into my ear, "you killed me, you murdered me".

Soon I see nothing but dark spots. I close my eyes and let death take me, let it carry me down to Hell.

********

Inside my plastic fortress, I lay sleeping. It is not a restful sleep. Nightmares, one after another, run through my mind, like a movie projector playing nothing but horror movies.

The first is a recurring one. I'm in a large room. A long line of people stand before me. They each come up to me, one by one. I either screw them and kill them, or just kill 'em. Then the next person in line takes their turn, and so on and so on. Until I'm left all alone, covered in blood and cum. The emptiness of the room frightens me. My mind howls at all the silence that surrounds me, deafening me. The cavernous room begins closing in. Like a prison. Just before the moving walls crush me, the dream changes.

Transported to a hospital room, I lay in bed, back in my coma. I am aware of everything around me, but I can't move, can't speak. I can't let anyone know that I'm still here. Still a person, not just a vegetable. I hear all the snide comments from the doctors and nurses that "treat" me. I feel the roaming hands of orderlies, traveling to places they have no business being. Fighting as hard as I can to get their filthy hands off of me, yet remaining motionless. A ball of fury in my gut grows, until every inch of my body burns with a boiling rage. There is nothing I can do. I'm buried alive.

I'm about ready to have a talk with the big guy upstairs, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou, and tell him to quit interfering and just let me die. I'm interrupted by a strange, disembodied voice. It asks me, "Do you want to turn back time? Go back to that night in your apartment, the night you fought with Buffy? I'll make it so that night never happened. No more coma. All you have to do is say please".

"Who the hell are you?"

"Think of me as your savior".

Cool. I didn't think I could be saved. "Yeah, sure. Please".

"Done".

The hospital room slowly vanishes, and I find myself at Sunnydale High. Standing on an outdoor platform, at Mayor Wilkins' side. He is giving his commencement speech. His very boring commencement speech. I start looking around. A sea of students in maroon robes are seated in front of me, enduring the damn speech right along with me. My eyes fall on Buffy, who is seated with Willow. They both glare at me, but neither seem surprised to see me alive. Fuckin' A! This is wicked sweet.

An unfamiliar feeling of happiness bubbles up from my belly. I turn to look at the mayor, to give him a smile. What I see before me wipes that smile from my face. He's started changing. His features are all contorted, shifting from human to...well, to very non-human. Whatever used to be Mayor Wilkins now looks like a mutant serpent. It starts growing taller, hovering above me. Looking down, it calls me its "best girl," in a voice that still sounds very much like the mayor's. A forked tongue darts out from behind its scaly lips as it speaks. The endearment I used to love hearing now makes me want to vomit.

I look away in disgust. To my horror, I see Maria in the street. She's parking her bright red car. I try to shout, "don't get out of your car, get out of here". No sound escapes me.

She steps out and starts walking towards the stage. I frantically move my arms in the air, miming the international symbol for "go back". She mistakes the motion as a wave. Waving back, she quickens her pace. I try to run to her, prepared to drag her out of here if I have to. I can't move. It's as if my feet have taken root. What is the point of being coma-free if I can't speak or walk?

All too soon, she reaches the stage. Greeting me with a beautiful smile, she looks so sweet, so lovely. Bright, shimmering light seems to glow from her very pores.

"Hi! it's so good to see you. I'm glad you invited me," she says.

Invited her? I don't want her anywhere near ground zero. I shake my head, and try again to speak. No use. I can't even squeak.

I look around, realizing that the captive audience is frozen in place. How strange, I didn't even notice before the lack of chaos once Mayor Wilkins went through "the change". I lift my gaze to the mayor. He's got his eye on Maria. If I thought I ever felt rage before, it's nothing compared to the hate coursing through my veins now. Not until I hear the fading echo of my own voice afterwards do I realize I'm bellowing at the demon before me - threatening to rip him apart with my bare hands if he touches her. For a brief moment, I am too shocked to do anything else. How did I do that? I have no idea, but I don't care. As long as I still can.

Turning to Maria, I warn her, "Run, get out of here. Go as far away from this place as you can". She gives me a confused look, and stays where she is. In frustration, I shout "Now! Get the fuck out of here!"

Before she can do anything, Demon Wilkins swoops down, and snaps his gaping hole of a mouth around her. I yell at him to leave her alone, but still can't move. Rising back up, he crushes Maria between his massive jaws, and swallows. Then the bastard licks his lips with that ugly black serpent's tongue.

I cry out in anger, "This is not what I wanted, you asshole!! Take it back, whoever and wherever you are. Put me back in a coma, and give Maria her life back!"

The voice, the one that called itself my savior, responds. "I don't have the power to bring your friend back. And you want to know something? It's extremely rude to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'll be happy to turn you back into a drooling turnip".

With that, the frozen audience turns into a mob of frightened teens. Buffy strides to the platform, with my knife. I assume that she is going to kill the mayor, and I'm actually happy to see her.

She seems to have other plans. Coming up to stand in front of me, she takes the knife and plunges it into my gut. I look down at the blade protruding from my belly. So much blood.

"Have a nice afterlife" Buffy tells me. In return, all I am able to do is moan in pain. She pushes me backward. The stage I am prepared to hit opens up, and I fall into a black pit.

Before I can ever discover what awaits me at the bottom of that pit, I wake up. Jerking like a startled newborn baby. My heart hammers in my chest, so hard it feels like it's trying to pound itself to death.

My eyes start to well up. I squeeze them shut, and force the tears to back off. There's no way I'm going to let myself cry. What good does it do? It just gives you a headache, and makes your stomach cramp. Who needs that? Mostly though, it's weak. Only pathetic little mama's girls cry. My mama taught me long ago not to shed tears. When I was young she would wipe my teardrops away with her fist. The black eye or swollen lip that always followed taught me well. Suck it up. Get over it. Hide it.

I try to go back to sleep, but fail miserably. Instead, I lie here thinking about what all I need to do today. I only know one thing, I'm going to go get that job. Not go apply for it and wait to find out what happens. I'm going to go *get* it.

Other than that, I dunno. I guess I'll improvise.

My empty stomach rumbles in hunger. I sit up and prop myself on my knees. I feel much better than I did yesterday. I haven't had to wince in pain once since I woke up. I'm still stiff and achy, but that's no big. Ah, the joys of having supernatural strength.

Nibbling on a sandwich, I look out at the surrounding park. I can see a hint of morning light start to make an appearance in the eastern sky. It's later than I thought.

Finishing off my breakfast, I make my way out of the fort. It's not exactly easy to do, since it was built for three-feet-tall munchkins.

I stroll around the park to loosen up my limbs. It's a lovely place, if you're the type that likes grass, flowers, and chirping birds. I'm not that type. Wall-to-wall carpeting, a frig full of snacks, and color TV are more to my liking. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

Walking past a row of park benches, I see something in the grass, reflecting the new morning sunshine. I bend down to see what it is, and find a quarter. Picking it up and pocketing it, I decide to inspect the ground further. Under the next bench I find two dimes, a penny, and someone's old grocery list. I guess this is the outdoor version of "guess what's under the couch cushions". After scouring every square foot of the park, I have $2.83 in change to show for it. Not too bad. I can find a diner and get a bottomless cup of coffee or something. A good way to waste time *and* get a good caffeine buzz.

Heading out, I walk through the residential areas again. A lot of people are leaving for work as I stride past their homes. Most of them look at me and then quickly look away. A few of the braver ones actually smile or wave.

Soon I'm back in the commercial district. I travel down a few different streets until I find a 24-hour diner, oddly named "Ed's 24/7". Gee, how original. Inside I seat myself at the last booth, back in the corner. I pick up a menu and act like I'm actually debating what to order. A waitress spots me and comes to ask if I'm ready yet. I ask for a cup of coffee. She just stands there, waiting for me to say something else.

"What"?

"Would you like anything else with that?"

"Nope, just the coffee".

"All right" she reluctantly says, probably thinking of the lack of tip she'll be getting. Tough.

I watch the passing scenery in the window across the aisle from me. Not a lot to watch, but it keeps me occupied.

Eventually the waitress comes back with a steaming mug of java. I nod my head, and she takes her leave. I wonder if she spit in it.

Adding 4 packets of sugar, I stir and take a sip. Then I resume looking out the window.

Watching people drive by, heading who-knows-where, it gets me thinking. I have no idea where I'll be going next. Whichever place is the cheapest to get to. If I *could* go anywhere I want though, where would I go? When I was a little girl, in history class we learned about the Mt. Vesuvius eruption that destroyed the cities of Pompeii and, what was the other one? Hercules? Naw, Herculaneum, that's it. I was always fascinated by it. The idea that all those people died almost two thousand years ago, and their forms can still be seen. In the same position they were in when they died. You could get a glimpse of their lives by witnessing them in their death poses. I used to daydream about taking a trip to Italy, and seeing the buried ruins for myself. These days, visiting cities full of dead people turned to ash would be a bit redundant. Been there, slayed that.

7 cups of coffee and 5 hours later, I finally ask for the check. Amazing how long a person can sit and stare out a window.

I leave a quarter for the waitress and go up to the counter to pay my 73-cent tab. Then just about run back to the restroom. Maybe 7 cups weren't such a swell idea.

Before heading out, I fix myself up. A splash of water on my face, paper towels to clean my teeth, and fingers to comb through my hair. Getting the knots out is not an easy task. What's even harder is walking around everywhere with a naked face. I must look like a ghost. Which isn't the best image to convey when trying to get a job. I didn't think it was possible, but I have a serious craving for some cosmetics right about now.

Leaving Ed's 24/7, I make a beeline for the Eckerd's across the street. Entering through the electric sliding doors, I go right for the Health & Beauty section. I walk up to the round, young woman behind the Ultima II counter.

"Hey there, I need to try some new products".

"Sure, would you like a makeover?"

Looking at her kabuki-esque makeup, I decline. "Nah, I'd rather try 'em out for myself. No use in buying anything if I can't apply it myself, right?"

"Makes sense. Have at it, ask me if you need anything".

"I need a sharpener for the eyeliner, if ya got one".

"Oh, yeah okay, I've got one under the counter. Hold on a sec".

She squats down and pulls a spankin' new sharpener from a bottom drawer. I take it from her proffered hand and set to work putting my mask on.

Ten minutes later, I'm all done, and the lady starts the hard sell. "You look so nice. Would you like to make a purchase now?"

"Nah, I tend to be allergic to a lot of stuff, so I'm just gonna road test it all today".

"Oh, but that burgundy lipstick looks so good on you".

"It does, doesn't it? Still, I gotta wait."

"Umm, well, okay" she says, and I'm already heading off to wander the aisles.

Scanning the shelves for the cheapest brands I can find, I lay my eyes on a Wet 'n' Wild display. Perfect. The dirt-cheap stuff that stains your lips. I look for a bit, and pick a dark blood-red color. Taking it up front, I pay a grand total of $1.07. At least the honest life can be affordable.

Stepping outside, I pull the map out of my jacket and figure out how to get to Dementia from here. It's actually not too far. Making the journey onward, I feel much less exposed than I did before.

I arrive shortly. The club is a brick-faced building. Looks pretty tame. They should've called it Suburbia.

I open the wide, metal door and walk inside. A big guy with a goatee, sitting at a small table near the entrance greets me with a "We're closed".

"Yeah, I'm aware of that. I'm here about the job opening".

He gets up from his chair. "You did read the ad, didn't you Miss?"

"Of course I read it, why else would I be here?"

"So you know that the opening is for a bouncer?"

"I know. Here I am".

"You don't qualify".

"Why the hell not?" I demand to know, moving closer towards his table.

"Why? Look at you. You're just a little girl".

"I'm not that little, and I am not a girl. I'm a woman. And you, *sir* are discriminating against me".

"Oh, yeah, you're a woman. Okay, how old are you?"

"22".

"22! No way! Let me see some ID".

"I can't help it if I look young for my age, It runs in the family. And I don't have an ID. My boyfriend, well, my ex-boyfriend now, he got pissed because I was out real late with a girlfriend one night, so he burned my car, my clothes, my furniture, my ID. Everything. He's a bit of a drinker, ya know? So I left him, left Santa Fe, and now I'm here".

"Uh-huh. So I suppose you don't have a resume either".

"Nope".

"Then how can you come in here expecting to get the job? And what makes you think you can *do* it?! What do you have besides a pretty face and a great rack?"

Giving him a steely glare, I tell him "look, I know what I'm capable of. Test me".

"What do you mean? Test you?"

"Take a swing at me".

"No way. Next thing I know you'll be bringing the cops and some fancy lawyers in here, saying I attacked you".

I roll my eyes. "Gimme a break. No cops. No lawyers, I promise".

"Huh-uh. What if I hurt you?"

~Groan~ "You won't! Come on, hit me already!"

"All right! But I'm going to be saying 'I told you so' here in about 3 seconds".

He swings his right arm, aiming for my face. What a gentleman. I grab his hand in mid-air. Spinning him around by his arm, I pin it behind his back and throw him down face-first onto the table. Leaning into him, I grab his left hand and bring it behind his back to meet its partner.

"I told you so" I sing-song.

He grunts in return. I release my hold, and he slowly gets up. Checking his nose for any blood, he scowls at me. "All right, I'll give you a chance. I still don't think you're 22 though. If you go anywhere near the alcohol, in any way, you're outta here. That means no drinking, no serving to anybody, nothing. Stick to your song and dance if anybody asks about your age. Got it?"

"Got it".

"Just so you know, you've been the only applicant. That's the only reason I'm hiring you".

"Whatever gets you through the night".

"Yeah, right. When can you start?"

"Whenever you need me to".

"Tonight then. Be here at 6:30. Why don't you go ahead and fill out some paperwork while you're here".

"Will do".

"Let's go to my office," he tells me. I follow him to the back of the club.

"Just wondering, when is payday?" I ask.

"In two weeks".

Shit! "Umm, okay".

"So what do I call you?"

"You can call me whatever you want. If you want me to answer though, call me Faith. You are..?"

"Rob. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but my nose says otherwise". He attempts something resembling a smile, and holds out his hand.

I give him a firm handshake. "Hey Rob, let's seal this deal"