A/N: This is AU. Faith was around in Season 2 when Spike was around. Nothing too fancy here. Just the meeting of two dark lovelies: Faith and Spike.

She was a badass as far as badasses were known. People were scared of her. And that's the way she liked it. She saved people, but only because it was her duty. But she saved in the dark, so no one would know who she was. Everything she did was in the night, so she craved it. It was something she part of.

It was something she was. And she was a lot of things.

She was dark. She was death. She was underage. She was dirty. She was old. She was new. She was young. She was fast. She was sexy. She was ugly. She was strong. She was dumb. She was life. She was mean. She was hated. She was dead. She was Faith.

She was all of that wrapped in nice leather pants. Stolen of course.

Strolling through the graveyard, a stake twirling through her fingers, she glanced at all the names on the gravestones. When things got bored, that's what she did. She made up stories on how they died and how they were forgotten.

Missy Scotland past when the silicon from her breast implants got into her blood system.

Gregory Smith suffocated when he tied his tie too tight.

Lola Martin was electrocuted when she licked the socket.

She snickered as the death scenes hit her mind. But soon stopped when she heard a branch break under someone's boot. Keeping her body still, she got into attack form; her stake high in the air and the balls of her feet light on the ground.

"I can smell and hear you, pet," an accented voice drawls.

"I bet I smell good then, yeah?" she answers back, gripping the steak harder in her hand. She smirks as she sees him sauntering out of the darkness.

And he's gorgeous. Platinum hair. Blue eyes. Cheek bones.


He's perfect.

"Slayer?" he questions, not sure. She smells like a slayer, looks like a slayer, but wasn't quite the blonde air-head that he knew was a slayer.

"Yeah. Got a boob, ass, and hair job. Ya likey?" she asks, as she flips her hair with the back of her hand, popping her foot as doing so. She then turns her face stoic-like and places her hands at her waist. "Nah, I'm the other slayer. The slightly useless one that got called when Blondie drowned. But, hey, I find myself way sexier than that bitch."

She stopped what she was saying and tilted her head.

"You Angelus's childe?" she asked, putting together the things she remembered when she took a couple of stolen glances at Giles's books. She stared at him very intensely.

"Maybe. What's it to you?" he replied, his voice holding a little humor in it. But it still was thick and menacing like.

Deciding that a fight wasn't going to prosper yet, he set his weight down on a gravestone. He crossed his jean clad legs at the ankle and his arms over his chest.

"You know, those watcher sketches really don't do you justice." She took the stake that was in her hand and put it in the belt of her leather pants.

He stared at her, this time his head tilting to the side. She was quite beautiful. For a human. She had wavy, brown hair that went down towards mid back and chocolate eyes that seemed black in the darkness. Her lips were painted on with a dark maroon lipstick and her eyes were lined with thick black eyeliner. The leather she wore caressed her like a second skin. She held a carefree attitude that hit off with him well. It was not anything like the blonde had.

She was refreshing. And he scolded himself for thinking that about his mortal enemy. Though she did seem a litter darker than a normal human. He could see in her eyes that she enjoyed a taste of the night and the other things that came with it.

He smirked a devilish grin that made her lick her lips.

"Your name, love?" he asks, grabbing his pack of fags. He took one out and lit it and then took a deep drag.

She walked over to where he was resting and grabbed the cigarette out of his mouth. Placing it between her thick lips, she shrugged.

"Faith," she simply stated and turned around. She waved her hand as in thanks, and continued on her way.

He was a little surprised that she left him like that, but it was soon covered up with an interest. Lighting up another cigarette, he still had a smirk on his lips.

The game was not over. It was barely starting. And he was going to have Faith under him and screaming in more ways then one, when it was all over.

Hey. Gotta love Spaith. Besides Spawn, it's one of my favorites. Hope you enjoyed this.