Title: Losing Faith

Summary: Faith learns of her destiny and with the help of her first watcher must battle the many demons in her life.

Disclaimer: I don't own Faith, which is kind of OK because I like my pets loyal and besides, I see her as a shedder.

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It was just past dark as she hurried along the unfriendly streets of Boston. She knew it wasn't safe to be out alone at that hour, especially in this area, but that didn't stop her. She had always been a risk taker, if you could call it that. It wasn't really a risk after all, if you had nothing to lose. She had often felt that way. She was barely sixteen years old, yet she had been through more pain than most people should have to deal with in an entire lifetime.

Her father had left when she was five. For the first couple of years afterwards, she had received birthday and Christmas cards from "him." Funny; how they were always in her mother's handwriting. Even at that young age she knew. But soon the cards stopped all together. Another funny coincidence; the cards had stopped right around the time her mother's alcoholism got out of control.

Faith's mother had always been one to enjoy a glass or two of wine with her dinner but after her husband had left her she had broken out the hard stuff; Brandy was her favorite drink. For a while she still managed to lead a somewhat normal life, being a mother to Faith and staying on at her job as a secretary at a respectable, if not prestigious law firm. But after a while the nightly drunkenness caught up with her, she began missing work, and eventually got fired. Who needed a job anyhow? She had secured a good amount of money in the divorce proceedings and if nothing else could be said about Faith's father, he always paid his alimony on time. So there was enough money for alcohol, at least for the moment.

Faith shivered and wrapped her worn and tattered jacket tighter around her. She continued walking. She usually went to the gym at night; it helped her escape. Her days were often long an unpleasant and it caused this uncontrollable energy to build up inside her. Sometimes she felt like she would just...pop; sometimes she did. It wasn't uncommon for her to get into trouble at school for starting fights. Her mother's boyfriends never seemed to mind, she was "frisky," they would tell her.

They had been at her since she was ten. She would never forget the first time, lying in her bed, hearing her mother's giggles in the next room as she often did through the thin walls of their new place. The giggling finally stopped and she knew her mother had passed out. Usually that's when the men left and Faith could finally fall asleep. As usual she heard her mother's boyfriend get up and leave the room. Only this time instead of leaving the apartment he opened her door. She wanted to scream, but in her heart she new it was useless, her mother wouldn't be conscious again for hours and the neighbors, well, nobody cared much in this neighborhood. She may not have screamed, but she fought, she kicked and threw her tiny balled up fists at his chest, but she was only ten, and he was so big. And finally it was over and he just left. Eventually she had stopped fighting them, she had just given in. It was better that way; they usually enjoyed it more if she struggled, anyhow.

She stopped and looked up at the sign, she was there. She was glad. She could forget the pain, at least for a little while.