The Good Hope did, thankfully, have a sizable supply of alcohol, and even better, a large assortment of whiskey. From everything the ship had in the way alcohol and equipment, I concluded that the goat fellow had been quite the party host. And from the suitcase of cash I found, he must have been running quite an operation of some kind. I didn't care what it had been, though. I had whiskey and plenty of it.

I eyed the bottles for a good while before choosing one. Jack Daniel's, Jim Beam, Maker's Mark, Wild Turkey, Glenfiddich, Dewar's, Famous Grouse...I grabbed a bottle at random and found a glass. I sat down in a chair by the rather spacious bed and set to drinking. Eventually I stopped bothering with the glass altogether. And eventually I was out. Passed out, that is.

The dreams came. Always the same. I am not sure how many times I woke up in a cold sweat, only to drink myself back into the blessed oblivion that came in between the passing out and the dreams.

I awoke the next time to the shuddering sensation which could only mean that the damned boat had hit something. Hopefully nothing that would make it sink; that would be a terrible waste of a good boat and good whiskey.

Slowly - because my head was pounding - I stood up and staggered up to the deck, cringing in the sunlight. Looking at the controls, I couldn't believe my eyes. England. Already? How...hmm. The demon must have had a speed spell or something on the boat. Oh well, saved me having to weather any storms at sea.

Going back below decks, I gathered my things. I found a large duffel bag, into which I stuffed lots of whiskey and the money from the suitcase. There was no sense in letting either go to waste now was there? I slung my bags over my shoulders and scrambled off the boat after securing it to a largish rock.

Once on the mainland, I gazed around. Now...just where the bloody hell was I in England?

The bad thing about dusting vampires is loosing perfectly good, at least sometimes, clothes. Of course, it isn't terribly easy to get the clothes from them anyway; hard to strip someone when they're tied up, you know. I did manage to raid a nest for a few useful things while it's occupants were out on the town. Gained some fairly new clothes, even if they were rather ill fitting, having apparently belonged to a fairly burly male. Pair of leather trousers, black; pair of socks, white; turtleneck-cum-tunic, black; leather belt, black, studded; switchblade, pearl handled; .32 snubnosed revolver, loaded; three wallets containing a total of five hundred US dollars. Not a bad catch for one nest.

The cash, I decided, was best kept for use in bribes; the gun would make some negotiations a bit smoother as well. Now...who or what might be able to get me to England without my having to promise them a fortune?

After a few nights of loitering about the docks, I relocated a fairly popular and rather dive-y demon pub. Or bar, as the Americans generally said. The bartender was humanoid, at least, and looked promising as a fount of information. I caught his attention and slipped him a fifty.

"Know of anyone here who might have a boat? Something a body could cross an ocean with, if they were lucky?" I asked.

He slipped the money into his pocket and thought for a moment before jerking his head toward a horned demon down the bar. I nodded my thanks and slipped off to take a seat by the indicated chap.

"I hear you are the owner of a sea-worthy vessel..."

The demon turned to face me and I could tell it was wary, but interested nonetheless. "Who's askin'?"

I smiled conspiratorially at him and said, "Someone who needs a form of transportation that doesn't require official identification and who would be willing to pay if they thought the vessel was worth it."

Grinning the demon stood and gestured for me to follow him. We walked out to the docks and he pointed at the boat that was his and said the owner before him had called her the Good Hope. How fitting. He said she was fully stocked with provisions and had enough fuel to cross the Atlantic, if that's what I was looking for. And it was. I asked him if he would be so kind as to show me how she ran and he agreed. Once we were underway and out of the harbor, I asked him to show me how to plot a course for England. He punched it in.

"All done. So how much are you willin' t' pay, lady?"

"Nothing at all, I'm afraid, but thank you for the boat."

"What the—" He never got a chance to finish: I clubbed him hard in the head with the pistol butt. I put a life preserver on him and rolled him overboard before returning to the helm and increasing the speed. Hopefully the Good Hope would have good luck and the weather would hold. And hopefully there was a good store of liquor aboard.

I was so sure that I'd been dead for only a few weeks at the most. Then, when my clothes were completely dry, I went into town to find a newspaper. It gave me the shock of my new life.

I'd been gone for years. Faith would be a woman grown, now... Damn it! Damn that creature, it should have warned me about time differences. She could be anywhere by now, across the country or around the world.

I went to the library — honestly, was staring really necessary, it wasn't as if they'd never seen a homeless person before — and ran a search on the most likely place that came to mind as a place to start looking for Faith: Sunnydale, California, home of the exceedingly lucky, if improbably named, Slayer Buffy Summers. However, I discovered that it would have to be the last place to look, as it seemed to have collapsed into a crater. So much for that hellmouth, it seemed.

After that I stayed in the house for the better part of a week. I located the secret compartments in my bedroom and was pleased to discover that no one else had found them. Too bad I had never found storing extra sets of clothing to be very important. I did, however, now have in my possession a knife, a cross, a stake, holy water, most of my books, a tin of biscuits of questionable edibility, and three bottles of whiskey. The biscuits I discarded after finding them unpalatable, but the tin I kept. I also found a small amount of cash, but not really enough to buy more than a few meals.

And, as I had no real sources of identification, I discovered I was going to be at a severe disadvantage in my quest for Faith. Quest for Faith. How...decidedly metaphysical sounding it was. To find her...and perhaps find some way to exorcise my nightmares.

That's what I used the whiskey for: drinking myself into a stupor provided a few hours of dreamless sleep every night, but never for a whole night. The dream was always the same. Kakistos. Pain. Blood. My own screams and my own death, over and over again. And sometimes...when I couldn't wake up soon enough...I'd see her face. The fear and the anger...the pain. Those were the times I woke up sobbing instead of screaming, and it hurt so much worse then.

As much as I hated to admit it, my best chance of locating her was contacting the Council, and the least practical, yet least messy, way of doing that would be going to England. Exactly how I would accomplish it with no money, no ID, and with everyone believing me dead, I wasn't sure, but I would get there somehow. Probably through methods of questionable legality, but when one was alternatly eating out of dumpsters or stealling from boxing in the supermarket, legality was entirely irrelevant.

( I signed for my resurection in blood. )

I sat bolt upright, shaking uncontrolably. It was dark...and it was raining. I struggled to my feet only to fall to my knees again, retching. In a moment I stood again, more slowly and forced myself to begin walking. I wiped the rain from my face and looked around.

Oh...God. There was the house... I shuddered but stumbled towards it. Anything to get out of the damned cold rain. For sale sign, faded at that, in the yard. Empty then. Good.

I stumbled to the backdoor and tried the nob: locked, I should have known. I pulled my hand inside my sleeve andand rammed it through the window. Carefully avoiding the broken glass, I felt around for the catch, opening it when I found it. I crawled in, landing hard on my back on the floor. I managed to get away from the window enough so the rain coming in no longer reached me and then collapsed, exhausted. Then everything went black again.

Still no success, though I did manage to find a vampire. He gravely over estimated the ability of a rather enebriated woman to even be able to graze him with the piece of wood she was waving around. Idiot just laughed and dared me to stake him, as it were a round of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. A round which I surprised myself by winning. At least I can still do it.

I slept off most of the subsequent hangover without dreaming. Until I awoke, threw up, and tried to go back to sleep. I dreamed then. Dreamed of Faith with a knife in her belly...oh God, I woke I up sobbing. The thought of anything happening to her...

I rolled out of bed and washed my face before dressing quickly; I needed to clear my mind. A walk should do the trick. Yes, a nice, long walk. I slipped my knife and stake into my boots and left my room.

I walked along, barely noticing where I was going; I didn't really care about that. There was just too much on my mind...too many thoughts and fears running through my head.

What if something had happened to Faith? If it had, it could have happened anytime I was...dead...or it could have been more recently. Either way, I failed her. Twice. Once by letting myself...get distracted and dying and secondly by not getting back soon enough to help her.

I kicked a bottle out of my way. Damnit. All of it for breaking my own rule. Don't get attached, and, by extension, don't fall in love. But I had, oh, how I had. I shouldn't have; she was too young - around half my age for God's sake - and she was my Slayer. Watchers and Slayers were nit meant, not supposed to become...romantically involved. But I'd wanted to. How I'd wanted to, but I couldn't let on.

Running my hand through my hair, I glanced around. Damn. I found myself into an unfamiliar part of town and sighed. Brilliant, Dian, simply brilliant. Might as well have a look around, though. Perhaps I'd finda lead here.

I leaned my forehead against the wall of the shower as I let the water run over my back and shoulders. My left shoulder had ached like the devil all afternoon; as it was the one Kakistos had severely dislocated, I suspected it would be my "bad shoulder" from now on. Perhaps the weather was about to change or some such nuisance. I certainly hoped it didn't mean some nasty supernatural occurence was brewing.

Or maybe I was getting closer to finding Faith. I hoped I was, getting closer not that the pain was an indicator; it would be rather cruel if the being in charge of wherever I'd returned from had fixed it where being close to Faith was painful for me. Physically painful. No doubt there would be some...awkwardness when I found her. Painful memories and all that.

Sighing, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing my towel. After toweling off, pulled a clean set of clothes out of my suitcase, catching a glimpse of my frame in the mirror. A bit underweight; my appetite had not yet fully returned to the land of the living, to my chagrin. At least I still had some muscle.

I dressed quickly; the scaring at my navel nearly always made me feel sick if I looked too long. I ran my fingers through my wet hair and sat down on the bed.

Now. What to do with the rest of the day. Look for reliable books on the occult? Search for local instances of supernatural activities? Look for the supernatural and hope it leads me to Faith? Drink until I pass out and hope I sleep? Bit early for that last bit, actually. Might investigate the local bars, though. And clubs, if there are any. Especially the clubs.

Faith dancing...she'd looked better than a girl her age had any right to. Damn. Shouldn't be thinking about things like that just now. Shouldn't think them at all, but I couldn't do that; not possible.

I let myself fall back onto the bed with a half-hearted laugh. Seduced by memories...at least I did have some pleasnat memories of my time with Faith. Some of the best memories I had, really. I hoped she could say the same.

After lying there for a good long while, I sat up and, after stowing a knife and a stake in in my boots, set out to search again. Probably culminating in a stop at a bar or a club...and maybe a few drinks. Or maybe several.

The knife rips a line down my torso, all the way from just below the hollow of my throat to my navel. I bite down on my lip as I scream, straining with what little strength I have left against the dagger that has my least damaged arm — the other shoulder's dislocated and the upper arm and forearm are good examples of open fractures — penned to the wooden floor. I wonder for an instant if that was what crucifiction felt like before he twists the knife in my belly.

"Fucking bastard!" It should be a howl but it's a wail.

My tormenter only laughs as he clamps one cloven hand over my mouth, leering down at me as he repeats the cut, this time in reverse and much deeper. The blade grates against my ribs and I can barely breath for the pain.

He wipes the blade off on my throat; I'm surprised when he doesn't slit it. He reaches into my chest — dear God in Heaven that hurts! — and starts breaking my ribs. If it wasn't for the pain, I think I'd feel more nauseous than I do.

Oh God...he just lifted out my sternum...I can see my heart...can't look at it. Can't look at him. From the corner of my eye, I see him pick the knife up. No...no more...don't—

I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. I run a trembling hand over my face and clench my eyes shut. Another cold sweat. God, what I wouldn't give for a good night's rest. For dreamless— nightmareless, flashback-free sleep. At least I woke up before he punctured my lung, mauled my throat, and ripped out my heart. Saved me some bruises; I always managed to fall out of bed when it played all the way through.

And to know that Faith saw it happen...

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and made my way to the mirror. Running a hand through my hair I flipped the lightswitch, blinking as the florescent bulbs sprang to life.

I ran my fingertips over the scars on my throat. Thankfully turtlenecks were relatively inexpensive and good at keeping other people from asking questions. Keeping lies in order took time away searching; time wasn't a thing to waste when you were already late. Sighing, I turned off the lights and lay down on the bed.

Faith. She'd be grown, now, strange as it felt to think about it. Huh. What would she be like when I found her? Still as fond of knives? I smiled softly, remembering how I gave her one for her birthday. I missed alot of birthdays while I was...dead. Ought to do something about that. Maybe buy her dinner somewhere...or something that wouldn't make me think of a date quite so much; she'd still be several years my junior, and my Slayer.

If she'll have me back.

Another sleepless night in another cheap motel in the rough side of another town I wouldn't remember the name of when I left. Story of my second life, so far. I locked and bolted the door and stuck one of the provided chairs under the door knob. A bit paranoid, perhaps, but I felt better for it.

I set a shot glass on the table and opened my latest bottle of Wild Turkey. I poured a shot and knocked it back, savouring the burn. Yes, Dian, you are alive. I poured another shot and knocked it back. And a lot of good it's done you so far. Nothing but aches and pains and nightmare memories. And loneliness. Can't forget that, can we? My inner monologue was always so negative lately.

Yes. The first life. I was a Watcher. And I had a Slayer. Faith was a volatile girl, lots of pent-up emotions and pent up energy. Told her to channel it, take it out on the creatures of evil that it was her duty to kill anyway. So full of life, that girl. Lithe body, with the same feral grace on the dance floor as she had in a fight. I always kept my eyes on her a little too long for my own good.

That's about how I fell in love with her. Or something more than lust, at least; I cared more than that. Tried not to show it; don't know how successful that was. She could be quite an enigma. Never could tell just what was going on it that gorgeous little head. Almost wish I hadn't cared so much; might not've died then.

Ignoring the shot glass, I took a swig from the bottle and kicked off my shoes. I hadn't bothered to get in touch with the Council, though I did charge whatever I needed to them. Didn't make sense to make contact — they'd want an explanation for my resurrection, and I knew they'd disapprove of the truth.

I was back in the flesh because of a bargain, a contract, actually. Signed in blood, even, though now that I'm back I'm not sure how that worked. In exchange for another chance, I regained the memory of how I died (whatever...haven, I can't call it heaven, I had ended up in was one for people who died in highly traumatic ways; none of them remembered the circumstances of their deaths and most were happy. But not me.), the scars — physical and emotional — I would have had if I'd survived my death, and half the remaining years of my life. With stipulations like those, the Council would want to know what about coming back was worth it. And that's they part that would get me in trouble if they knew.

I came back for Faith. I couldn't just rest in peace without knowing what happened to her, and I thought maybe I could make it up to her for failing, for dieing and leaving on her own.

I took another long swig and set the bottle on the table. Only problem with my plan was that time worked differently in the haven than it did on Earth. A couple of weeks there turned out to mean years on Earth. It seemed I was doomed to failure, but that wouldn't stop me from trying to find her, or to find out what happened to her. I'd found no helpful leads on either, so far. All I knew was that there was a crater where Sunnydale, California, home of Slayer Buffy Summers, used to be; thus I knew where not to look.

I rubbed my eyes and looked at the bottle. Not half empty yet. I'd soon fix that. That's how my days ended, if I didn't find anything. I was steadily drowning my liver, but I didn't care. All I cared about was finding Faith...and not seeing Kakistos' face in my dreams.