Who: Faith and Dean Where: Hiding in a nameless bar When: Night What: Running away used to be easier Warnings: None as of right now.
Faith wasn’t even sure where she was. Maybe running away again had made her a coward, or maybe it just made her herself, she always ran, from everything. Now she had responsibilities to the activated Slayers but she had used them as an excuse to put clean air between herself and Buffy and the crew. She’d needed the reason to get on, ok to steal, a bike and run, apparently to go and fetch any strays.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t either, she’d brought back plenty, she’d just made sure she’d only stayed put long enough to get them settled before taking off again, putting the road between her and any chance at emotional ties to anyone.
Now she sat alone in a bar, nursing her third whiskey and wishing she could smoke, the dust of a couple of drifter vampires clinging to her long dark hair, a few angry scratches in her leather jacket the only real evidence anyone had tried to fight back.