Thank you all for your interest in this fic! It definitely made me write faster... This is a short one, mostly setting the scene. The next chapters are longer. I will be updating weekly. Enjoy!
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They met at the Magic Box late one night to discuss what could be done about the situation.

It had been almost a week since Giles had left on some sort of confidential mission, and Anya was taking care of the shop alone. Xander and Willow came first, as Faith’s oldest and closest friends. Dawn followed with a wary Tara some twenty minutes later, the former eager and the latter cautious about what Willow was proposing. Last to arrive was Spike, just after sunset.

For a long while, the six sat quietly, reluctant to even bring up the topic at hand. Of course, Willow was the first to speak. “It’s a complicated spell, but I can handle it.”

“Magic!” Spike snorted. “Can’t solve all your problems, no matter how much you try.”

The witch tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. “It hasn’t failed me yet. Not since that spell back in college. And you had no complaints about that, did you?” His only response was a half-hearted leer.

“I’m with Spike,” Xander said, joining his friend against the wall. “Fighting Glory and Adam was one thing. But resurrection? What if something goes wrong?”

Willow shook her head in disgust at the two men. “How can you say that? This is our answer. Spike and I can only hold back the demon population for so long. They know that Faith’s gone, and they’re streaming in now by the dozens, every night! We need Faith. It’s worth the risk, right?” Her eyes sought out her supporters.

Anya shrugged. “Just make sure that I’m reimbursed for whatever you use from the shop.” At the incredulous stares of the other Scoobies, she muttered, “Fine! Half-price!”

“I’m for it,” Dawn put in, tossing a defiant glare around the room. “And Willow, if you need some extra juice, you can always use me, right? If I’m made of energy-“

She was cut off by a series of protests from almost everyone present.

“Over my dust!” Spike snapped. “No plans that put the Little Bit in danger.”

“So better Faith than Dawn, is that what you’re saying?” Willow retorted.

Spike straightened. “That’s exactly what I’m saying! Slayer gave her life to save Dawn’s, and there’s no way in a thousand hells that I’d let you put the Bit in danger again!”

“Is that a threat?” Willow demanded, her eyes growing even blacker than they had been before.

Xander moved to put a hand on her shoulder, calming her down to a lighter state. “Hey, relax. No one’s threatening anyone. We’re all on the same side, remember?”

“I want to help,” Dawn said stubbornly.

“M-maybe it’s a good idea if you stayed at home while we discussed this,” Tara spoke up timidly, trying to defuse the tempers that were running high around the room.

Dawn gave her an incredulous look. “Have you met my sister? I’m not exactly young and innocent here.” She looked to Willow. “Can you use me?”

Witch and vampire eyed each other warily, but the two informal leaders of the Scoobies in Faith’s absence came to grudging agreement silently. “I’ll need Tara, Spike, and Anya,” Willow said decisively. “But that should be enough energy to pull off a resurrection spell.” She opened one of the books she’d piled on the table earlier. “Tara’s white magic and my dark magic should collide to create an explosion of power strong enough to bring Faith back.” She grinned. “Easy as pie.”

Xander and Anya left for the back room, satisfied, and Willow went to take Dawn home, leaving Spike and Tara alone in the shop.

Spike lit a cigarette. “Having any doubts?”

Tara looked down, letting her hair shield her face as she spoke. “Y-you know Willow. She’s been practicing dark magic for years. If Mr. Giles couldn’t stop her, then h-how could I?”

Spike eyed the hesitant girl. “Seems to me that you have more of a chance. True love and all that rot.” He snorted. “I used to believe in that. Then my so-called love of my life dumped me for a Chaos Demon.” At Tara’s stricken look, he hastily added, “But it’s not like that for you, love. You and the Dark Witch are forever. Just seems to me that she’s stunting your growth.”

Tara peeked up at him through a mask of honey-blonde hair. “W-Willow saved me.” It hadn’t been too long ago when she had been hidden in the background, awaiting a destiny as a prisoner to her family. Willow had been the one to see her potential and bring her into the fold, and Tara would do anything for her in return.

Spike shrugged. “Seems more like she doomed you.” He shook his head. “I remember her back when she was a sweet little thing, nervous as hell around vampires and cute as a button. But that was when…” He sighed wistfully, his eyes suddenly far away. “It was before Faith. I don’t tend to argue with her decisions, but encouraging Willow to embrace that darkness was the wrong thing to do. And you can be sure that we’ll be paying for it in time.” He laid a hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on your girl, love.”

Tara glanced up at him, troubled. Spike gave her a brief smile. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

--

Every night for the past hundred and thirty days, she had dreamt the same dream. It didn’t matter what she tried to take beforehand, how much medication or alcohol or occasional illegal substance she consumed; she couldn’t stop the images. She suspected that a magical cure might have worked, but she was far past that.

So every night, she watched the dark-haired girl leap off the tower, and every night, she heard her voice.

“Get me out of here!”

“Hell’s better than this.”

“I am so damn bored!”

“Man, do I need a ride bad…”

She tried to ignore that last one. But the crude girl continued every time, calling her a traitor, a coward, a disgrace to her Line…

Sometimes, she could also see indistinct faces below the tower, faces she sometimes recognized from old memories. Faces she tried to forget with her every waking moment.

But after each came the mockery and belittlement, and she found it easy to drive the memories out.

And then she always woke up, gasping.

“Anne? You okay?”

Cindy. Good old reliable Cindy, who’d been rooming with her for over two years and had never pried into Anne’s past. Cindy, who’d forced Anne to admit to herself that she wasn’t taking a vacation anymore, but really leaving her old life behind. Who’d convinced her to leave Los Angeles and join her in a little town called Rileyville on the other side of the country. Who’d gotten her a job in a restaurant without ID, and helped her obtain the ID when she eventually had needed it.

And yet, Anne didn’t even know what Cindy was running from. Or even Cindy’s real name. She supposed that it was fair. After all, Cindy didn’t know her real name, either. They’d met when Cindy had gotten a job at Helen’s Kitchen, the old dive of a diner Anne had first worked at after fleeing to LA. Theirs was a friendship born out of necessity, and not one that was particularly deep. They only had one thing in common- they were both running. So the two had eventually left together when they had accumulated enough cash, and had found themselves in Pennsylvania not long afterwards.

Anne didn’t spend much time with Cindy. The girl was too close and knew too much, even if it was only that she was running. Instead, she immersed herself in work at the restaurant, came home after Cindy had left for her (rather questionable) night job and fell asleep long before Cindy returned. She had successfully avoided contact with Cindy for almost two weeks now. Until this.

“I’m fine. Just a bad dream. Sorry if I woke you.”

“What a sad, pathetic life you lead,” the girl mocked. “And to think you used to try to make a difference. You’ve sunken so low…”

Cindy shrugged. “No worries. See you around.” She vanished back into her bedroom.

Anne sat up, breathing heavily. She needed to get out. Now.

In moments, she was dressed and wandering along an uphill path towards the quiet Rileyville downtown. She’d learned fairly quickly that she craved violence more than she ever would have imagined as a seventeen-year-old training with- Don’t think about it¬¬! So she took out her anger however she could. Typically, it was a bar brawl, sometime before sunrise. The only people out for blood around then were…unusual. She refused to call them by any other name, to acknowledge their true nature. She used no weapons when she fought them, either. Which led to a lot of messy beheading. But that suited her just fine.

She slumped down at the bar, ignoring the man beside her nursing a thick, red liquid. The man recognized her and left the establishment immediately. Only the newer ones would engage her anymore, or the stupid ones. There were rarely any challenges anymore, just easy victories. She remembered a bleached-blond blur with a touch of wistfulness, then tamped it down immediately. Those damn dreams were ruining three long years of work, dredging up old nightmares…

“What’ll it be, Anne?” the bartender asked, watching mournfully as the bar emptied rapidly. Anne was bad for business, but her presence beat the alternative. The bartender had learned early on that Anne didn’t discriminate whether the slime she fought had a heartbeat or not.

She scowled at him till he brought out her usual, tossing back the liquor with practiced ease.

The bartender thought about informing her that a man had approached him, offering him money in exchange for information about Anne. A man who had had a photograph of a teenager who looked simultaneously identical and worlds apart from his world-weary customer. A man who knew so much about Anne and was planning to retrieve her for reasons the bartender could only guess.

But if Anne was taken away, profit margins would increase significantly. The vampires would return to his little country town, and all would be well again.

He decided against it. Let Anne find out for herself.