Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. Or Charmed.
Author's Note: I'd like to thank anyone who picks this fic up in advance. I appreciate that Faith and Amy as a pairing is probably not something you ship (though if you're coming to this fic having read my Iron Coin Chronicles fics and enjoying the Faimy there, welcome!), since it's quite the rare pairing, but I hope to make it worth your while.
It will take a bit before we introduce Amy as a character, however. And for a story that will focus on Faith and Amy, I'm going to start with Wesley. I would ask for your indulgence – this will make sense. I promise. It will also take a few chapters to get to the Charmed-side of the fic, but its gonna be a big part of the story, so no sense in false advertising
This fic starts after the events of "A New World" (Angel 3x20) and after the events of "Entropy" (Buffy 6x18). The timing is a wee bit fuzzy, since by that point in both shows, the episodes are kind of happening one right after the other, with little in between them, but not so fuzzy that it can't be worked with.
Thanks are extended to deiticlast and danielholtz (or whatever tumblr URL she's using today :p) for beta-reading and letting me bounce ideas off of them.
Battered Souls
By Alkeni
Chapter 1: For Good Behavior
May 1st, 2002
Wesley's Apartment, Los Angeles
When Wesley opened the door to his apartment, he'd expected that the person on the other side would be Lilah, back to try and tempt him into working for Wolfram and Hart now that he was technically a free agent. She'd obviously known from the start it was going to be a process. First, she'd brought him that copy of Dante's Inferno – the intent made plain when she'd told him not to think he was too good to work for her company – and now? Well, who knew what she'd try next?
He knew he'd let her in, even if she had no chance of acquiring his services for her firm. She seemed to be the only human contact he was likely to have in the near future.
But it wasn't her. It wasn't even one of his former friends here to hypocritically beg for his help because they were too incompetent to handle demons on their own. It was a man he recognized immediately, but hadn't seen in four years: Quentin Travers. The older man looked him over carefully, one eyebrow raised slightly, and Wesley instantly felt a little self-conscious about his unshaven face and slightly unkempt appearance.
"I see your time in America has indeed changed you, Wesley," Travers observed mildly. "I do hope that they haven't eroded your manners though."
"Oh, yes of course," Wesley said after a moment of standing there in stunned shock. Of all the people he'd have ever expected to see at the door, Travers was not among them. Stepping aside, he allowed Travers to walk into the apartment and closed the door behind the man. He wasn't a Watcher anymore, and his years apart from the organization had allowed him to come to terms with just how many flaws it actually had – but still, he couldn't help but have a certain fundamental – probably ingrained – respect for the institution, and Travers was the leader of that institution.
So, despite himself, Wesley had some respect for the man.
"Can I get you some tea?" He offered, even as his mind raced, wondering what the hell it was that Travers was doing here. The only thing he could think of was that Travers was here to offer him a job, but that was virtually impossible. But why else might the man have come all the way here from London?
"Not at the moment, thank you," Travers replied, holding up a hand. He looked around the room, and Wesley was at least able to take satisfaction in the fact that the room wasn't a mess – he really didn't have enough in the way of possessions to leave a lot of physical detritus lying around.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I've come," Travers began, dryly stating the obvious, "so I'll get to the point: I'm here because the Council would like to hire you once again – bring you back into the fold."
Wesley couldn't believe it. Well, he could believe that Travers was telling the truth. The man was manipulative and protective of his own power, prestige, and position, but he wasn't a liar. So either the head of the Council was playing some sort of very deep game, or the Council was extremely hard up for manpower. According to his father, the name of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was still something of a laughingstock in the closed social community that was the Council and the families of its members. Fortunately, as far as Wesley knew, only a few people in the Council knew about the fact that he'd turned down the retrieval team's offer and sided with Angel against them. His father, thank the various and sundry gods, was not among them.
But Travers did know. So what in the name of all that was holy would have convinced the older man to want to hire him? And why would he think that Wesley would accept? Wesley had rather burnt all of his bridges behind him – quite decisively.
The answer came to him quickly, of course. Somehow, Travers (and the Council) knew about his recent... estrangement from his former friends. From Angel. And they were assuming that he was desperate enough to accept it.
Not likely.
"I don't know what assumptions of desperation you and the Council have made about me, but I'm not going to take a position as some back-room researcher and translator because you want to appease my father-" Wesley said stiffly, wanting to make his position clear. He still had some pride, and while he had no idea what he was going to do with his life now – if he had much to do at all – but it wasn't going to be a life where he was shuffled off into a dark corner.
Travers cleared his throat and interrupted, seemingly unfazed by Wesley's attempt at rejecting him. "Wesley, I have nothing of the sort in mind for you. You've done quite well for yourself in Los Angeles: proven than under the right circumstances, you have many diverse talents. I did select you to be the replacement for Rupert Giles for a reason, and while I didn't expect things to go the way they did, it would seem I was right about your usefulness to the cause of fighting evil. No, the job I have in mind for you would be far more hands-on." He held up a hand again, as if to forestall Wesley's next objection: "Nothing that involves Angel or his compatriots. What I have in mind for you is a Slayer."
"Even you can't be foolish enough to think assigning me to Miss Summers. And last I checked, Faith was still alive and in prison, so you can't be assigning me to her replacement – and if you're about to kill Faith to generate such a replacement, I want no part of it." Faith didn't deserve to be killed. She'd turned herself in. Angel had always confirmed that her desire to repent seemed genuine. As long as Buffy was active, there wasn't even a coldly rational logic to killing her. That said, Wesley was a little surprised the Council hadn't tried to kill her already, but then perhaps even they had limits to what they were willing to do.
"Killing a Slayer is always a last resort. And given the recent assessment by the new psychiatrist for the penitentiary she's incarcerated at, it's a resort we need not take. Miss Lehane seems genuinely repentant, and desires a way to make up for her crimes. The Council has already arranged for her release," Travers replied flatly. Under any other circumstances, from the mouth of nearly any other man, Wesley would have immediately assumed such insane news was some sort of strange joke.
Shaking his head in surprise, Wesley pondered the implications of what Travers was saying... they were quite darkly hilarious on their own. Despite himself, Wesley chuckled for a moment, then winced as pain cut through him. Would he ever be able to find amusement without his injury hurting more? A good question that he had no answer to.
"You want me," Wesley started slowly after the pain ebbed a little, "to be Faith's watcher again. Have you forgotten what she did to me?"
"No. But you seemed willing to defend her against our retrieval team regardless," Travers pointed out calmly.
"Because I trusted Angel, not because I was forgiving her." Wesley had no interest in forgiving her. He didn't hold much direct resentment against her anymore – most of his available stores of that were being directed at others – but that wasn't the same. He couldn't avoid the undercurrent of anger in his voice – though anger at Travers or at Faith he couldn't be sure.
"Well, according to her therapist, making up her offenses against you is one of the things she wants to set right first, right alongside a similar effort for Miss Summers," Travers replied with a level tone, as if unaffected by Wesley's anger. "Which means you're far more likely to get any traction with her than anyone else."
"I do recall being fired for mismanaging her," Wesley pointed out. And rightly so. He'd been a rotten Watcher. In theory, with a fresh Slayer, he'd have a better idea what not to do, but to Watch for Faith? No. Wesley couldn't even imagine that.
"Miss Lehane is unruly, willful and disruptive, to put it mildly. I can't imagine that there is anyone else we could assign to her, apart from perhaps Rupert Giles, that would have any chance to make headway with her, and Giles is still assigned to Miss Summers. She badly wants your forgiveness. That gives you a chance with her. I don't expect you to be able to simply order her around, but we will be releasing her – a repentant Slayer in prison does nobody any good. She'll need some kind of Watcher to aid her – research, training, much as you'd expect."
Travers reached into his coat and handed Wesley a tri-folded piece of paper. "Her release will be tomorrow. She's as yet unaware of it." Wesley unfolded the paper. It was a copy of a governor's pardon for Faith. The whys and wherefores of the pardon were obvious legal nonsense to anyone who knew a thing about what Faith had done, but that wasn't exactly the point here, now was it? "If you'd like, you can be the one to deliver her the good news, or not. You can simply speak with her and make your choice from there. I have the real paperwork, and the prison authorities should know by now as well."
Wesley couldn't admit that part of him was tempted by the idea. He'd been raised to be a Watcher all his life, and for the chance to be one again, to a Slayer...
If Faith was truly repentant... well, what was a little discomfort against the good he could do by helping her? And... his life here in Los Angeles was essentially over anyway. A chance to start fresh...
But with Faith?
It would have to come down to her, he supposed.
"I'll speak with her. Then I'll know if I trust her. You really trust the word of your psychiatrist? She's truly repentant?" He wanted to believe it...
If the Council was going to release her anyway...
Am I really contemplating this? But what else did he have? Hang around in Los Angeles while Lilah continued to try to corrupt him as he waited for the slim chance something bad enough would happen that his former friends would need his help and come to him for it? He had nowhere else to go, so any leaving would be aimless, without any goal or purpose.
"I'll speak with her," he said again, more firmly. He tried to ignore the self-superior look on Travers's face. The man had known he'd make this choice. He'd come prepared for it.
May 1st, 2002
Stockton Women's Prison, Stockton
Faith stared blankly at the empty page in front of her. The entirely empty 'journal'. The new prison shrink had given it to her last week. Well, she wasn't new anymore – Jessica "Call me Jess" Dormer had arrived a few months ago to be the new psychiatrist for the place, and Faith had been dragged before her just like the last one.
Only Jess was actually something resembling decent at her job. Faith wasn't sure how the other woman had done it, but she'd gotten Faith to open up. Faith kinda hated it, being so open, telling another person just how much she wanted to make up for her crimes. But not just the crimes she'd been put away for – those too, the murders, the assaults... she wanted to make up for those too.
But what she really wanted to make up for was the people she'd hurt that had, really, been trying to help her. She'd patched things up with Angel easily enough – Angel had been her damn sponsor, for fuck's sake. But everyone else...
She'd fucking tried to rape Xander, even if she hadn't really gotten it at the time. Sure, his whole assumption of a connection after their one fuck was stupid, but he'd just been trying to help her. And then there was kidnapping Willow and threatening to kill her and getting damn close to it.
And then there was what she'd done to Wesley and Buffy. Sure, Wesley had been a shitty Watcher, but he'd been trying. And before she'd dragged him away to cut him up, he'd actually been trying to talk her down. He'd been trying, in his flagpole-rammed-up-his-English-Channel sort of way, to help her. To try to get through to her.
Instead, she'd just spent a few hours beating the crap out of him and then cutting at him with broken glass. Every time she remembered what she'd done to him, it made her feel sick inside. She'd known exactly what she was doing, what to do to make it hurt the most, but keep him conscious so he could feel it all. And even after all she'd done, he still defended her against those goons the Council sent to get rid of her.
I mean, yeah, he did it because of Angel, not me, but still... Faith wasn't sure she'd have done the reverse even before she'd gone overboard; gone evil because it had seemed the only sane option at the time, in a world that had stopped making sense.
Nowadays... well, she didn't know. Wouldn't know. At least not until her parole came up, in thirty years. And somehow she figured she'd miss that. But who knew.
She regretted what she did to Wesley – torturing him, ruining his life... Sure, Angel had always said Wesley fit into the group like that last missing puzzle piece. He was happy. But still, the guy had been a Watcher. Kind of a big deal that she'd gotten him fired from it. And really, Wes hadn't done anything to deserve it. At most he'd been kinda... useless. That's all. Useless wasn't enough for torture. Nothing was.
And then there was Buffy. What she'd done to B was so much worse. Even ignoring everything before the Coma... stealing her body, fucking her boyfriend? All kinds of fucked up. Buffy had tried to help her. Buffy had tried to pull her back from the brink, and instead all Faith had done was lash out, resent her, be jealous of her.
This was supposed to be my town! Instead, all she'd done was alienate the only person who might have been able to understand her – the only person like her. Only other Slayer. B wasn't the same as her, but they were the Chosen Two. That should have meant something.
Only I fucked that up like I did so many things.
Idly, Faith had occasionally wondered how things would have gone if B hadn't been so fucking straight. Maybe nothing... maybe not. If there'd been that... extra, maybe that would have been something to hold to. And maybe not. Faith had certainly been interested, but B... well, Faith just didn't have the right parts to get the girl's attention. Hadn't been the first time Faith had crushed on a straight girl – hell, she'd gone after a guy who'd turned out to be gay once, so she'd done it all, hadn't she?
It was a moot point though. Faith had gone over the rails, turned on Buffy and then, in the end, fucking... violated her in ways that it had taken Faith too long to really understand. She'd just been focused on the idea of stealing what she'd seen as Buffy's perfect life. She'd been too consumed with herself, with trying to find stability, that she didn't consider other options. Buffy had almost been willing for a few seconds there to consider giving her a second chance, and Faith had said 'fuck it' and stolen her body instead.
As she'd told that shrink just a few weeks ago, the two people in the world she most wanted to somehow make things up to were Wesley and Buffy.
Not that there's any way to make it up to either of them, really. Not that Faith could figure out, anyway. Especially not from in here. But she needed to stay here. She deserved it. At least she could prove to them – to Angel and to herself too – that she could take responsibility...
Faith shoved the empty journal aside, dropping the ballpoint pen onto it. This was why she hadn't wanted the damn thing. She didn't need more time for introspection. She had enough of that shit as it was. Giving her a journal to write her thoughts down in was only gonna make it worse.
Wanting a change of topic, Faith got up and grabbed the copy of The Two Towers that she'd checked out from the prison library last week. She'd read the whole Lord of the Rings Trilogy her first year in here, grabbing the first one by accident, but getting completely engrossed in the world and the story. Now she was reading the series a second time, because why the hell not?
Opening the book to the dog-eared page she'd last stopped on, Faith leaned against the wall as she sat on her bed and read.
She was interrupted a while later by the sound of someone rapping their baton on the bars of her cell door lightly. She looked up to see Eddie standing there, a loop of keys in one hand. "Come on," he told her, his tone direct but a little friendly, as usual. As far as guards at this place went, Eddie was pretty decent.
"Already had my yard time today," Faith pointed out.
"You've got a visitor," Eddie told her.
Faith was on her feet and at the cell door immediately. "Angel?" Despite herself, she couldn't hide the combination of eager anticipation and relief in her voice. It had been months since the last time he'd visited, and he was the only visitor she'd ever gotten here. She'd just figured he'd been too busy with all his stuff in L.A. to come by as often as he had the year before – last time he'd come by he'd told her about how those bastards at that law firm had used Cordelia to get him to break some evil bastard out of some prison in another dimension.
She had no idea what was going on in Sunnydale anymore. She had gotten a letter from Giles of all people a week later, terse and to the point, telling him that Buffy was alive once more, that Willow had brought her back from the dead.
That had been a relief when it had happened. It had been a bad week when Faith had felt Buffy's death - one night she'd just woken up in a cold sweat and known. Angel had confirmed it during that visit.
"Some English dude; says he works with your buddy Angel," Eddie explained, and Faith felt her throat tighten. There was only one person that could be: Wesley.
Why would Wesley be visiting her?
Oh god... Something's happened to Angel. That was the only reason Wesley would come all the way up here. Faith closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself for what had to be the truth. She'd find out when she talked to him. And if whatever demon or vamp had killed Angel was still alive -
Well, Faith was only still in this cell because she wanted to be. She'd take care of that fucker, then turn herself back in.
"Alright." She nodded after a moment. Eddie looked at her weird for a second, then opened the cell door and let her out.
It wasn't that long a walk to get to the visitation room, and sure enough, on the other side of the glass was Wesley. She almost didn't recognize him. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days, which was a total change. His hair was longer, unkempt. He carried himself differently, ready to move at a moment's notice, aware of everything around him.
I probably did that to him, she thought, as she swallowed the rising lump in her throat.
He wasn't even dressed like she'd have expected – no suit and tie get-up. He was wearing a black long coat over a red shirt – looked pretty casual.
And then there was the hard-to-miss scar on his throat. Partially healed, but it must have been nasty when it happened to still look like that.
I didn't give him that.
Faith picked up the phone as she sat down. "I was trying to figure what might bring you all the way out here to visit me, Wes," Faith said slowly, part of her wanting to push back the inevitable news she just knew was coming.
"And did you come to any conclusions?" Wesley asked in a soft, almost raspy voice. His tone was flat.
"Only reason I can figure is that something happened to Angel. So lay it on me." She took a slow, steadying breath, readying herself for the news.
"As far as I know, Angel and everyone else are just fine," Wesley replied, still flat.
"Far as you know? I thought you ended up being in charge of the whole 'Angel Investigations' gig." Angel had mentioned that in passing, a few visits ago.
"There was a... falling out, as it were. Rather too long to get into here," Wesley told her, and this time she could pick up the bitter resentment in his words. Whatever his 'falling out' with Angel was, Wesley was bitter about it.
Falling out? Would have to have been something pretty big. Faith would have figured Wesley would have stayed with the guy till the end of the world. Hell, she'd half expected to find out one day that Wesley wanted to get inside Angel's pants.
"Then why are you here? No need to pretend it's because you're concerned about how I'm doing." She swallowed, her throat dry and tight. She'd just been thinking – again – about what she'd done to Wes, and now here he was. "Not after... after everything," She couldn't even say it. How pathetic was that?
"If you want me to say that you're forgiven for torturing me," Wesley said, his tone flat again, "I'm afraid I can't do that. Not now, anyway." Even though she knew how stupid it was, Faith latched onto that 'not now'. Maybe that meant he could, some day?
Faith nodded slowly. "Kinda figured. So what's this about?"
Wesley reached into his coat and retrieved a piece of paper, which he unfolded and held up, pressing it against the glass.
Faith's eyes caught a few things pretty quick – the word 'Pardon' and her name. Looked pretty official too.
Pardon? For me? Wasn't like part of her didn't want out of this cell, the legal way. Being in prison was shitty however you looked at it. But – why... how?
"The Watchers' Council has decided that you're doing no one any good locked up in here, rather than out in the world, fighting evil. And since they've decided you're genuinely repentant..." His voice trailed off. Whatever the tea and crumpet brigade believed, it was pretty clear Wes wasn't so sure.
But what the hell made those assholes think it? She was – but they weren't anywhere near here. They'd had no way of knowing unless...
That bitch. The shrink was working for them. Only explanation.
Didn't ask to be fucking spied on. What the hell happened to that confidentiality bullshit? Not that really applied to a prison shrink as far as Faith knew, but still.
"And what's that got to do with you?" Faith asked. And what did the Council want with her? She didn't trust those bastards one bit, not the way they'd tried to kill her.
Wesley chuckled darkly, then winced a little, one hand starting to go to his throat, but he stopped himself.
"The Council has arranged for your release. The Warden already knows by now. I don't know how they arranged for the Governor to pardon you, and I'm not sure I want to. But you will be let out before the end of the day. The reason I'm here is because the Council seems to think I'd be a good fit as your Watcher." The skepticism in Wes' tone was thick enough to drive a stake into, far as Faith could tell. But he was all the way out here, so obviously he wanted to find out for sure. Or maybe just taunt her.
Faith's head started to hurt with the craziness of it all. If that shrink was working for the Council, then they knew about how much she wanted to make things up to Wes, somehow... if there was even a way.
But if the Council knew, then that was probably why they thought Wesley should be her Watcher.
"You don't sound too sure."
"I was a rather rotten Watcher, Faith," Wesley pointed out dryly.
Faith shrugged. "I was a pretty shitty Slayer. And..." She looked him over. "Well, you're looking pretty different from the last time I saw you. Angel didn't really tell me much about you when he was visiting, but it always sounded like you were doing a lot better." Hell, Wes had grown a spine between his time in Sunnydale and when she'd run into him in L.A. Seemed like he'd done a lot more than that since.
Faith wasn't even sure she even wanted out. She didn't deserve it, did she? I mean, really... Yeah, there was the whole 'doing good, earning redemption by fighting the good fight' shit that Angel was up to, but...
But Faith knew enough about the law to know that if she'd been pardoned, the prison couldn't just keep her in there.
"That's not the most encouraging of things you could have said," Wesley pointed out.
"What do you want me to say, Wesley?" Faith asked, rolling her eyes. "If we do do this, it's gonna be fucking weird from the word 'go,' after what I –" She swallowed, "...after what I did to you." Her breath caught for a moment, then she went on, "But if I'm gonna be out of here either way, I'm gonna go back to the slaying. Fight the good fight." She saw the recognition in Wesley's expression. He knew the phrase. "And if I do that... I'm gonna need someone to handle the research." She knew it came out a little pathetic, half-hearted.
And it kind of was. On the one hand, the chance to make it work with Wesley was something she wanted to leap at. Prove to him she'd changed. Somehow make things up to him eventually.
On the other hand...
Fucking weird. And, well, it would also depend on just what kind of Watcher Wes was expecting to be.
"Honesty, at least," Wesley observed, then let out a breath. "You're being released regardless," he added in a resigned tone. "I admit, the idea has its advantages and appeal. But as you say, it would be 'weird', to put it mildly. How about we try it for a week or so? If it doesn't work out, we'll go our separate ways."
Making it sound like we're about to start dating. Faith didn't vocalize that. "And you're not shitting me. I'm getting let out today?" The paperwork looked all official and shit, but it sounded too good to be true. Too simple. "And the Council what, just wants me to slay? That's it?"
"I believe Quentin Travers may be embracing new ideas. A strange concept, I know, but given the Council's failures in recent years, well-warranted. As long as you're fighting, they seem to be willing to give you as much latitude as you need." Wesley chuckled, "he even mentioned giving you a paycheck."
Faith sat there in silence for about a minute, chewing over that. Chewing over everything really. She'd kinda like more time to make her choice, but she didn't have it. Not really.
"A paycheck?" Faith said, laughing just a little, "That'd be a change of pace. Is B gonna get one too?"
"I didn't ask. I'm sure you could always mention it to her, so she could demand one." Wesley nodded.
"Well, how can I turn all that down?" Faith asked rhetorically. She took a breath and let it out, "We do this Wes... I want to know about what happened between you and Angel," she added more softly, wondering if it was going to be a deal breaker. She needed to know – know what had made Wesley turn on Angel, or made Angel turn on Wesley... Something had to have happened. Something big.
Wesley hesitated, then slowly, he nodded. "Alright."
"And we're going to Sunnydale, at least to start," Faith said firmly. "I've got a lot to things to make up for... people to make up to. Buffy's right at the top of that list." How she was gonna do that, she had no clue, but she had to try. Had to at least give the other woman a real apology.
Though, as much as she knew she wanted it – needed it – she didn't think she was going to be getting Buffy's forgiveness anytime soon.
