Rating: T.. but will change to M for triggers and such - will warn accordingly

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and WB owns 'em. I've just taken them out for an airing for a bit. The fic is for love, not money, (and I'm sure as hell not getting paid for it!) so please don't sue me. References are to both BtVS and Angel, but no infringement is intended. If you're going to archive this anywhere please do so with the disclaimer.. it'll save a whole lotta angst.

Pairings: In fairness to readers it really is a Buffy/Faith fic. If that bothers you, don't read.

Warnings: Dark. Lots and lots of dark. Triggers everywhere. This is not a fluffy bunny fic.

Summary: Faith is out of prison, living with Angel, until an unexpected call for help comes their way which forces her to face her past.

Author's Note: So the truth is, this fic is over 10 years old. I started it a long time ago, and then I stopped writing fan fiction. I never finished it but it has always been the beast in the back of my mind that I have never been able to let go. Four months ago I came across it again and thought, why not give it a go, so, I am re-posting, with the intention of finishing. Hope you all enjoy, even if it is a bit dusty.

Tiz

Until It Sleeps - Chapter 1

'Where do I take this pain of mine I run,
but it stays right by my side
So tear me open, pour me out
There's things inside that scream and shout
And the pain still hates me So hold me Until it sleeps'

"I'm off!" Came a zealous cry from up the stairs, followed shortly by a flurry of feet, denim and black leather. The figure swept towards the door then paused, backtracked to the kitchen and, peering around for any potential witnesses, snatched the two freshly- popped slices of toast from the toaster. "Score.." She whispered under her breath.

Thinking for another moment, she dropped the jacket that was under her arm on the bench, spun towards the fridge, extracted the orange juice and with an audible 'pop', flicked the cap off, raising the full bottle to her lips.

"Taking my toast is one thing-" Faith had only barely managed to pour the juice into her mouth when a soft voice sounded from directly behind her. She jerked forward in surprise and had to work hard at avoiding spitting the liquid out again. "But you know I hate it when you drink from the bottle."

"Jeeeeezus man," Faith hissed, depositing the lidless bottle on the bench next to her jacket. "Don't ya know better than to sneak up on a girl trying to grab a bite on the run?" She scanned the floor for the lid and found it, some five feet away, dangerously close to the ducted heating. "You don't even need toast. Or juice." She stalked over and picked it up. In the five seconds it had taken her to retrieve it, there was, miraculously, a clean glass next to the orange juice.

"I like the idea of it." Angel said, a very subtle hint of obstinacy in his voice.

Faith snorted, filling the glass three quarters of the way. "I still dunno know how you do that - sneak up on me like you do." Angel watched her, silent the whole time. Faith jabbed a finger at her temple. "I think my slayer senses are going senile."

He had to smile at that. "I've been alive for a long time, Faith."

"Yeah yeah yeah." She retorted, downing the contents of her glass in one go. "What, so older? wiser? More worldly ? I dig, big guy, really." The latter was said between two mouthfuls of toast, so came out in quite a different way to that which was meant.

"And very able to get around slayers."

"Huh!" She chewed another mouthful. "You're just lucky you had so much experience when I came along. If I'd been around in your earlier days, you'd've been fertilising some 11th century garden." She flashed him a grin, and slapped his arm.

"I have no doubt."

Faith chuckled and jammed the rest of her toast in her mouth, waving. "Goi' ou'. 'ee 'a a'er" (roughly translated to "bye").

Angel watched her silently until she had reached the door and had her hand on the handle. He had no idea where she was going - since being released there seemed to be an abundance of things to keep Faith busy in LA. Whatever it was, she left happy, and returned happy. That's all he cared about.

Which was why he felt a twinge of guilt when he glanced at the newspaper in the waste-paper can and spoke to her back. "Someone else died yesterday."

The comment stopped Faith dead in her tracks. Angel caught the tail end of a very quiet groan. "What, is this? Cramp my style day?" She quipped, then turned around, swallowing the rest of her toast. "I thought the juice was a low blow but. man, gimme a break. You seen the sunshine out there?"

"Witnesses saw him run headlong into an oncoming truck, screaming."

"Awww man!" Faith's eyes travelled to the ceiling. "Angel! Buddy! Sunshine! Good day!"

"That's eighteen now."

"Fuck. Me.." Faith raised a hand to her forehead and scowled at the ground. "You're not going to let up, are you?" The energy of the morning seemed to drain out of her, escaping through the soles of her boots and into the polished concrete beneath her. Goddamnit. She swore to herself. The day started so goddamn well too.

Angel had been keeping abreast of the situation in Sunnydale through news, and calls. There was something there. Something evil. But not the kind of evil that graced the town's doors every week as part of its penance for being the Hellmouth. This was eighteen lives worth - over a four week period - each person seemingly driven to insanity and finally death, with little or no indication of attack save for a cross-shaped burn on their left temple. They had no reports of large ugly demons, no witnesses of attacks, no way to figure out how long these people had taken to deteriorate into suicidal maniacs... nothing. Empty.

With all their thinking power, the only thread they could find was a diary from the 1400s, that, for some reason, Anya had in her possession. It told of a town of 48 people driven mad one by one, six weeks before the winter solstice. Following the solstice, there was no reference, anywhere, to that town, or any towns surrounding it for another 200 years.

And the 21st December was rapidly approaching, without some reference to what they were facing, there was little they could do but stumble around in the dark and hope they weren't taken next.

Faith had been updated by Angel, piece by piece, for all of those four weeks. It was never going to be easy to talk about Sunnydale with Faith. He had been very careful with his wording - talking about how "they" were going "down there". He never used names. Names meant faces. Faces meant memories. Memories, well they just meant lots of remembering. And right now for Faith, remembering really, really sucked.

So to Faith, that's what the story was. Full of `them's, `they's, and `that place'. Detached, distant. separated from her past by the thin thread that a lack of acknowledgement provided.

Angel had been careful about it alright. He'd done it just in case. well. exactly this happened.

Faith stared up at Angel, and the look on his face told it all. A small sigh escaped her lips, but she caught herself and pretended she was clearing her throat.

"So you're going then."

He nodded.

"Fuck.." Her eyes darkened, then she shook her head, looking up at him. "What can you do though? I mean, they make that slaying shit look good Angel. You know, demon's worse nightmare yada yada." She paused, "..well maybe not this demon. Yet. But that's a definite yet. They'll get it. They always do." She asked again, more softly. "What can you do?"

"I don't know, but Buffy rang me last night and asked me to go."

`Buffy rang me.'

`Buffy rang.'

`Buffy.'

Faith froze. The room suddenly seemed to drop in temperature, and the colour drained from her face. This was the first time he had used a name, and goddamnit why did it have to be that one? She felt a sharp twist in her stomach and clenched her jaw, amazed at how close it was to the real thing.

"Ah." She said flatly.

Angel shook his head. Faith couldn't decide whether it was his way of saying he knew what she was doing, or his disgust at the situation. "They're struggling Faith. This time, they're really struggling. And the bodies keep piling up."

Faith shrugged. "You gotta do what you gotta do, big guy." She said simply, swinging her jacket over her shoulder in a very calculated, flippant move. "I'll wish ya luck. You'll be missed of course. But-"

"She asked for you, too."

Bombshell.

Faith had been ready to finish her sentence with some smart-ass comment like 'expect backwash in your juice when you get back', or 'don't expect me to do all your accounting while you're gone' or something of the like. Instead, any form of verbal communication disintegrated on her tongue. Suddenly, she was mute. Not only did Faith not have anything to say, she suddenly couldn't remember how to speak.

"She thought you would still be in prison - she asked me if I could break you out." Angel continued. The tiny smile on his lips at the thought of breaking Faith out of prison was missed by the slayer. Nor would it have been any consolation either, as she tried desperately to gain purchase on the spiraling whirlwhid in her head.

`She asked for you.'

Angel pressed on. "I told her you had been released on parole early for good behaviour." He took a step forward, able to pick through her blankness and extract the fear from the depths of her eyes. "She's not jumping for joy at the prospect either, Faith."

"Huhhhh..." Faith croaked, her throat suddenly exceedingly sore. All his words seemed to penetrate her ears as if he were talking through a padded wall - soft, muffled, barely coherent. Her eyes darted right, then back again, looking for an escape route. This was too much. Too much for her. Too much for now. Names, places and now she has to go there?

Fuck that.

Faith turned her back on the pain in her stomach and the whirlwind behind her eyes. With an almost audible `click' in her mind, her shutters slammed down, and she felt the familiar pang of nothing.

"You're fucking shitting me, right?"

"No." Angel replied. He could sense her defences, and a part of him was disappointed. "She asked for our help. Mine, and yours."

"She's lost her fucking marbles." Faith pulled at the chain around her neck, trying to relieve the suffocating pressure she was feeling. Her fingers tightened there on the finely-chiseled silver sword that rested between and just below her collarbones. "I'm not going back there."

Angel tilted his head. "There's nothing stopping you Faith. Just you."

"Hah!" Faith rolled her eyes. "Well just who died and made you fucking Mr. Calm Cool and Collected? Do you know how fulla shit that is? Wake-up sunshine. Sunnydale wasn't exactly my crowning glory. I'm here because of that place." She shook her head. "I'm all for kicking the bad-ass out of me but this goes way beyond that."

"You're looking for atonement, this would be a way to show them how different you are. They're asking for your help."

"Because they're all obviously fucking insane!" She threw her arms into the air and they fell back down against her sides with a slap. The jacket that she was carrying dropped to her feet, unnoticed. "What part of 'I made their life a living hell' doesn't make sense to you? I'm supposed to be getting on with my life, and them with theirs. Carefree, Faith-Free. I mean fuck, could you imagine the shit I'd stir up by going back there?"

"Faith, eighteen people are dead. The last thing they are thinking about is old grudges. Right now I think they would make a deal with anyone but the devil to come to some resolution."

She snorted, crossing her arms. "What, so they're not going to hate me because they'll be too distracted with a demon? You sure know how to make a girl feel special, soul-boy."

"It wasn't supposed to." Angel snapped. With all his infinite patience, sometimes this side of Faith really pissed him off. "This isn't about you, or them. It's about you getting down there because you have the power to help them, and they need the help. People are dying Faith."

"Again with the dying!" Faith growled, and kicked her jacket into the corner. "FUCK!" Fuck she hated when he did that. "Fuck this shit Angel. I swear, if one of them looks at me wrong, I'm history."

"Then you'll be turning around as soon as you get there." Faith blinked. It wasn't quite the response she was expecting. Angel lowered his voice. "It's not going to be easy for anyone Faith. Least of all them. Remember, they had to ask you. You've already got one up on them."

"Well aren't I just the fucking King of the Kids then." She muttered.

"Listen." Angel closed the distance between them and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Faith stared intently at her boots. "You need to have one foot out the door. I understand that. But you can only afford one. Any more and there'll be no point."

"So why-"

"Because you're good Faith." This time, when she looked up Angel was smiling slightly. "You're good. They need you. You can help them and deep down, you and I both know you want to."

Faith snorted inwardly. Back with the them's and the they's. Nameless. Faceless. Angel had used the drawcard just when he needed to, and she had to admit, it'd worked.

"What time are we leaving?"