Author's Note: On the setting of this story. It works best when thought of as an alternate version of the events of season seven that take place after the episode "Him". Meaning The First isn't around causing trouble although it isn't referenced. Alternatively, this novel could take place between "Him" and "Conversations With Dead People" although this story takes up three novels, two Buffy and one Angel and that may be a lot to happen in such a short period of time. Either way, sit back and enjoy.
PROLOGUE: PASSIVE MEETINGS
CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS
FEMALE MAXIMUM SECURITY FACILITY
She could see no anxiety in him. Quite the contrary, he stood in front of her with every bit of confidence she would have expected from the most experienced of officers, a rarity among young people who were stepping into their first position at a correctional facility. Confidence was something everyone in this line of work needed but it could also be a crutch, if possessed in too great of quantities, she would have to teach him that. Confidence was what earned respect and allowed someone to successfully do a job, but a slight dose of fear and anxiety was what kept that same person going home alive everyday.
It was only understandable that this young man would be somewhat cocky. Robert Bloodworth, the only son of the Los Angeles chief of police, who had just graduated from UCLA at the top of his class, a double major in criminal justice and psychology. The only reason he was not already working the streets of Los Angeles was that his father insisted he spend a year working in the prison system, to fully understand the results of the actions he would take upon becoming a police officer for the city.
As she looked the crisp, tall, strong, young man with his baby blue eyes and dirty blonde hair over, Warden Cynthia Black remembered how hard she has fought to keep from having this young man assigned to her prison. It seemed however that Robert's father had more pull with the Governor than she as he had personally assigned him to her facility. For some reason she could not understand, this was the assignment the young man had wanted, probably for being so close to his family.
"Well Mr. Bloodworth, everything you in your physical and psychological evaluations seem to be in order," the Warden snidely remarked, glaring into his unwavering eyes as she tapped her painted red plastic nails against the dark hardwood surface of her desk. He stood smugly in front of her with his arms crossed as she scanned his open personnel folder, which she had established earlier in the day. Though she had just met him, it was already painfully obvious they would not get along.
"You expected something different?" He snapped back. Robert had heard stories about this place, about the warden. She was considered, throughout the state, to be as cold and calculating as they came and the appearance of the fifty-year-old woman, dressed in a black suit, black hair in a bun behind her head and a distinctive lack of makeup more than indicated this. Further adding to this was the appearance of her office. It was dark, dark wooden walls, dark carpet on the floors and heavy black curtains pulled over the one window in the room, directly behind her desk. "With all due respect Warden Black, you're not going to find anything in any of those evaluations that will give you a good excuse to not give me this job. Besides," he said with a derisive grin. "I don't think you have much of a choice in the matter."
Not turning her eyes away from his, she slowly pressed the two ends of the file together, closing the manila folder and gently setting it down. Working in law enforcement for over thirty years had taught her many things, one of which was to hate people who thought they could tell her what to do. "The Governor told me to hire your Mr. Bloodworth," she slowly rose from her desk and approached him, a serpent, coiling and moving in on its prey before striking. "He never told me how long I had to keep you on my staff." Robert was taken aback by the comment; he had not expected such a deliberate attack from her. "If you don't do your job, and don't do it well," she circled the young man, keeping her eyes planted firmly upon him. "You're gone. If I get one bad report on you, you're gone. Remember," she said continued, finally completing her slow circle around him and again locking eyes with him, clear she had already taken him down a notch. "If you screw up here, you can kiss that job working the mean streets of Los Angeles goodbye."
"Yes ma'am" he surrendered to the fact that, for the next year, this woman controlled his life. "I'll do my best Warden Black."
"That's all I ask from any of my officers Mr. Bloodworth," she relaxed slightly, the frown disappearing as her expression became the definition of neutral, they were now beginning to understand each other. "I've assigned you to housing unit number fifty-six," she continued. "One of the violent offender units in this facility, we just had someone transfer out of there and I think it will be a good place for you to get your feet wet."
"Putting me in with the bad girls warden?" The grin that she already hated returned to his face. It was clear Robert was aching to jump into some action, put the exercise routines he had religiously practiced throughout high school and college to good use. "Hope you're not trying to get me hurt or anything, the Governor might not appreciate it."
The smug attitude that Warden Black could not tolerate was beginning to show through again. Maybe they weren't beginning to understand each other as much as it seemed only a few seconds before. "Hardly Mr. Bloodworth," she said in her cold emotionless tone, determined to not allow this young man the pleasure of knowing the situation bothered her and further determined to prove she was in control. "Most of the women in this facility want nothing more than to quietly serve their debt to society until they can return to it. We try to maintain a peaceful atmosphere, which is why any disruption is met with a quick, decisive and overwhelming response. As a member of my staff, you will be expected to help maintain that atmosphere using a firm, fair and consistent approach, only resorting to physical measures as a last resort and never instigating any problems."
Warden Black began walking to the door on the other side of her office, opposite the desk. "If you'll follow me, Officer Bloodworth," she put particular emphasis on the word, indicating she now considered him to be part of her staff. "I'll give you a tour of the unit and introduce you to your immediate supervisor."
He followed her through a series of gray hallways, moving through doors that automatically opened as she approached. No marvel of technology Bloodworth realized, simply people in an electronic control room, following their movements and opening the electronic locks as they approached. Working inmates, dressed in white uniforms with numbers printed across the chest of the left hand side, that cleaned the halls, delivered mail and other such activities looked up as she walked by but did not dare to say anything to her, especially not when she was in the presence of another officer. Robert took note of the expressions on the women's faces, they were broken people, mere shards of their former selves.
"The ones that are minimum security and have good behavior reports from their units are given the opportunity to earn jobs in the facility," she explained, talking about the women like they were not there and telling Robert nothing he did not already know. "It gives them a productive means of spending their time and is a good thing to have on their record when they go before the parole board."
Following approximately five minutes of walking, they approached another gray door with a white '56' painted on the wall next to it in block lettering. The electronic locked whirled as it opened, the warden pulled on the brass colored metal door handle and stepped inside, Bloodworth slowly, reluctantly almost, following behind her. They stepped onto a metal gantry overlooking a large open area. Below him, Bloodworth observed much of what he had from the working inmates in the halls. Though these prisoners milled about, some playing cards, others watching TV, some using exercise equipment and others simply standing about talking amongst their own clicks, it was clear that they as well were broken.
"There are ninety-six offenders housed on this unit," Warden Black wasted no time in skipping to the cold, impersonal statistics about his first assignment while Robert could do nothing but stare at their faces, seeing no fire, no life in them, astonished that something so simple as stone and steel could do that to a person. "All for violent crimes and most serving minimum ten year sentences."
"Any problems I need to be aware of?" Warden Black shot him a look that caused him to quickly rethink his choice of words. "Potential problems I need to be aware of?" He raised his eyebrow as he responded, a silent request for her approval of his new way of wording the question. Though, in actuality, he could care less about this job, he did know he needed to stay on her good side during this next year.
"Just one," the warden remarked, grinding to a halt above the exercise area. She slowly extended a hand, gesturing with her index finger to a woman vigorously attacking a punching bag. Bloodworth looked down at her. From the angle, he could see her face and look directly into her eyes. As she ferociously through punch after punch at the swinging bag, he saw something in her he did not see in any of the others. There was a fire about her, a strength that preserved her will and her spirit. "She's in for murder, I'm sure she was involved in more than we know of. She's unnaturally strong for such a little thing, probably a result of being a member of one of those Los Angeles street gangs."
"Which one?" Bloodworth cautiously asked, making sure not to overstep his bounds. Having grown up in Los Angeles with a police officer for a father, Robert knew a thing or two about the gangs that populated its streets. Though it was certainly possible, he could not picture the girl in any of them. People who joined those gangs were lost, people without purpose who sought acceptance and he could not picture this women being a person like that. He could see too much inner strength within her.
"Never heard of it but I'm guessing a group of murderers. We tape record the conversations she has with visitors and sometimes, I've heard people call her a slayer. Sounds like a vicious group to me, makes me kind of surprised that we only have one in her." She looked back to Bloodworth, his expression betraying that he was finding her story less than believable. "One that we know of at least, it's difficult to tell which gang these women might belong to."
"There is no gang called 'Slayers'," Bloodworth was quick to point out. It was possible he had never heard of that particular gang but he somehow doubted that as a real possibility. "Not that I've ever heard of at least, suppose I could be wrong, you know, having lived in Los Angeles my whole life."
"Shall we continue." Though phrased as a question, the command was not disguised well. They moved on across the gantry, Bloodworth taking a final look at the young woman as they walked past. She was so different from the others, had so much life in her. Yet, at the same time, he could see something dark in her eyes. It was hard to tell what it was but it was obvious that something deeply haunted this young woman.
"What's her name?" Something about his voice disconcerted the warden when Robert asked her the simple question. It was not uncommon to want to know the names of offenders one would have to deal with but his tone suggested something almost emotional, a definite weakness for dealing with these types of people.
"Who?" Black asked to confirm her suspicions.
"The 'Slayer'." He mocked what he thought to be her lack of knowledge with his response.
"Oddly enough," the warden answered with a heavy sigh. "Faith."
***
Time seemed to slow with each successive punch she threw. As time slowed, she became less aware of her surroundings and more aware of her inner thoughts and dilemmas. This was her way of closing herself off to the outside world and focusing on what she needed to focus on. With each punch, a flood of memories came to her, Buffy, Angel and everything else that ever made a difference in her life. She missed them both terribly. Angel she saw frequently but there was something that a conversation on a phone between glass could not achieve. Buffy, she missed more than Angel and in such different ways. It had been years since she had last seen her fellow slayer, the one person she thought could truly understand her, and the person she had once thought of as a sister.
The intensity of her blows increased as memories and thoughts flooded to her, breaking past the walls she had so painstakingly established. Though the pain of missing the two of them was great, it in no way compared with the pains of knowing what she had done to them, Buffy in particular. Buffy had trusted her, more than she had ever allowed anyone to trust her before and she turned that trust into a knife to stab her in the back with. Angel had told her once that acknowledging and facing your sins was the first step to redemption and she considered that to be the point of this exercise.
She knew it would be a long time before they met again but she hoped Buffy would be able to forgive her, she hoped she would be strong enough to earn that forgiveness. She closed her eyes, as the punches became faster and stronger striking at the very demons that haunted her soul. She knew it would take a long time, it already had but, for the first time in many years, she was resolved to change, change what she had become after joining forces with the mayor and change what she had always been.
In many ways, she didn't expect Buffy to forgive her and in many more ways, she didn't want Buffy to forgive her. It would make everything so much easier for Buffy to simply keep hating her, despite her efforts to redeem herself. If Buffy didn't decide to give her another chance, everything would be so much easier. She knew if Buffy did forgive her, that would only be square one, she would have to work harder than ever to rebuild the trust she had so carelessly thrown away.
Still, she had to try. This was clear to her everyday as she went through the ritual of pounding on this bag and forcing her long buried thoughts out, to the point her fists hurt and she had conquered another obstacle in becoming the person she wanted to be. The person she had to be but not just for Buffy, Angel or the others but also for herself more than anyone else. She continued her attack against the punching bag with an unrelenting fury only a slayer could muster. She still did not feel worthy of such a title but knew it belonged to her whether she accepted it or not.
Her attack ended as she the last series of blows drew blood from her fists and caused the bag to fly off the chain holding it to the metal support beam above. Faith breathed deeply, the workout was more exerting that she was used to, both the physical and mental aspects of it. She was tired but knew her strength would return in time and she would return to these exercises. Bending over at the waste and placing her hands on her knees, she gasped for air. Though she had kept a strict physical conditioning routine while in prison, she knew punching bags, lifting weights, running and jump ropes could only do so much. Her strengths were wasted on such pursuits; they were not what she was built for. Suddenly, still begging for air, her instincts came alive; she felt a threat upon her.
"Don't waste it all on the bag bitch," the woman said harshly as she approached Faith, a long piece of pipe in her hand. She knew the woman, Sandra Williams, part of a local group that didn't care much for Faith, probably because she refused to help in their little quarrels with another local group. Since she had turned down their "gracious invitation", it seemed as though they had been out to get her, conducting little acts of mischief against her but they had never gone so far as to make an attempt on her in this manner.
She did not move as the woman neared, not wanting to betray that she had noticed her approach well before she had so carelessly given it away. The woman stood over her, two others standing behind, likely there for backup, and brought the pipe back, preparing to deliver a blow to Faith's head. The slayer reacted, with one quick motion, springing to a fully erect position, moving her open hand, striking the weapon loose from her attacker, grasping her wrist and twisting her arm backwards. Something inside of her swelled when hearing the crack of the attacker's bone as she bent her arm in an unnatural way at the elbow.
Williams fell back in pain, screaming as she grasped her elbow, the bone protruding outward from the skin. Faith advanced, old instincts overpowering her. She brought her other hand back, realizing how easy it would be to drive her fist into Sandra's nose, sending a bone spearing through her brain, killing her in an instant. She restrained, fighting back the instinct to kill, knowing she would only harm herself in doing so. She struck her in the chest, sending her sliding across the floor. Though it had happened before, on other attempts on her life while in prison, it always seemed surreal to Faith when she exercised control enough to not kill the attacker. It always made part of the pain go away.
She stood, having barely broken a sweat in the quick fight, another small part of the pain lifted from her mind, realizing that the pain was only about to begin. She felt the sudden painful strike of a hard metal object on the back of both of her knees, sending her toppling to the ground.
Eight guards surrounded her, long batons in their hands. They delivered a painful series of strikes to her legs, knees, back and one to her neck, doing what they could to subdue her. Having experienced this before, she knew that the guards took no chances with her. Though the blows did little to weaken her, she pretended they had more an effect than they truly did. She knew that she could easily escape this circle of men and women, who brutally struck her, easily defeat and kill them all but doing so would only cause her greater pain. She let her arms go limp, allowing them to be pulled behind her back and slapped violently into handcuffs, knowing they could not hold her if she did not want them to.
They pulled her to her feet using the chain of the handcuffs to lift her. Her brown hair fell across her face, partly obscuring her view though not enough to prevent her from seeing the warden approaching with a young man in tow behind her. She did not pay any attention to the warden as the cold-hearted woman looked over her beaten body as the guards tightly held her, presenting the young woman to their master. Instead, she looked at the young man standing behind her. A new guard she imagined but he was different from the others. His very appearance, dressed in a tan shirt and blue jeans that accented his features, portrayed the strength of his inner confidence. It was something she did not normally see with the guards at this facility, they were slaves to their jobs but this man was stronger than that.
"We've talked about all this fighting Faith," the warden scolded her, looking down on the young girl, seeing her as an ant that needed to be crushed and crushed quickly. "I should file charges on you for so badly injuring that woman. It's amazing you didn't kill her."
"Nothin' amazing about it," Faith scoffed back. She could have killed Sandra, easily had she wanted to, just as she could easily kill the warden right now but it would do nothing for her. "She started it, not me," Faith gestured with her head to the attacker, who still lay on the ground, surrounded by guards and two medical personnel who had arrived. With her sudden movement of her head, the guard holding her cuffs tensed, fearing she was about to try something and causing Faith to relax again.
"You're a troublemaker young lady," the warden's voice dripped with pure hatred for the young woman. Faith had been a resident of her prison for over three years and no matter what she had tried, she could do nothing to break the spirit of this fiery young woman. "You should have been sentenced to death for your crimes," Faith could not deny she should have died, but not for what the warden spoke of. "But instead they send you to my prison to cause trouble, well I've had enough of it young lady."
Before Faith could issue any form of protest, the young man standing behind the warden approached her and spoke up. "Warden Black, Faith is right, she didn't start that fight, she was attacked, defended herself." She shot the young man a stare that made the one given to Faith look like a friendly gesture. He backed down, causing the warden's stuff, unrelenting and callous gaze to return to the restrained woman being held in front of her.
"Nevertheless, Faith is an instigator and I will have no more of it in my facility," she looked up to one of the guards, a sergeant, supervisor for the shift that was currently on duty. "Take her to isolation, fifteen days for instigating a disturbance and thirty additional days for seriously injuring another offender." Faith did not struggle as the two guards dragged her away by the arms, she realized it would do nothing for her.
Warden Black returned to standing beside Bloodworth, giving him a glance that expressed more disapproval with his actions than words could have. Seeing her clear anger with him, he decided to push the envelope, always one to challenge what he did not believe to be right.
"A little excessive punishment don't you think?" He spoke confidently, causing further rage to build in the warden.
She suppressed it however. "An overwhelming response Officer Bloodworth," she stated, rather than telling him she would not tolerate such insolence from her staff. "Let us continue." She would deal with the young man's attitude later, simply counting this as the first strike again him. They walked away but Robert turned his head over his shoulder, stealing a last glance at Faith as she was taken away and realizing she was doing the same.
***
Faith lay still on her bunk, legs covered by a wool blanket; her hands extended above her, one grasping a notepad, the other a pencil. She had started this letter more than a year ago, it was in something of a continually evolving state as she added, detracted and totally revised parts of it. No words could truly express what she wanted to, the real reason she had yet to send this letter. How could words express the pain she felt? How could words apologize for what she had done? Still, it was another step on what Angel had called her road to redemption. She didn't expect forgiveness but it was still something she had to do.
Footsteps echoed through the corridor behind her six by eight cell. The front wall of the cell was where the metal door was located with bars on the rear end of the cell where the guards would observe prisoners during their routine security checks. They came by approximately once every hour shining flashlights in the cells with occupants to make sure no one had harmed herself or, in cases of some guards, to perhaps catch a glimpse of someone exiting the shower. The noise and intrusion did not bother Faith as it once had; she had grown accustomed to it over time. Her eyes did not deviate from her letter as the footsteps drew closer.
Rather than proceeding past her cell however, the footsteps stopped and she could feel the presence of someone standing over her on the other side of the bars. With fluidity, she sat up, tossing the blanket aside, setting the notepad on the bunk and sliding off to her feet, turning to face the guard. She took notice, as she slowly turned that, unlike most guards, whoever this one was did not have a fancy with shining a flashlight in the cell and did not seem to scare away from her like most did when she moved to confront their unwelcome interruption.
Expecting to see another one of the fat, middle-aged male guards who liked to stop and ogle her, she was surprised to see the young man who had been walking with the warden earlier. Not in civilian clothes this time, he was dressed in a well-fitting prison guard uniform. He stood in front of her with a blank expression on his face as he looked into her eyes and as she looked back into his.
"What?" She asked, an annoyed tone to her voice as she broke the uneasy silence between them, placing her hands on her waste, shifting her weight to her left foot. Though it was more welcome than seeing the usual guards stopping at her cell, it was still something she did not appreciate, wanting to be left alone.
"I, uh," he stuttered. Before coming to see her, the words he wanted to say were right on his mind but now he had drawn a blank. Seeing her before, when a full prison uniform covered her figure, he was not able to full contemplate how beautiful this young woman was. As she stood before him now, a white tank top and white boxer shorts her only clothing, he was able to realize the fact. Faith was simply gorgeous. Her body was well toned, more than he could have ever hoped for with his and graceful at the same time. Her skin was a perfect color, despite the years of prison life, her legs were smooth, her body strong and, he could not help but notice her ample breasts as they perked through the thin white fabric.
"You, uh, what?" Faith snapped with her voice and with a sudden gesture of her hands. "Came to get a thank you for sticking up for me?" As she felt his eyes upon her body, she could only imagine what kind of thank you he had in mind, like he had a chance. "Sorry babe, not that kind of girl," she followed, testing the water. Seeing no definite reaction, she continued along another line. "Lot of good it did anyways."
"That's not why I came," Robert managed, his thoughts returning to the reasons he was here. Though his mind was back on his purpose, he could still not pull his eyes away from her, still could not believe how truly beautiful she was.
"Just came for a peak at the goods then?" Faith, frustrated with the lack of any progress on getting him to leave, pressed for an answer.
"That's not it either," he shook his head, his resolve returning as his eyes locked back with Faith's. He could see the inner fire in them, covered by dark shadows of the past. "I just, wanted to meet you." His voice was soft but strong, calming to Faith as it flowed into her ears. "You seemed so much different then, well, everybody."
Faith cocked her head. She didn't know how to respond to him, not remembering the last time someone had just wanted to say hello that wasn't trying to get into her pants. "Well, you've met me. Bye," she said with a playful waving of four fingers.
Robert turned away, realizing he was getting nowhere and began to walk off. Faith leaned forward, resting her hands on the bars, shifting her weight to them, remaining silent for a moment as she watched him begin disappear into the darkness. She began to question why she had been so hostile towards him; he had done nothing to her. "Wait." She said, beckoning him to return. He slowly pivoted and in front of her cell once again. "I'm sorry," she said, hanging her head low, the aggressive, distant attitude from seconds earlier vanishing.
"You don't have to be," Robert quickly answered. "You have no reason to trust me, like me or be kind to me."
"Yeah, well, there was also no reason for me to throw my anger out at you," Faith admitted.
"And where does that anger come from Faith?" He exploited the opportunity he was looking for. When he came here, he wanted to meet this young woman but he also wanted to get to know her. He wanted to learn whatever it was that gave this young woman the unfaltering strength he saw, both physical and mental. As such, he also wanted to learn the source of the clouds that obscured that strength.
"That's a very long story," she said softly. Robert bent down; looking at her face, seeing that she was clearly fighting to hold back tears. Despite her obvious strengths, he could tell, on the inside, there was a real person, with real emotions, fighting to be let loose. Maybe, all she needed was for someone to listen to her.
"Well, maybe you can tell me about it sometime."
"Maybe," Faith fought the idea at first but quickly gave in. She nodded, moving her eyes up his body, back to his face. "I think, I'd like that." Robert nodded as well, he extended his hand, wanting to touch hers to provide some comfort but fought the urge. When he did so, he received a quizzical glance from her, indicating how long it had been since she had any real human contact. He knew the line between appropriate and inappropriate behavior however and knew he was walking it as it was.
"See you around Faith," he walked into the darkness. Faith lay back down on her bunk, watching as different guards passed by every hour throughout the night. Her slayer powers and conditioning had often allowed her to stay awake for days but the beating she had received earlier took much of the strength from her, the flaring emotions taking the rest. She finally plunged into sleep, realizing she hadn't even gotten the name of the new guard.
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
"You think this is lame?" Buffy Summers, setting her eggplant sandwich down on the paper plate, could read the expression on her little sister's face far too well. As the two of them sat on a blanket, atop a grassy hill, underneath a tree covered in thick leaves with a picnic basket their only other companion, Buffy could not help but admit that it was indeed a little bit lame. They needed to spend some time together, just the two of them that didn't involve patrolling cemeteries for demonic fiends and, the idea of a picnic on a sunny afternoon was the only thing she could devise that seemed quiet enough for the two of them to talk, despite a planning session with Xander and Willow to help her think of ideas.
"No, no," Dawn quickly countered, her voice slightly less than truthful. "I don't mind the whole, sister bonding thing," Dawn, most of the time, enjoyed the opportunities she had to spend with her older sister. This attempt however seemed to her to be more out of pity than out of true desire to spend time together. "I just don't see why we have to do it on a Saturday afternoon with eggplant and salami peanut butter sandwiches rather than doing it on a beach in Mexico." Dawn hid the roots of her displeasure with this picnic for long enough, finally bringing them to the light.
"Dawnie, I told you," Buffy slipped into her authority voice, having had this conversation with Dawn many times during the past week. "This vacation is for me. For Buffy," she said, emphasizing a point she had already made with Dawn many times. "With everything that has happened this past year, Willow, Spike getting his soul back, I, I just need some time to clear my head. I mean, I think Regan was in office the last time I had a real vacation and that was way before I had the duties of the chosen one on my shoulders." Seeing the frown that had crept back onto her little sister's face, Buffy knew it was time to lighten the mood. "Besides, I figured with big sis' out of the way for three days, you and Will would be having all sorts of wild parties at the house."
"Oh yeah," Dawn responded condescendingly. "We're going to call up all the girls and have a big lesbian, witch, sex and magic romp." Dawn realized, immediately after that she had just opened up her mouth and inserted her foot. She didn't mean to insult Willow in such a way, she was simply frustrated with the situation. "Sorry, I didn't mean it. I guess I'm just worried."
Buffy narrowed her eyebrows in disapproval. "And Xander is going to check on you everyday," she decided to skip past scolding Dawn for the comment, seeing she regretted what she had said. Anya will be around, whatever kind of comfort that is," since Anya's return to being a vengeance demon and subsequent return to being a human Buffy was still be cautious with her, not sure if her recent dance with evil would leave any permanent effects. "And you know how to get in touch with Spike if anything happens, he's promised to watch out for you."
"Oh yeah, Spike is real close to sane lately."
"He's been doing a lot better since he moved in with Xander, almost stopped talking to imaginary people entirely." Buffy tried to make light of the situation. In reality, this was probably the worst time for her to be leaving, with the pending 'big bad' and the festering hell mouth beneath her. On the plus side, demon and vampire activity for the past couple weeks had significantly lessened, prompting the slayer's sudden decision to take a quick vacation.
"And what about the big, scary, super bad evil we know is coming?" Dawn wasn't searching for excuses for Buffy not to go, merely excuses for her to go along.
Buffy gave in, deciding to give Dawn the real explanation for why she was taking a sudden, yet short vacation to Mexico. "I think that's why I need these few days Dawnie. I need some time to clear my head before having to take on the newest big bad. For over six years, I've done nothing but fight evil. I just want three days where I can lie in the sun, read a book, listen to music and drink a margarita without having to worry about vampires or demons."
The setting sun cast brilliant orange and red hues on the faces of the two fair skinned young women, reflecting off their hair. Dawn came to an understanding about why her sister needed the time to herself. Six years of being the chosen one would make anyone hungry for a vacation and Buffy's three-month sabbatical to Los Angeles one summer was hardly worthy of being called a vacation. Dawn smirked. "You mean to tell me when Faith was here, you never took a couple days off?"
Though Dawn did not realize it, the comment intended as pure fun, she had again stuck her proverbial foot in her mouth. She knew Faith was a touchy subject with Buffy but after years of not talking about it, she figured Buffy would have gotten past some of the pains Faith had caused her. "No," Buffy answered. "Never had time. Faith was still adjusting when she first showed up and then, then everything went wrong."
"Sorry," Dawn saw the look on her sister's face and knew she shouldn't have made that comment. "Shouldn't have brought that up," getting no response from Buffy, Dawn continued, trying to cheer her sister with the bubbly little sister attitude that always seemed to provoke a smile from Buffy. "Yep, open mouth, insert foot," she said, making little motions symbolizing the actions.
"It's all right Dawnie," Buffy remarked, a little smile creeping its way onto her red lips as the setting sun stained them. "It's just, thinking about Faith," Buffy tried to fight back emotions, not wanting Dawn to see how fresh many of the wounds still were. "Thinking about Faith makes me think about, other things." She hesitated. "Angel."
"You still miss him don't you?" Dawn asked, placing a comforting hand across her sister's shoulder.
Buffy sighed deeply and nodded. It was a subject she and Dawn had never talked about much and she did not understand why, who can understand her better than Dawn. "More than I've ever missed anything in my entire life. More than I think I could ever miss anything. The worst thing is, there's times when Spike reminds me so much of Angel that I almost forget." She pulled herself out of the emotional tailspin and attempted to lighten the suddenly somber mood of the conversation. "Then there's the times Spike does things that I know Angel would kill him for." She said with a bright smile on her face, despite the seriousness of the comment.
The two sisters continued to talk until the sun had set when they collected their picnic basket, blanket and other items. Buffy drove them home where Dawn spent the evening watching movies on TV and Buffy packed for her early morning departure to Mexico.
Outside the home, a figure stood in the shadows, watching their movements. He had been watching them since the quaint little bonding ritual began. The sun had been painful, causing smoke to rise from his body but it was pain he had learned to tolerate over time. As he watched the two women in the house, he focused on Dawn; so innocent, so full of life and such easy prey. Once the slayer was away, the attack would begin. He remained resolute, standing totally still as cars passed and as the slayer and her sister eventually retired to their beds. He then began strolling down the road. There was much preparation left to be done.
PROLOGUE: PASSIVE MEETINGS
CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS
FEMALE MAXIMUM SECURITY FACILITY
She could see no anxiety in him. Quite the contrary, he stood in front of her with every bit of confidence she would have expected from the most experienced of officers, a rarity among young people who were stepping into their first position at a correctional facility. Confidence was something everyone in this line of work needed but it could also be a crutch, if possessed in too great of quantities, she would have to teach him that. Confidence was what earned respect and allowed someone to successfully do a job, but a slight dose of fear and anxiety was what kept that same person going home alive everyday.
It was only understandable that this young man would be somewhat cocky. Robert Bloodworth, the only son of the Los Angeles chief of police, who had just graduated from UCLA at the top of his class, a double major in criminal justice and psychology. The only reason he was not already working the streets of Los Angeles was that his father insisted he spend a year working in the prison system, to fully understand the results of the actions he would take upon becoming a police officer for the city.
As she looked the crisp, tall, strong, young man with his baby blue eyes and dirty blonde hair over, Warden Cynthia Black remembered how hard she has fought to keep from having this young man assigned to her prison. It seemed however that Robert's father had more pull with the Governor than she as he had personally assigned him to her facility. For some reason she could not understand, this was the assignment the young man had wanted, probably for being so close to his family.
"Well Mr. Bloodworth, everything you in your physical and psychological evaluations seem to be in order," the Warden snidely remarked, glaring into his unwavering eyes as she tapped her painted red plastic nails against the dark hardwood surface of her desk. He stood smugly in front of her with his arms crossed as she scanned his open personnel folder, which she had established earlier in the day. Though she had just met him, it was already painfully obvious they would not get along.
"You expected something different?" He snapped back. Robert had heard stories about this place, about the warden. She was considered, throughout the state, to be as cold and calculating as they came and the appearance of the fifty-year-old woman, dressed in a black suit, black hair in a bun behind her head and a distinctive lack of makeup more than indicated this. Further adding to this was the appearance of her office. It was dark, dark wooden walls, dark carpet on the floors and heavy black curtains pulled over the one window in the room, directly behind her desk. "With all due respect Warden Black, you're not going to find anything in any of those evaluations that will give you a good excuse to not give me this job. Besides," he said with a derisive grin. "I don't think you have much of a choice in the matter."
Not turning her eyes away from his, she slowly pressed the two ends of the file together, closing the manila folder and gently setting it down. Working in law enforcement for over thirty years had taught her many things, one of which was to hate people who thought they could tell her what to do. "The Governor told me to hire your Mr. Bloodworth," she slowly rose from her desk and approached him, a serpent, coiling and moving in on its prey before striking. "He never told me how long I had to keep you on my staff." Robert was taken aback by the comment; he had not expected such a deliberate attack from her. "If you don't do your job, and don't do it well," she circled the young man, keeping her eyes planted firmly upon him. "You're gone. If I get one bad report on you, you're gone. Remember," she said continued, finally completing her slow circle around him and again locking eyes with him, clear she had already taken him down a notch. "If you screw up here, you can kiss that job working the mean streets of Los Angeles goodbye."
"Yes ma'am" he surrendered to the fact that, for the next year, this woman controlled his life. "I'll do my best Warden Black."
"That's all I ask from any of my officers Mr. Bloodworth," she relaxed slightly, the frown disappearing as her expression became the definition of neutral, they were now beginning to understand each other. "I've assigned you to housing unit number fifty-six," she continued. "One of the violent offender units in this facility, we just had someone transfer out of there and I think it will be a good place for you to get your feet wet."
"Putting me in with the bad girls warden?" The grin that she already hated returned to his face. It was clear Robert was aching to jump into some action, put the exercise routines he had religiously practiced throughout high school and college to good use. "Hope you're not trying to get me hurt or anything, the Governor might not appreciate it."
The smug attitude that Warden Black could not tolerate was beginning to show through again. Maybe they weren't beginning to understand each other as much as it seemed only a few seconds before. "Hardly Mr. Bloodworth," she said in her cold emotionless tone, determined to not allow this young man the pleasure of knowing the situation bothered her and further determined to prove she was in control. "Most of the women in this facility want nothing more than to quietly serve their debt to society until they can return to it. We try to maintain a peaceful atmosphere, which is why any disruption is met with a quick, decisive and overwhelming response. As a member of my staff, you will be expected to help maintain that atmosphere using a firm, fair and consistent approach, only resorting to physical measures as a last resort and never instigating any problems."
Warden Black began walking to the door on the other side of her office, opposite the desk. "If you'll follow me, Officer Bloodworth," she put particular emphasis on the word, indicating she now considered him to be part of her staff. "I'll give you a tour of the unit and introduce you to your immediate supervisor."
He followed her through a series of gray hallways, moving through doors that automatically opened as she approached. No marvel of technology Bloodworth realized, simply people in an electronic control room, following their movements and opening the electronic locks as they approached. Working inmates, dressed in white uniforms with numbers printed across the chest of the left hand side, that cleaned the halls, delivered mail and other such activities looked up as she walked by but did not dare to say anything to her, especially not when she was in the presence of another officer. Robert took note of the expressions on the women's faces, they were broken people, mere shards of their former selves.
"The ones that are minimum security and have good behavior reports from their units are given the opportunity to earn jobs in the facility," she explained, talking about the women like they were not there and telling Robert nothing he did not already know. "It gives them a productive means of spending their time and is a good thing to have on their record when they go before the parole board."
Following approximately five minutes of walking, they approached another gray door with a white '56' painted on the wall next to it in block lettering. The electronic locked whirled as it opened, the warden pulled on the brass colored metal door handle and stepped inside, Bloodworth slowly, reluctantly almost, following behind her. They stepped onto a metal gantry overlooking a large open area. Below him, Bloodworth observed much of what he had from the working inmates in the halls. Though these prisoners milled about, some playing cards, others watching TV, some using exercise equipment and others simply standing about talking amongst their own clicks, it was clear that they as well were broken.
"There are ninety-six offenders housed on this unit," Warden Black wasted no time in skipping to the cold, impersonal statistics about his first assignment while Robert could do nothing but stare at their faces, seeing no fire, no life in them, astonished that something so simple as stone and steel could do that to a person. "All for violent crimes and most serving minimum ten year sentences."
"Any problems I need to be aware of?" Warden Black shot him a look that caused him to quickly rethink his choice of words. "Potential problems I need to be aware of?" He raised his eyebrow as he responded, a silent request for her approval of his new way of wording the question. Though, in actuality, he could care less about this job, he did know he needed to stay on her good side during this next year.
"Just one," the warden remarked, grinding to a halt above the exercise area. She slowly extended a hand, gesturing with her index finger to a woman vigorously attacking a punching bag. Bloodworth looked down at her. From the angle, he could see her face and look directly into her eyes. As she ferociously through punch after punch at the swinging bag, he saw something in her he did not see in any of the others. There was a fire about her, a strength that preserved her will and her spirit. "She's in for murder, I'm sure she was involved in more than we know of. She's unnaturally strong for such a little thing, probably a result of being a member of one of those Los Angeles street gangs."
"Which one?" Bloodworth cautiously asked, making sure not to overstep his bounds. Having grown up in Los Angeles with a police officer for a father, Robert knew a thing or two about the gangs that populated its streets. Though it was certainly possible, he could not picture the girl in any of them. People who joined those gangs were lost, people without purpose who sought acceptance and he could not picture this women being a person like that. He could see too much inner strength within her.
"Never heard of it but I'm guessing a group of murderers. We tape record the conversations she has with visitors and sometimes, I've heard people call her a slayer. Sounds like a vicious group to me, makes me kind of surprised that we only have one in her." She looked back to Bloodworth, his expression betraying that he was finding her story less than believable. "One that we know of at least, it's difficult to tell which gang these women might belong to."
"There is no gang called 'Slayers'," Bloodworth was quick to point out. It was possible he had never heard of that particular gang but he somehow doubted that as a real possibility. "Not that I've ever heard of at least, suppose I could be wrong, you know, having lived in Los Angeles my whole life."
"Shall we continue." Though phrased as a question, the command was not disguised well. They moved on across the gantry, Bloodworth taking a final look at the young woman as they walked past. She was so different from the others, had so much life in her. Yet, at the same time, he could see something dark in her eyes. It was hard to tell what it was but it was obvious that something deeply haunted this young woman.
"What's her name?" Something about his voice disconcerted the warden when Robert asked her the simple question. It was not uncommon to want to know the names of offenders one would have to deal with but his tone suggested something almost emotional, a definite weakness for dealing with these types of people.
"Who?" Black asked to confirm her suspicions.
"The 'Slayer'." He mocked what he thought to be her lack of knowledge with his response.
"Oddly enough," the warden answered with a heavy sigh. "Faith."
***
Time seemed to slow with each successive punch she threw. As time slowed, she became less aware of her surroundings and more aware of her inner thoughts and dilemmas. This was her way of closing herself off to the outside world and focusing on what she needed to focus on. With each punch, a flood of memories came to her, Buffy, Angel and everything else that ever made a difference in her life. She missed them both terribly. Angel she saw frequently but there was something that a conversation on a phone between glass could not achieve. Buffy, she missed more than Angel and in such different ways. It had been years since she had last seen her fellow slayer, the one person she thought could truly understand her, and the person she had once thought of as a sister.
The intensity of her blows increased as memories and thoughts flooded to her, breaking past the walls she had so painstakingly established. Though the pain of missing the two of them was great, it in no way compared with the pains of knowing what she had done to them, Buffy in particular. Buffy had trusted her, more than she had ever allowed anyone to trust her before and she turned that trust into a knife to stab her in the back with. Angel had told her once that acknowledging and facing your sins was the first step to redemption and she considered that to be the point of this exercise.
She knew it would be a long time before they met again but she hoped Buffy would be able to forgive her, she hoped she would be strong enough to earn that forgiveness. She closed her eyes, as the punches became faster and stronger striking at the very demons that haunted her soul. She knew it would take a long time, it already had but, for the first time in many years, she was resolved to change, change what she had become after joining forces with the mayor and change what she had always been.
In many ways, she didn't expect Buffy to forgive her and in many more ways, she didn't want Buffy to forgive her. It would make everything so much easier for Buffy to simply keep hating her, despite her efforts to redeem herself. If Buffy didn't decide to give her another chance, everything would be so much easier. She knew if Buffy did forgive her, that would only be square one, she would have to work harder than ever to rebuild the trust she had so carelessly thrown away.
Still, she had to try. This was clear to her everyday as she went through the ritual of pounding on this bag and forcing her long buried thoughts out, to the point her fists hurt and she had conquered another obstacle in becoming the person she wanted to be. The person she had to be but not just for Buffy, Angel or the others but also for herself more than anyone else. She continued her attack against the punching bag with an unrelenting fury only a slayer could muster. She still did not feel worthy of such a title but knew it belonged to her whether she accepted it or not.
Her attack ended as she the last series of blows drew blood from her fists and caused the bag to fly off the chain holding it to the metal support beam above. Faith breathed deeply, the workout was more exerting that she was used to, both the physical and mental aspects of it. She was tired but knew her strength would return in time and she would return to these exercises. Bending over at the waste and placing her hands on her knees, she gasped for air. Though she had kept a strict physical conditioning routine while in prison, she knew punching bags, lifting weights, running and jump ropes could only do so much. Her strengths were wasted on such pursuits; they were not what she was built for. Suddenly, still begging for air, her instincts came alive; she felt a threat upon her.
"Don't waste it all on the bag bitch," the woman said harshly as she approached Faith, a long piece of pipe in her hand. She knew the woman, Sandra Williams, part of a local group that didn't care much for Faith, probably because she refused to help in their little quarrels with another local group. Since she had turned down their "gracious invitation", it seemed as though they had been out to get her, conducting little acts of mischief against her but they had never gone so far as to make an attempt on her in this manner.
She did not move as the woman neared, not wanting to betray that she had noticed her approach well before she had so carelessly given it away. The woman stood over her, two others standing behind, likely there for backup, and brought the pipe back, preparing to deliver a blow to Faith's head. The slayer reacted, with one quick motion, springing to a fully erect position, moving her open hand, striking the weapon loose from her attacker, grasping her wrist and twisting her arm backwards. Something inside of her swelled when hearing the crack of the attacker's bone as she bent her arm in an unnatural way at the elbow.
Williams fell back in pain, screaming as she grasped her elbow, the bone protruding outward from the skin. Faith advanced, old instincts overpowering her. She brought her other hand back, realizing how easy it would be to drive her fist into Sandra's nose, sending a bone spearing through her brain, killing her in an instant. She restrained, fighting back the instinct to kill, knowing she would only harm herself in doing so. She struck her in the chest, sending her sliding across the floor. Though it had happened before, on other attempts on her life while in prison, it always seemed surreal to Faith when she exercised control enough to not kill the attacker. It always made part of the pain go away.
She stood, having barely broken a sweat in the quick fight, another small part of the pain lifted from her mind, realizing that the pain was only about to begin. She felt the sudden painful strike of a hard metal object on the back of both of her knees, sending her toppling to the ground.
Eight guards surrounded her, long batons in their hands. They delivered a painful series of strikes to her legs, knees, back and one to her neck, doing what they could to subdue her. Having experienced this before, she knew that the guards took no chances with her. Though the blows did little to weaken her, she pretended they had more an effect than they truly did. She knew that she could easily escape this circle of men and women, who brutally struck her, easily defeat and kill them all but doing so would only cause her greater pain. She let her arms go limp, allowing them to be pulled behind her back and slapped violently into handcuffs, knowing they could not hold her if she did not want them to.
They pulled her to her feet using the chain of the handcuffs to lift her. Her brown hair fell across her face, partly obscuring her view though not enough to prevent her from seeing the warden approaching with a young man in tow behind her. She did not pay any attention to the warden as the cold-hearted woman looked over her beaten body as the guards tightly held her, presenting the young woman to their master. Instead, she looked at the young man standing behind her. A new guard she imagined but he was different from the others. His very appearance, dressed in a tan shirt and blue jeans that accented his features, portrayed the strength of his inner confidence. It was something she did not normally see with the guards at this facility, they were slaves to their jobs but this man was stronger than that.
"We've talked about all this fighting Faith," the warden scolded her, looking down on the young girl, seeing her as an ant that needed to be crushed and crushed quickly. "I should file charges on you for so badly injuring that woman. It's amazing you didn't kill her."
"Nothin' amazing about it," Faith scoffed back. She could have killed Sandra, easily had she wanted to, just as she could easily kill the warden right now but it would do nothing for her. "She started it, not me," Faith gestured with her head to the attacker, who still lay on the ground, surrounded by guards and two medical personnel who had arrived. With her sudden movement of her head, the guard holding her cuffs tensed, fearing she was about to try something and causing Faith to relax again.
"You're a troublemaker young lady," the warden's voice dripped with pure hatred for the young woman. Faith had been a resident of her prison for over three years and no matter what she had tried, she could do nothing to break the spirit of this fiery young woman. "You should have been sentenced to death for your crimes," Faith could not deny she should have died, but not for what the warden spoke of. "But instead they send you to my prison to cause trouble, well I've had enough of it young lady."
Before Faith could issue any form of protest, the young man standing behind the warden approached her and spoke up. "Warden Black, Faith is right, she didn't start that fight, she was attacked, defended herself." She shot the young man a stare that made the one given to Faith look like a friendly gesture. He backed down, causing the warden's stuff, unrelenting and callous gaze to return to the restrained woman being held in front of her.
"Nevertheless, Faith is an instigator and I will have no more of it in my facility," she looked up to one of the guards, a sergeant, supervisor for the shift that was currently on duty. "Take her to isolation, fifteen days for instigating a disturbance and thirty additional days for seriously injuring another offender." Faith did not struggle as the two guards dragged her away by the arms, she realized it would do nothing for her.
Warden Black returned to standing beside Bloodworth, giving him a glance that expressed more disapproval with his actions than words could have. Seeing her clear anger with him, he decided to push the envelope, always one to challenge what he did not believe to be right.
"A little excessive punishment don't you think?" He spoke confidently, causing further rage to build in the warden.
She suppressed it however. "An overwhelming response Officer Bloodworth," she stated, rather than telling him she would not tolerate such insolence from her staff. "Let us continue." She would deal with the young man's attitude later, simply counting this as the first strike again him. They walked away but Robert turned his head over his shoulder, stealing a last glance at Faith as she was taken away and realizing she was doing the same.
***
Faith lay still on her bunk, legs covered by a wool blanket; her hands extended above her, one grasping a notepad, the other a pencil. She had started this letter more than a year ago, it was in something of a continually evolving state as she added, detracted and totally revised parts of it. No words could truly express what she wanted to, the real reason she had yet to send this letter. How could words express the pain she felt? How could words apologize for what she had done? Still, it was another step on what Angel had called her road to redemption. She didn't expect forgiveness but it was still something she had to do.
Footsteps echoed through the corridor behind her six by eight cell. The front wall of the cell was where the metal door was located with bars on the rear end of the cell where the guards would observe prisoners during their routine security checks. They came by approximately once every hour shining flashlights in the cells with occupants to make sure no one had harmed herself or, in cases of some guards, to perhaps catch a glimpse of someone exiting the shower. The noise and intrusion did not bother Faith as it once had; she had grown accustomed to it over time. Her eyes did not deviate from her letter as the footsteps drew closer.
Rather than proceeding past her cell however, the footsteps stopped and she could feel the presence of someone standing over her on the other side of the bars. With fluidity, she sat up, tossing the blanket aside, setting the notepad on the bunk and sliding off to her feet, turning to face the guard. She took notice, as she slowly turned that, unlike most guards, whoever this one was did not have a fancy with shining a flashlight in the cell and did not seem to scare away from her like most did when she moved to confront their unwelcome interruption.
Expecting to see another one of the fat, middle-aged male guards who liked to stop and ogle her, she was surprised to see the young man who had been walking with the warden earlier. Not in civilian clothes this time, he was dressed in a well-fitting prison guard uniform. He stood in front of her with a blank expression on his face as he looked into her eyes and as she looked back into his.
"What?" She asked, an annoyed tone to her voice as she broke the uneasy silence between them, placing her hands on her waste, shifting her weight to her left foot. Though it was more welcome than seeing the usual guards stopping at her cell, it was still something she did not appreciate, wanting to be left alone.
"I, uh," he stuttered. Before coming to see her, the words he wanted to say were right on his mind but now he had drawn a blank. Seeing her before, when a full prison uniform covered her figure, he was not able to full contemplate how beautiful this young woman was. As she stood before him now, a white tank top and white boxer shorts her only clothing, he was able to realize the fact. Faith was simply gorgeous. Her body was well toned, more than he could have ever hoped for with his and graceful at the same time. Her skin was a perfect color, despite the years of prison life, her legs were smooth, her body strong and, he could not help but notice her ample breasts as they perked through the thin white fabric.
"You, uh, what?" Faith snapped with her voice and with a sudden gesture of her hands. "Came to get a thank you for sticking up for me?" As she felt his eyes upon her body, she could only imagine what kind of thank you he had in mind, like he had a chance. "Sorry babe, not that kind of girl," she followed, testing the water. Seeing no definite reaction, she continued along another line. "Lot of good it did anyways."
"That's not why I came," Robert managed, his thoughts returning to the reasons he was here. Though his mind was back on his purpose, he could still not pull his eyes away from her, still could not believe how truly beautiful she was.
"Just came for a peak at the goods then?" Faith, frustrated with the lack of any progress on getting him to leave, pressed for an answer.
"That's not it either," he shook his head, his resolve returning as his eyes locked back with Faith's. He could see the inner fire in them, covered by dark shadows of the past. "I just, wanted to meet you." His voice was soft but strong, calming to Faith as it flowed into her ears. "You seemed so much different then, well, everybody."
Faith cocked her head. She didn't know how to respond to him, not remembering the last time someone had just wanted to say hello that wasn't trying to get into her pants. "Well, you've met me. Bye," she said with a playful waving of four fingers.
Robert turned away, realizing he was getting nowhere and began to walk off. Faith leaned forward, resting her hands on the bars, shifting her weight to them, remaining silent for a moment as she watched him begin disappear into the darkness. She began to question why she had been so hostile towards him; he had done nothing to her. "Wait." She said, beckoning him to return. He slowly pivoted and in front of her cell once again. "I'm sorry," she said, hanging her head low, the aggressive, distant attitude from seconds earlier vanishing.
"You don't have to be," Robert quickly answered. "You have no reason to trust me, like me or be kind to me."
"Yeah, well, there was also no reason for me to throw my anger out at you," Faith admitted.
"And where does that anger come from Faith?" He exploited the opportunity he was looking for. When he came here, he wanted to meet this young woman but he also wanted to get to know her. He wanted to learn whatever it was that gave this young woman the unfaltering strength he saw, both physical and mental. As such, he also wanted to learn the source of the clouds that obscured that strength.
"That's a very long story," she said softly. Robert bent down; looking at her face, seeing that she was clearly fighting to hold back tears. Despite her obvious strengths, he could tell, on the inside, there was a real person, with real emotions, fighting to be let loose. Maybe, all she needed was for someone to listen to her.
"Well, maybe you can tell me about it sometime."
"Maybe," Faith fought the idea at first but quickly gave in. She nodded, moving her eyes up his body, back to his face. "I think, I'd like that." Robert nodded as well, he extended his hand, wanting to touch hers to provide some comfort but fought the urge. When he did so, he received a quizzical glance from her, indicating how long it had been since she had any real human contact. He knew the line between appropriate and inappropriate behavior however and knew he was walking it as it was.
"See you around Faith," he walked into the darkness. Faith lay back down on her bunk, watching as different guards passed by every hour throughout the night. Her slayer powers and conditioning had often allowed her to stay awake for days but the beating she had received earlier took much of the strength from her, the flaring emotions taking the rest. She finally plunged into sleep, realizing she hadn't even gotten the name of the new guard.
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
"You think this is lame?" Buffy Summers, setting her eggplant sandwich down on the paper plate, could read the expression on her little sister's face far too well. As the two of them sat on a blanket, atop a grassy hill, underneath a tree covered in thick leaves with a picnic basket their only other companion, Buffy could not help but admit that it was indeed a little bit lame. They needed to spend some time together, just the two of them that didn't involve patrolling cemeteries for demonic fiends and, the idea of a picnic on a sunny afternoon was the only thing she could devise that seemed quiet enough for the two of them to talk, despite a planning session with Xander and Willow to help her think of ideas.
"No, no," Dawn quickly countered, her voice slightly less than truthful. "I don't mind the whole, sister bonding thing," Dawn, most of the time, enjoyed the opportunities she had to spend with her older sister. This attempt however seemed to her to be more out of pity than out of true desire to spend time together. "I just don't see why we have to do it on a Saturday afternoon with eggplant and salami peanut butter sandwiches rather than doing it on a beach in Mexico." Dawn hid the roots of her displeasure with this picnic for long enough, finally bringing them to the light.
"Dawnie, I told you," Buffy slipped into her authority voice, having had this conversation with Dawn many times during the past week. "This vacation is for me. For Buffy," she said, emphasizing a point she had already made with Dawn many times. "With everything that has happened this past year, Willow, Spike getting his soul back, I, I just need some time to clear my head. I mean, I think Regan was in office the last time I had a real vacation and that was way before I had the duties of the chosen one on my shoulders." Seeing the frown that had crept back onto her little sister's face, Buffy knew it was time to lighten the mood. "Besides, I figured with big sis' out of the way for three days, you and Will would be having all sorts of wild parties at the house."
"Oh yeah," Dawn responded condescendingly. "We're going to call up all the girls and have a big lesbian, witch, sex and magic romp." Dawn realized, immediately after that she had just opened up her mouth and inserted her foot. She didn't mean to insult Willow in such a way, she was simply frustrated with the situation. "Sorry, I didn't mean it. I guess I'm just worried."
Buffy narrowed her eyebrows in disapproval. "And Xander is going to check on you everyday," she decided to skip past scolding Dawn for the comment, seeing she regretted what she had said. Anya will be around, whatever kind of comfort that is," since Anya's return to being a vengeance demon and subsequent return to being a human Buffy was still be cautious with her, not sure if her recent dance with evil would leave any permanent effects. "And you know how to get in touch with Spike if anything happens, he's promised to watch out for you."
"Oh yeah, Spike is real close to sane lately."
"He's been doing a lot better since he moved in with Xander, almost stopped talking to imaginary people entirely." Buffy tried to make light of the situation. In reality, this was probably the worst time for her to be leaving, with the pending 'big bad' and the festering hell mouth beneath her. On the plus side, demon and vampire activity for the past couple weeks had significantly lessened, prompting the slayer's sudden decision to take a quick vacation.
"And what about the big, scary, super bad evil we know is coming?" Dawn wasn't searching for excuses for Buffy not to go, merely excuses for her to go along.
Buffy gave in, deciding to give Dawn the real explanation for why she was taking a sudden, yet short vacation to Mexico. "I think that's why I need these few days Dawnie. I need some time to clear my head before having to take on the newest big bad. For over six years, I've done nothing but fight evil. I just want three days where I can lie in the sun, read a book, listen to music and drink a margarita without having to worry about vampires or demons."
The setting sun cast brilliant orange and red hues on the faces of the two fair skinned young women, reflecting off their hair. Dawn came to an understanding about why her sister needed the time to herself. Six years of being the chosen one would make anyone hungry for a vacation and Buffy's three-month sabbatical to Los Angeles one summer was hardly worthy of being called a vacation. Dawn smirked. "You mean to tell me when Faith was here, you never took a couple days off?"
Though Dawn did not realize it, the comment intended as pure fun, she had again stuck her proverbial foot in her mouth. She knew Faith was a touchy subject with Buffy but after years of not talking about it, she figured Buffy would have gotten past some of the pains Faith had caused her. "No," Buffy answered. "Never had time. Faith was still adjusting when she first showed up and then, then everything went wrong."
"Sorry," Dawn saw the look on her sister's face and knew she shouldn't have made that comment. "Shouldn't have brought that up," getting no response from Buffy, Dawn continued, trying to cheer her sister with the bubbly little sister attitude that always seemed to provoke a smile from Buffy. "Yep, open mouth, insert foot," she said, making little motions symbolizing the actions.
"It's all right Dawnie," Buffy remarked, a little smile creeping its way onto her red lips as the setting sun stained them. "It's just, thinking about Faith," Buffy tried to fight back emotions, not wanting Dawn to see how fresh many of the wounds still were. "Thinking about Faith makes me think about, other things." She hesitated. "Angel."
"You still miss him don't you?" Dawn asked, placing a comforting hand across her sister's shoulder.
Buffy sighed deeply and nodded. It was a subject she and Dawn had never talked about much and she did not understand why, who can understand her better than Dawn. "More than I've ever missed anything in my entire life. More than I think I could ever miss anything. The worst thing is, there's times when Spike reminds me so much of Angel that I almost forget." She pulled herself out of the emotional tailspin and attempted to lighten the suddenly somber mood of the conversation. "Then there's the times Spike does things that I know Angel would kill him for." She said with a bright smile on her face, despite the seriousness of the comment.
The two sisters continued to talk until the sun had set when they collected their picnic basket, blanket and other items. Buffy drove them home where Dawn spent the evening watching movies on TV and Buffy packed for her early morning departure to Mexico.
Outside the home, a figure stood in the shadows, watching their movements. He had been watching them since the quaint little bonding ritual began. The sun had been painful, causing smoke to rise from his body but it was pain he had learned to tolerate over time. As he watched the two women in the house, he focused on Dawn; so innocent, so full of life and such easy prey. Once the slayer was away, the attack would begin. He remained resolute, standing totally still as cars passed and as the slayer and her sister eventually retired to their beds. He then began strolling down the road. There was much preparation left to be done.