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Disclaimer: In case we're not clear on this, Joss owns the Buffy-verse (we really need a better word for it than that), I'm just tresspassing on an unwatching corner of it.

Lonely Letters
Chapter Three
By IceWing (icewing@one.net)


Faith lay on the upper bunk in Cell 1013, Cellblock Sierra Golf One of the California Women's Correctional Facility. Resting on the pillow in front of her, its pages slowing being read, was a college textbook on Western Civilization. Jotting some notes down on her notepad, the young Slayer turned to the next page. It still felt a little weird, actually cracking open a textbook for some reason other than to tear the pages out to keep the fire burning in the winter, but oddly, she was proud of her efforts. After years of being told she would never amount to anything, which she had to admit had been pretty dead on till she had ended up in prison of all places, Faith felt as if she might actually be able to contribute something to society someday.

Other than killing demons and vampires, she added silently.

The unbalanced wheel of the mail cart began its squeaky journey down the concrete catwalk, and Faith perked up. She knew better than to get her hopes up, but a large part of her was almost giddy with the thought that somebody out in the real world felt she was important enough to write to. The result was that every day since she had sent her last letter, she had anxiously awaited the mail delivery, hoping against hope that there would be another letter from whoever her pen pal was

As the cart approached, she tried to keep her focus on the book in front of her. How would it look if she was pressed against the bars, waiting like some kind of pathetic girly girl for a chance to see the pop star of the week. But, even as she was telling this to herself, part of her indeed wanted to do just that.

The mail cart passed in front of her cell, wheel squeaking with each rotation over the rough flooring. The trustee looked up at her, then kept on pushing the cart forward. It was a new girl today, the former trustee having gotten thrown in the hole when they found drugs in her cell.

Faith's smile faded as the mail cart kept on going, right past her cell. A sigh crossed her lips and she tried to mask her disappointment. It wasn't a big deal, right. I mean, it was just a single letter. Hell, whoever it was probably hadn't even had a chance to write her back yet And then that annoying voice in the back of her head chimed in. Maybe they don't want to write you back. After all, who wants to write to a murderer. Its not like you're worth the time, nor paper, and especially not the thirty-four cents for a stamp. You deserve to be alone.. Not to have friends After all, who'd want to be friends to a person who did what you did in Boston? As low as

Before the internal diatribe could fully get up to speed, Faith was distracted by somebody speaking to her from outside the cell. "You Faith?"

The Slayer looked up and saw the trustee standing there, an envelope in hand. Not trusting that she wouldn't say something stupid, she simply nodded. The envelope was slid through the bars and Faith gently plucked it from the trustee's hand. "Thanks." The trustee nodded and a moment later, the squeaky mail cart resumed its circuit of the cellblock.

Placing her notepad in the Western Civ book, Faith took a second to calm herself down before opening the letter. The last thing she wanted to do was tear this precious lifeline to the outside world. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she stopped. What had happened to her? Why was this letter so damned valuable to her anyway? It wasn't like anything earth shattering going to be in there, nor should these letters mean this much. Hell, she didn't even know who it was who was writing her, or who she was writing back to.

But a part of her knew what was going on. And, if she was honest with herself, it scared her. Somebody out there was taking the time to talk to her, and for some reason, she was craving that human contact. Nobody in her life had taken the effort to talk to her, or to spend time with her. Sure as hell not her folks, or the gangs she had run with on the East Coast. The Council had wanted her to be their puppet and the Mayor wanted her to be Faith pondered that for a second. He had treated her well, she had to admit, but looking back, it was treatment along the lines of how one pampers a horse or a guard dog. Nothing more.

Looking down at the envelope, she knew that finally, somebody cared about her. At least enough to spend a couple of minutes writing her.

Her eyes watering slightly, the dark haired Slayer slid the letter from the already opened, thanks to the mail censors, envelop and began to read

Hey Faith,

Got your letter yesterday. Sorry I didn't get a response in the mail then, but things have been kinda busy around here lately. You know how life can be in SunnyDale. Always a chess game occurring. Sometimes I think there are a whole lot more chess partners in town than we know about. And as soon as one of them sees an empty board, they immediately sit down at the table and its only then that we get to see the moves they have already pre-positioned on the board. I hate it sometimes. Just once I wish we had half the advantages they do. They have more pieces, more possible moves with those pieces and they're all gunning for the championship belt. All its going to take is a single time that they win and we're just screwed. Cause there are no rematches in this league One chance is all you get. If you lose, well, its definitely game over man. *sigh * At least we have some good players on the team, but I have to admit, I for one would love to have you back in town, helping us figure out how to best counter the moves of our opponents and help us make that winning move without losing any of our pieces to the opponent. It's a tough game. I hope we can keep our winning streak alive.

Sometimes I get scared. I bet that was something you weren't expecting to see. For some reason, I have been thinking about my own mortality lately. Probably has something to do with Joyce's death. By the way, I did what you asked. Well, mostly. I actually didn't get an arrangement, but instead planted a couple of small flowers there for you. That way they don't just whither away in a couple of days, but will be there for a long time, always bringing a bit of beauty to that sad place. Anyway, back to what I was saying. I've been thinking about what happens in this town a lot, about the odds we all have over come to make it this far. Joyce wasn't the first of us to pass on, but the cause was so meaningless. I mean, we survive everything this town throws at us, and she dies of an aneurysm. Hell, I don't even know if I can spell it right. Other than her, the only one of our team who we have lost has been Jenny Calender. I don't think you knew her, but she was a good person. Not to mention that she and Giles kinda had a thing going. But Angelus ended that with a sharp twist. She never even had a chance.

Sometimes I think that's what going to happen to most of us. We all ride the knife edge, and one day, probably way too soon, somebody is going to slip. Cordy has been kidnapped, had a piece of rebar puncture her gut. Willow has been attacked by a large furry female version of Oz. Giles got turned into something that looked like a bad b-movie demon. Buffy actually drowned, but Xander brought her back. Xander has been almost turned into a fish boy, hit with some kind of bolt which literally made him of two minds about anything. Kendra, I almost forgot about her. She died for good too, thanks to Drusilla. How could I almost forget another of your line? God that makes me feel just so pathetic. How many others of your line don't even have that much, somebody to remember them other than the Council..

We're all on borrowed time I think. Hell, Riley is missing in action, as much as he hurt Buffy, its still hard to think he may be dead. I was talking to the gang up in LA a while back, and they have lost a good friend too. A guy named Doyle stepped up to save Cordy, Angel and a bunch of innocents. I didn't know him, but he sounded like a good guy.

This is a bittersweet battle we fight. No support, no help, no reinforcements, save ourselves. Sometimes its so damn depressing that I don't know how any of us manage to keep fighting the good fight.

But we do. We hold the line. No matter the cost, we hold the line. The innocents can go to sleep without wondering if the world will still be there in the morning. Sometimes I wish I still had those blinders on, but then I realize that if we weren't around, things would almost definitely be a lot worse.

* sigh* I'm sorry for dumping all this on you. I know you probably don't really need it, but I just have to get this out. It all feels so damn useless sometimes. I go out and try to save the world, and I can't even save my friends. Sometimes it feels like all we're doing is slapping duct tape over cracks in the Hoover Dam. But then again, come tomorrow, I'll be back at it, peeling off the tape and slapping it over holes.

I'm going to cut this short tonight. If you want, write me back and let me know what's up.

Be Well Faith. The world needs more heroes. You have it in you to be a hero the world has never seen the likes of. Remember that. The rest of us need that light to follow, because sometimes this path is a dark and lonely one.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Till Then

Faith traced her fingers over the paper the letter was written on. There were faint spots where it looked like the pages had gotten wet, then dried. Very small spots. Faith look at them and as she thought about the content of the letter realized what had caused them.

Tears.

Whoever it was who was writing her was on the very edge they had spoken about. Life on the Hellmouth took its toll on everybody, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

Flipping her notepad to a fresh page, Faith began to write. After all, she had a friend now and she was going to do what she could to make them feel better.

After all, that what friends do