Author's Note: For any of you who have already read this story, you might want to reread it because I've made HUGE changes to it. Mainly I changed what happens to Faith in prison and most of the interactions between Buffy and Faith because the first time around I copied those from another person's work. Namely, Michele's "Complement". If you haven't read that story, you should because it is the best Buffy/Faith story ever written in the history of fandom!!! You should be able to find her work in any Faith and Buffy fanfiction site. All right, onto my story if you still wanna read it.

Title: What Dreams Are Made Of. (1/?)

Author: Jem24x

Rating: PG-13 for language and mild sexual preferences

Disclaimer: Faith, Angel, and other characters appearing from Angel: the Series or Buffy: the Vampire Slayer are sole properties of Joss Whedon, Fox, and whomever else lays legal claim on them.

Spoilers: Angel seasons one & two. Buffy seasons one-five (after The Body).

Feedback: Sure, tell me what I'm doing wrong or right. Jem4x@hotmail.com

Liquid brown eyes fluttered open. A trembling pale hand swept away a few strands of dark locks that were matted down to her damp head. She quickly sat up, careful not to bump her head onto the bunk above her. She gazed down at her shaking hands and noticed that her whole body was trembling, too. A part of it was due to the harsh mid-November winds filtering through the barred windows, but most of it was due to her odd dreams.

"Faith?" A sleepy but concerned voice mumbled above her. "Faith, are you all right?"

Faith took a breath to rid her throat of the fear that had been rising like bile in the back of her throat. "Yeah, Jace, five-by-five." She mentally winced as she heard her own voice quake. "Go back to sleep."

 "Whatever you say, girl," the voice mumbled sleepily. "At least you didn't scream this time."

A faint ghost of a smile crossed Faith's pale features at the remark and was quickly gone as she ran a hand over face. She knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep for another hour or so, one of the disadvantages of being a Slayer.

A sudden lump rose in her throat at the mere thought of it. Slayer, her ancient vocation, the only thing that meant anything in her screwed up life and she even managed to screw that up. Faith's chocolate brown eyes automatically found the small barred window. The yearning in her soul that beckoned her to rise into the night along with the Creatures of Darkness was suddenly overwhelming. For the past couple of months she had managed to drown that yearning, that urge, with her own self-loathing and guilt, but it was a part of her being. It was something that was telling her she was supposed to be out there fighting that age-old war of Good vs. Evil.

Silently, she rose and made the two steps from the bunk to the window. She gripped the bars softly and stared longingly into the night sky. Faith knew that she could easily rip the bars off the window and escape, but she knew she wouldn't. She wanted retribution done for all that she did wrong. She wanted to be free of the blackness that had consumed her soul, but deep down inside, she knew she would never be free. She knew she didn't deserve it. Even if she did escape she had nowhere to go.

"Six months," Faith muttered with a bitter smile. A million to go… she added mentally.

With a soft sigh, she went back to her bunk and prayed to whomever was listening that she would be able to ignore this urge and at least find some peace to sleep for another night.

*          *           *

"Wilkins!"

The sharp shout quickly brought Faith out of yet another nightmare. She cursed under her breath for being woken up after what seemed like closing her eyes for five minutes. Quickly controlling a small bout of anger, she jumped to her feet as the metal bars swung open to let in a guard. She robotically held out two fists and the guard slapped the cold steel cuffs around them and shackled her feet.

"What's this all about, Davis," Faith asked annoyingly. "I've been a good little girl haven't I?"

"Got a visitor," the guard muttered as he used his nightstick to usher her out of her cell.

Faith's stomach suddenly did a backflip as she made her way down the block. What the fuck? "A visitor?" was her reply.

Her mind was suddenly racing. Angel hadn't visited in months and she sure as hell wasn't going to get any visitors from any of the Scoobies. Who the hell could it be? She was becoming a little frantic as she was led into the visitor's quarters and was placed in front of a booth with her head held down, afraid to see who might be at the other side of the two-inch bulletproof Plexiglas.

After a couple of seconds, she slowly raised her brown eyes to meet the sky-blue ones of a complete stranger. Faith cocked an eyebrow at the woman as she studied her. The stranger was around her early twenties with blond hair kept in a tight bun. She wore a business suit and surprisingly had a pleasant look on her face. She motioned for Faith to pick up the receiver, and she suspiciously complied.

"Who the hell are you," Faith quickly asked with a bit of venom in her voice.

The woman smiled into the phone and sounded as if she might laugh. "I'm Diana Rogers, your new…"

"Watcher," Faith quickly cut her off.

Diana looked a bit baffled. "What…"

Faith rolled her eyes and tried to control her anger. "Come on, as if the tweed and British accent didn't give it away."

Diana gave a questioning look at the guard. Davis merely shrugged and Diana turned her attention back on Faith. "Why…I…I beg your pardon! I was going to say, I'm your new defense attorney, just graduated from Oxford." She looked a little offended. "Have I known you were prejudice of people from the Mother Country…why…I…I wouldn't have…"

"Sorry," Faith quickly apologized, not wanting her to keep rambling on. "Bad experiences with people from Great Britain." An eyebrow shot up again. "Why would I need another defense attorney? I got my sentence already."

Diana eagerly pulled out a thick file and slapped it on the desk. "I found your case to be extremely intriguing, if not unfair."

"UNFAIR!" Faith shouted into the phone, stopping herself from rising out of her chair and noticing the guard tense up. "I fucking confessed!" She sat back, shaking her head in disbelief as she muttered to herself on the phone. "I belong here…what else do you fucking need from me…"

Diana flipped open the file and scanned through some of the papers, her brows scrunching in confusion. "You did confess to two murders…but there is no evidence at all, not even a body. They only had assault and battery charges to lock you up for a maximum of two years with parole in eight months, that and the point you are a juvenile…you could be walking out in two months!"

"Two months…what the…" Faith gripped the receiver so hard, she could hear it snapping under her grip. "Listen lady, I don't need another fucking trial…"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Wilkins, as a minor you have no choice," Diana stated firmly.

"Why the fuck are you coming here now after six months," Faith asked heatedly, her mind racing with memories of murder and mayhem.

"The D.A Investigations work rather slowly. Unfortunately in the great 'Land of the Free', Justice is blind as well as slow," Diana said distastefully.

"Great…just fucking great…" Faith mumbled angrily at herself.

She wanted a shot of redemption and if it meant being locked away for the rest of her life then she'd do it. She finally did something right for a change by turning herself in and paying for what she did and now, it looks as though she'll screw this chance up because the Mayor had been too good with covering up the murders.

"Time's up," Davis replied.

Diana closed the file and gave a soft smile. "I'll see what I could do for a court appeal. Until then just sit tight."

Before Faith could object, Diana hung up the phone and disappeared out the door. Faith could only seethe as Davis led her back to her cell, her shackles and cuffs she could so easily snap like a twig if she wanted to.

Davis unchained her and the bar doors slammed behind her. Faith began pacing around the cell, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, most of them anger and hate towards herself. It wasn't supposed to go down like this. This was supposed to be her chance for redemption and now some newbie British lawyer wanted to cheat her out of it. And that was another thing that was rolling through her mind. The lawyer was British. Faith didn't know whether or not if this Diana Rogers was sent here from the Council to pose as her new D.A. The Council probably couldn't get to her through the U.S legal system so they had to legally get her out of jail before they could do to her whatever the hell they wanted to. Even if it wasn't the case, Faith couldn't figure out why Diana Rogers would pick her case out of millions of others. Her case wasn't that special and she wondered why the woman even cared. No one cared for a murderer. Not even the two hundred plus vampire, Angel, that was on the same path to redemption. Sure he was there in the beginning, but he stopped visiting a long time ago, and Faith knew she had been forgotten and she knew she deserved everything that was sent her way. She just wanted to be left alone, to finally take responsibility for her actions and do the right thing.

So what the fuck does she think she's doing? Faith thought angrily.

"Fai…"

Faith snapped her head to the direction of the meek voice. Her dark eyes met emerald green ones as Jacinda looked at her from her perch on the top bunk.

"Fai, are you all right," she asked with worry in her voice.

Faiths shook her head amusingly and plopped back down on her bunk and threw an arm over her eyes. "Why do you keep asking me that? You're not supposed to care." No one is, she added silently.

Jacinda dropped down from her bunk and leaned against the bars. "Just because." She tilted her head to study Faith's lean form. "Five-by-five, though, right?"

Faith inwardly grimaced, but managed to force a small smile. "You know me, Jace, five-by-five."

Ever since she gotten here, Faith new that Jacinda had a small crush on her. Not too long ago, Faith would have used her. She was a little taller than Faith; lean and muscular, Puerto Rican with bronze smooth skin, braided long black hair, full lips, and emerald green eyes. She had been in the slammer longer than Faith had, for possession and theft. Faith thought it amusing that possession of crack-cocaine could land someone in jail for a minimum of five years than a self-confessed murder. However, Faith wasn't looking for a 'special someone'. She didn't want to fall back into hold habits of 'get some, get gone'. She was trying to be a different person. She was trying to change. No matter how hopeless to her it seemed.