Point of No Return

Title: Point of No Return

Part Title: Courage

Rating: T – Unlike the other parts which have a rather dark underside, this is just a little lighter, but uses more language.

Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Batman Begins crossover dealing with Faith Lehane.

Summary: Faith makes her choice and gets up her courage to make her move.

Spoilers: Anything through Angel Season 4 is fair game with minor spoilers. There are Batman Begins spoilers, as well as a few minor "Batman" spoilers. As this comes after "Batman Begins", it would make sense to say "Batman" spoilers, right.

Timeline: Faith is in prison, so anytime after Buffy Season 4/Angel Season 1. This is obviously following the first part, so after dear Mr. Ducard dies.

Dedication: I apparently can't get away from this story. Thus, it continues. I really have no idea where this story is going, but I figured it could be a mini-trilogy that could stand on its own.

Notes: I had to comment on the whole Batman out-of-character thing. That wasn't Batman back there, dearies… that was Mr. Wayne. And the only reason Faith was on him for "killing" was because her father was dead… and why? We shall see. I also love doing the tortured-Faith-childhood thingy… so that's that.

x-o-x

Part III

Courage

It took her all of five minutes to decide that any life was better than the one she was currently living. She had choices, too. She could go back to the way things used to be. It could all be five by five again. She could be feared by all, respected in the awe her figure in black leather brought. She could be the one again. She was chosen. She had every right to do what she wanted.

But, on the other hand, it was this blasé lifestyle that had ended her up in prison. She had been careless, nonchalant… they seemed like perfect personality traits that her father instilled in her. As she was pushed back and chained to her corner, her thoughts drifted back to the past. She didn't really remember her father and listening to her mother berate him was probably during one of her drunken or high rants. She sighed, resting her head in the hard corner, closing her eyes. Betty gave her usual grunt and slammed the door shut, the metal clang echoing until it became a dull roar that slammed into her head like a migraine.

All she could think was how much she didn't want to be here. She knew that she deserved this, but that was before she took her so-called destiny into account. She almost laughed at the thought of political string-pulling that it would take to get her out of here. She was something seriously lethal… everyone seemed to recognize it. In the beginning when she had been going through her frustration phase, it had taken four to six guards to take her down. Betty of course had her tazer gun, which was in Faith's opinion totally cheating.

But what Bruce had offered her… what he was willing to do for her… was something totally uncalled for. What had she done to deserve his kindness? Her father hadn't seemed the type to ask someone to watch over her. After all, he had abandoned her and her mother. She had been raised by her mother in the best way her mother knew how – which was with the drugs, alcohol and endless stream of men. Sometimes Faith wondered why she had such awful luck with men. And then she remembered the days where the drunks would flirt with her. She winced as she recalled her earlier days. They seemed like so long ago… but it had barely been five years.

She turned her head, attempting to get it in a more comfortable position. It was so hard to move, and they made these handcuffs too damned tight. She was a Slayer and could have them off in a grand total of two seconds flat if it was needed, but she felt compelled to leave them on. She was bad and this is what happened to the bad girls. There were consequences for her actions. She was scared to death to take them off because if she had that power, she could do a lot more damage and that was the last thing she wanted to do. She didn't want any more trouble. She wanted to be locked away from her destiny, away from what she was and what she had the potential to become. She had already fallen from grace and there was nothing that millionaire could do for her to break her guilty conscience.

She had sent her father away and because of that he was dead. She was almost relieved at this because the man had been a monster to her all of her life… never calling, never writing. Not like she cared, though. She had her mother to take care of her when she wasn't high, drunk or screwing. But that was her humble opinion. She was entitled to it, she supposed.

She kicked out her right leg, attempting to find even more comfort yet. This wasn't working… he got her all riled up, and it would likely be a week before they let her out of this hellhole again. She wanted to kick or punch something, but being chained to a corner of her tiny stone room was going to have to do… for now.

Faith closed her eyes again. She didn't want to go to sleep, no. The nightmares would come then. The nightmares would come that wore her father's face, spoke like that dork Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and preach to her like Buffy.

Faith's eyes snapped open again. Buffy…

Every time she thought of that blonde and her pesky kids, she felt her blood boil. Grinding her teeth, she shifted her weight and felt her hands scrape the wall. It wasn't a bad boil… it was a good boil. Passion gave her fire, gave her a spark of humanity. She had thought she lost her humanity years ago back in the days of naked alligator wrestling and strip poker between truckers and bikers. Or maybe it was almost as good as cruising that Harley through a guardrail down a steep cliff about forty feet until she had flipped off. Now that had been a wild ride.

But the days of dreaming of her past independence were over as long as she was chained to this corner. Her mother was dead. Her father was dead. The Mayor, the only person who had given a damn about her since she'd been called was dead. The only people who cared about her were convinced that this place alone would save her soul. All except for one… Bruce Wayne, with that charming smile and his million dollar promises. How she despised someone who could buy her off with money. He could snap his fingers and she would be his… live in his prison with his rules and his obligations. She knew that man behind the mask. She'd never seen the superhero, but then again, she was the superhero. She was the entire package, all down to the brawn. She may not have the brains, but she had the street intellect to do what needed to be done. He believed she could make a difference. He believed she was worth something more than Angel and his gang apparently did.

And it all traced back to the same person… Buffy.

Well, that blonde could have her Hellmouth and her vampire, too. Faith was done playing that game. It had royally screwed up her life. She had had her kicks and look at where it had gotten her. She had killed a man… accidentally, of course. She was doing her job and she had done something accidental. Too bad she couldn't just play the innocent The Powers That Be screwed my life card.

But she had felt sorry for herself enough. She had done way too much of the self-pity act to continue now. Were those real tears in her eyes? God, what was she… a wimp? Faith quickly brushed her face against her legs and felt her shoulders tremble.

She had such a great weight on her shoulders… she could hardly imagine Buffy's Slayer life now. But Faith… she had a great destiny and she was set to spend most of her good Slaying days in jail. The only good thing about that was the fact that her short lifespan would be extended with the whole twenty-five to life thing.

If she wanted to see the light of day when she was still young, she was going to have to play by different rules. It didn't matter if she was good. What mattered was that she had the power to do something that didn't involve deciding which pile of gloop she was going to eat today.

She was done. She was done playing Buffy's scapegoat. She was done playing Angel's redemption card. She was done feeling guilty over something she had done by accident. She was done spiraling out of control in something she couldn't control. She was done feeling unloved and unwanted. She was done using and wasting her life away, just like her loser mother… just like her loser father. She was done pretending that she was the perfect delinquent. She was just done.

Faith felt herself ease into sleep, her body falling slightly to the side. Luckily her chains held her wrists to the corner, making it impossible to slide off the cot.

At least where she was going there were better accommodations. Hopefully.

x-o-x

Five Years Earlier

"What do you mean, you're kicking me out?"

Thirteen-year-old Faith Lehane glanced down at the trembling form of Robin Lehane. She had been sitting at her wicker chair, rocking back and forth holding herself. Tears ran unchecked down her pale cheeks. She couldn't even look her daughter in the eye. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice full of her sobs, "I'm so sorry… I'm so, so sorry…"

"What have you done?" Faith asked, dropping her backpack on the floor behind her. Reaching down to the opened letter in front of her mother, Faith held it up and read the header. A moment later, the letter dropped from her hand, fluttering to the floor. "That son of a—"

"Faith, please, don't do this," Robin said, looking tearfully at her daughter. "Don't judge him because of this…"

"Mom, are you totally blind?" Faith asked incredulously. "Look at that letter… did you even read that letter? Did you?" She watched as Robin pressed her hands to her face, completely overcome by her own self-pity. "I don't believe this…"

"After everything that's happened in our lives…" Robin moaned into her hands.

"This was all his fault, Mom," Faith snapped, reaching over and pulling Robin's hands away from her face. "Dad did this to us… he brought it upon us. It's not your fault that you're unhappy and he's playing good cop, bad cop!"

"He's on death row," Robin whimpered. "How am I going to explain this?"

"To who, the Pope?" Faith demanded. "How can you act like this is the end of your life, Mom? This is the freedom you've been looking for! This is away from the southern comfort, the dope, the men… this is your chance to let go."

"How can I let him go?" Robin asked, gazing at her daughter's angry face. "And how can you not feel sorry for him…"

"He murdered a man, Momma," Faith whispered. "How can you defend him? How can you stand up for that… that monster?"

"That monster is your father," Robin shouted, getting to her feet. "And I love him!"

"You love… you love him?" Faith asked, kicking her bag aside and striding the full length of their small, dingy kitchen. "Oh, that's rich! How many times have you paraded your 'friends' around home all for the sake of that stupid contract you signed with him? I hate him! I hate him more than I've ever hated anything! Just look at yourself… do you know what he's done? You let that man destroy our lives. We could have been happier away from all of this… from him…"

Robin sank back into her chair and gestured helplessly at another letter open on the table. Gingerly, Faith walked over and lifted it up. After reading it, she closed her eyes and slammed it down, the pounding noise echoing throughout their entire house. Robin jumped in her seat, turning to look fearfully at her daughter. "I'm so sorry…"

"You stupid bitch…"

"Faith, honey…"

"How can you give me away like that?"

"It was his wishes…"

"We all make mistakes, Mom," Faith screamed. "How can you turn me over to a warden because of this?"

"Because he's on death row and I need help," Robin shouted back. She watched as Faith stomped out of her living room. "I'm so, so sorry…"

Faith stopped at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the wall, hot tears trailing down her cheeks. How many times had she come home to a cloud of putrid marijuana smoke? How many times had she come home to her mother's drunken stupor or finding her passed out on the front lawn? How many times had she found some stranger's underwear (or worse, used essentials) lying around the living room, kitchen or bathroom? How many times had she wished that things could have been different… that they could have been a real family?

Maybe if she wished things aloud, they could be different… but she never once opened her mouth. Henri Ducard had been out of their lives since she was five. He was dead in her mind. They finally received a letter saying that his final days were approaching because his eighth appeal or something had been overturned. He had been convicted of killing two men, possibly more, during a heist. Well… she wasn't afraid to show her feelings for him. She was ashamed that he was her father. She was also ashamed of her mother.

But she knew that Robin Lehane needed help… professional help. Faith needed to get the hell out of dodge, wherever that was going to lead her. She needed her freedom away from her mother's drug and alcohol addictions and her father's endless letters of streaming support that seemed to drive Robin even closer to the brink of insanity.

And after everything he had done, after everything he had said… Robin still loved him.

This made Faith hate him even more…

x-o-x

Present Day

Faith opened her eyes with a start. She kept hearing their voices in her dreams… Henri's voice came back to her, along with her mother's. She remembered the day she buried her mother. It was just a few months before she was called. She remembered standing next to her foster parents and watching as a big machine lowered her mother's plain wooden casket into the ground. Faith had kicked dirt on top of it before running away. By the time her foster mother had found her, Faith was in tears.

Faith never cried. She was above crying. She had spent years fortifying the hard shell she had built around herself. Her defenses came from living with her hard-core mother. Her defenses came from dealing with her foster family, her foster mother later discovered to be her Watcher. Her beautiful, revered Watcher… also dead.

It never really occurred to her before that the only people in this world who ever cared about her were dead.

Everyone who grew to care for her died.

She was a curse on everyone. More than anything, she was a curse to herself. Faith knew she was being hard on herself, but she had to do something. With a cry of frustration, she brought her knees to her chest. Her head felt like it was about to explode. She was making little whimpering sounds. She wanted to scream, to cry, to shout out how much she hated this world and everyone in it. This was the life she had given herself. Her calling was the worst thing that had happened yet! And by the time she was out, she would be a middle-aged vampire Slayer. That was not in the cards. No wonder Buffy never took her seriously…

Burying her head into her kneecaps, she realized what she had to do. She was scared to death of facing that hostile world again. She could walk through and act uncaring, but she wasn't. She cared about this world more than people realized, she thought. She had done everything in her power to save Sunnydale from the vampire threat, hadn't she?

"Everyone makes mistakes, Faith," she heard a gentle voice telling her. It belonged to her Watcher. "Everyone, including myself, makes mistakes. And what do we learn? We learn how to pick ourselves back up. We learn that life is never easy and never fun. It's damned hard and we spend all our lives going out of our minds, just waiting to see what happens next. Your life is a curse, Faith. What you do… how you live… how you'll die… it was a curse given to you by someone. You're not innocent. You'll never be innocent. But you don't have to fear, either."

Fear was useful…

"Trust your fear, Faith. Use your fear. And have courage, Faith… have courage in yourself. Courage is not the absence of fear but it's the realization that something is more important than fear. What you are… what you've become… you're a symbol, Faith. You're an icon to those out there who have nothing left but their fear. You have the power to make great things happen. You have the power to inflict change. We might fall along the way, but that's what makes it such a great adventure. It's the journey. It will always be the journey that makes it worth it."

She had to have courage…

"You are darkness now. You have a side that no one, not even your friends can see. They will know you, but they will never know your fear. You do not fear the darkness. You fear yourself… you fear what you have it in you to become. You fear what you can do with your power and what you can do without…"

Faith brushed her wet eyes on her kneecaps before heaving a great sigh. She knew in her heart her mind had already been made up.

"Have courage, Faith. Have courage for yourself. Have courage for what I can teach you. You will be a Slayer, Faith. You will be an excellent Slayer. You will know darkness and death, but you will have a hell of a time with it. You were chosen, one girl in all the world with the power to stop the forces of darkness. You are a force of darkness. Through you great things will happen, but you must let them."

In her darkest hour, she couldn't control that power. It had ruled her body. It had ruled her soul. But she was fighting back. With every breath she had and every fiber of her being that she possessed, she was fighting back.

And now that woman was dead. Along with everyone else who mattered.

A beam of sunlight filtered through her high window. Blinking up into the only light she had in her tiny cell, she bent her neck to the left, and then to the right.

Bending to the left, she smacked her wrists on the wall behind her, creating such a ruckus that Betty suddenly reappeared, tazer gun in hand. "What?"

"My lawyer," Faith rasped, riding her teary face from the matron. "I need to speak to my lawyer."

"Who?"

"Angel!" Faith all but shouted. "Get me Angel."

"You're not in any position to be making—"

"Please," Faith whispered. Betty lowered her weapon and lifted her flashlight, shining the beam across Faith's room and finally settling it on her face. "Please… I need to speak with him."

"Are you ill?"

"What?" What did that have to do with her request?

"I thought for a moment you were actually pretending to be polite."

Faith wanted to scream at her, but she paused, her breath coming in harsh, throbbing tones that shook her entire body. She was pumped full of adrenaline. She wanted to grab that tazer gun and plug Betty's neck a few times with it, but her restraint stopped her. Her courage to do something other than the bad stuff stopped her. "I'm trying," Faith admitted in a low voice. "Could I please contact my lawyer?"

"All right," Betty said. "I'll have your lawyer contacted."

Betty turned to walk away when Faith suddenly had a different thought. "Wait!"

The heavy footsteps stopped. "Yes?"

"Bruce Wayne," Faith shouted back, throwing her voice to the barred door. "Call Bruce Wayne."

"That talkative men in the rags?"

"The one and only," Faith smirked.

"What do you have to do with him? He's just a rich kid with delusions of grandeur and circumstance," Betty muttered. "That kid will never amount to anything unless his money is put there… and I bet that has gone places no man has gone before…"

Faith listened as Betty ranted her way back down the corridor. She heard some of the other patrons slamming around at this rude interruption between the highest security prisoner and the matron. The fact that they had actually had a civil conversation meant that there was hope for her yet.

x-o-x

End part.

As always, feedback is most welcome. Comments, critiques, spasms… I would be most appreciative.