Endymion's Repose

Prologue

Nights were always the hardest. That was when the urge to patrol, to be out and about in the world, to *slay * always hit her the hardest. Sometimes she sat up in bed after lock down, thin blanket strewn across her legs, eyes drawn to the window, watching the night drift deeper, hearing a call and unable to answer it. Occasionally she found her fingers twitching, shaping as if they were trying to clutch at an invisible stake. She couldn't recall the number of nights she'd fallen asleep thusly, back against the wall, head resting against her chest, but her body still remembering how to wait, how to rest without sleeping. In short, how to stay alive.

Only the rules for staying alive in here were much different than the ones out there were.

Faith grimaced as she ghosted a cautious touch over her cheek, now bearing five deep scratches courtesy of the nut in cell thirty-eight. The girl was a newbie, in for shooting a cop over a packet of crack. Supposedly, they'd run her through detox but if her odd behavior was any indication, then it hadn't taken. At lunch today, she'd tried to gouge her eyes with a fork and Faith had had the bad sense to try and stop her. She was now wearing her reward for her kindness across her face. 'I just hope she was clean,' Faith thought bleakly. The warden and guards had all sworn up and down that she was but Faith noticed they'd still sent her to the doctor for a blood work-up. 'If I get AIDS or something because of this, I'm going to be seriously pissed the next time I talk to Angel.'

Angel. As always, her mouth twitched a bit before giving into the temptation to smile. A real smile and not one of her trademark smirks. She'd mentioned how she was jonesing for some chocolate on one of his previous visits and damn him if he hadn't pulled some strings and presented her with a box of Hershey's. A box they'd actually allowed her to keep, even though she'd seen a few of the girls eyeing it covetously. She'd pass a few bars out tomorrow to some of the big fish, that would earn her some brownie points plus assure her ass didn't get beat down over a few candy bars.

Fighting over candy bars when just months ago, just a year ago, she'd been fighting vampires and demons. And a year ago, she wouldn't have appreciated something as simple as the gesture of being given those candies. There was so much she had taken for granted.

In here, that just wasn't an option anymore. The bird was in its cage and only in that cage did one begin to clearly understand things. There was finally time in here. Time to slow down, time to think, time to think and repent. And for the girl who had sworn to never regret, she found herself with regrets a plenty.

Like not being able to be out there helping Angel. Angel was doing the work she was supposed to do. The work she had forfeited the right to do the day she'd joined forces with the Mayor and switched bodies with Buffy. Didn't matter that everything had turned out all right in the end. The mistake was still there and she had to live with it. That was what she was doing--living with it, day after day. Some days were better than others. Some days she wished Angel had killed her because the boredom, the anxiety, and guilt got so bad she could feel her eyes drifting over the guards, gauging how easy it would be to snap their necks and get the hell out of here. Times like those made her skin crawl with shame and fear, the shame of having such thoughts and fear at how easy it would be to fall into that crack. And if she did, there would be no turning back, no Angel to save her. She killed a cop and they'd fry her. They'd do it now but she wasn't giving the option. Faith knew how to behave and in this case, good behavior was the only thing keeping her off of death row. That and the fact she'd turned herself over.

They'd do it now but she wasn't giving the option. Faith knew how to behave and in this case, good behavior was the only thing keeping her off of death row. That and the fact she'd turned herself over.

A glint of light distracted her from her musings, eyes automatically tracking the oddity before her brain registered something was out of place. She tensed, eyes straining through the forced darkness before she heard the footsteps. Ah, night watch. The guards had probably just changed, she realized. The ritual was an old one by now, but it never ceased to startle her. The only thing that saved her was that the guards were out there and she was in here. God help the one that tried to approach her in the darkness.

She hated this. She hated that she had to second guess her every action and thought. She hated the feeling of constant suppression and explosion combined in one frustrating package. Every step had to be watched, every motive examined or else she might fall back into the cracks that had nearly claimed her before. She couldn’t even let a cop walk past without wondering how long it would be before the boredom and the frustration got to her, how long before she reached out and snapped an ever so fragile human neck.

The rap of a nightstick against the bars of her cell gave her pause. She frowned, the sense of something not right hitting her with extreme force. Most of the time, the guards took special care to be silent on their night rounds. It was hard enough putting some of the inmates to bed; waking them up after having successfully done so was just asking for trouble.

A light bright and burning hit her eyes, causing tears to well as the harsh beam of a flashlight caught her full in the face. She blinked in disorientation, shaking her head from side to side in sightless supplication before burying her face in her blanket-covered knees. The clicking of locks being turned and undone met her ears and she stumbled to her feet, nearly tripping over her blanket in the confusion.

"Who's there?" she demanded, voice low with that feral edge that always accompanied slay mode. Which like it or not, she found herself in.

It was hard to see much beyond a general outline, just a human shape in darkness punctuated by swirls of light across her aching eyes. That flashlight had really done a number on her vision. Even without it, she knew she was in trouble. She knew in the same way every Slayer worth her salt knew danger when it was staring her in her blurry-eyed face. She backed up just a bit more, her hands reaching behind her, to let her know before she hit the wall. And still the figure stalked forward, silent and graceful. Too graceful.

Faith knew that if she was wrong she could end up on death row or serving time for the rest of her life. However if she was right, then that death was going to come a little more immediately if she didn't do something.

She dropped down into a crouch, cursing the lack of space and the absence of any other guards. 'Cops,' she snorted. 'Never around when ya need them to be. Oh no, but if I was knocking off some store to get supplies for a slay, they'd be all over my ass. Not fair.'

Now was not the time to contemplate the fairness (or lack thereof) of the universe. Maybe B could afford to be all long-winded and moony but then B also had back-up. Like that muscle bound Army boy toy of hers. Faith had herself and the darkness. The only two things she'd ever really called her own.

Swirls aside, she could make out the dark blue of a guard uniform. It should have made her relax, should have settled the knots in her stomach. And it might have if she could see a face. She knew every cop here on sight, some by name, and none of them had ever moved in on her like this. They'd known better after one of the other inmates had tried to get fresh with her and Faith had done everyone the favor of breaking her arm in several places. She'd earned some downtime for that one but she still didn't regret it. It had earned her a rep for taking no shit off anyone in here, guard or inmate alike, and sometimes that came in pretty handy.

She held her breath, waiting for the figure to cross into the thin beams streaming from the window and cutting into the darkness, waiting for confirmation… It would take her a second and that might be a second too long. Everything in her screamed at her to fight, to lash out and save herself. To hell with everyone else, her instincts screamed. And hard as it was, she held back, needing confirmation, needing to be sure. Needing not to make another mistake and strike out blindly, robbing another innocent person of their life.

Time seemed to fracture, snapping off the seconds like pictures for framing. White hands curving dangerously into fists, and then the glimmer of gold, yellow rising out of nothingness. Faith felt her body reacting, leg snapping up and outward to land a solid kick in the thing's chest. The bars thudded with the impact of the body, followed by a bit-off snarl that sounded ominously like the growl of a rabid animal.

"You know," Faith observed coolly, in spite of the adrenaline hot and frantic rushing through her veins, permeating blood and heart, "I get put away and you'd think your kind would be happy. I mean --"

The thing lunged for her again, and she turned her shoulder to it, bringing an elbow up and back, her efforts awarding her with a grunt and a reprieve as the creature hit the floor with a loud thud. "I mean, it's not like I'm out on the streets, not torching your nests like I should be. Oh, no."

The vampire moved to get up, but even in the dark light, her eyes already adjusting, Faith saw it and was faster. A boot to the throat and the creature was down again. With the same swiftness, she straddled it's chest, grabbing it by the hair and slamming its head into the floor, every few words delivering another thumping of the head against the hard cement slab. "I'm just sitting quietly in my cell doing my time, not bothering a soul. And are you happy with that? Are you grateful? No, of course not. Instead you bust in here--after visiting hours, I might add, probably to kill me?"

A growl came through the darkness, the vampire reaching up and using the force of its body, throwing the Slayer across her small cell. The distance was short, not enough for her to pick up enough momentum for the impact to be harmful, but enough to knock the wind out of her. Enough so that she took two slashes from the knife - and since when did bloodsuckers carry knives - the creature brandished at her before she managed to disarm it, breaking its arm in the process.

"Damn, you are trying to kill me. Isn't B keeping you guys busy?" She launched herself forward, a flurry of kicks and punches, wondering when the noise would bring the rest of the guards running. The vampire stumbled backwards again, and sweeping her feet between its legs, it landed on its back for the second time that night. "Or did you just figure that because I wasn't the big fish, you didn't have to worry?"

Faith dove at it again, straddling it before it had time to think or react. A grab and a twist broke the creature's neck, but that wouldn't leave it down for long. Panting now, more from the adrenaline rush than any real work on her part, Faith racked her brain for a way to turn the vampire into a proper pile of dust, while trying not to bristle from insult. At least if something out there wanted to send an assassin after her, why not something that was a real threat? Some kind of venom spitting demon or a vampire that spent most of its unlife kicking ass and taking names - not this wimpy wannabe that made it just a little too easy for her.

Still, now was not the time to be picky. If she didn't move fast enough with her luck the guards would show up and she'd have a hell of a time explaining this. Her eyes tore around the cell before alighting on her unlikely salvation.

She scrabbled for the metal tin under her bed, feeling the body beneath her begin to stir and pressing her foot crushing against his Adam's apple as she strained. A cold hand caught her leg, trying to pry it off but she kicked and was rewarded with a whimper. 'Gotcha,' she thought as her fingers caught then dragged the small thin case out. "Hello Kitty" greeted her with a smile and this time she grinned back, prying the pencil box open and removing one of those sharpened pink monstrosities Angel had gotten her on one of his trips. For some reason she hadn't understood, Angel had thought she might want to keep a record of her thoughts in this hellhole and had picked her up a black fuzzy journal--and a box of Sanrio pencils. The journal had been fine…but she'd had to hide the pencils. They were just too embarrassing and she did have a rep to maintain in here.

Pencil in hand, Faith leaned back forward, her face sweetness personified. The vampire's eyes widened as he saw the sharpened implement in her hand and opened his mouth to scream… A scream that rasped away like the wind in the trees as the stake drove home. She twisted, pushing the pencil deeper and watched as the creature exploded into ash and dust.

She sat back, chest rising and falling rapidly as she kicked the dust off her legs, wrinkling her nose as she did so. Her body screamed for more action and it was with some effort that she marshaled herself. She felt herself teetering, the taste of the kill in her mouth and the need to hunt rising. 'No,' she wrapped her arms around herself with a hopeless sound not unlike the vampire's whimper. 'I can do this. I can be in control. Think about something else, Faith. Think about cleaning the cell up, or trying to explain what the noise was all about when the guards come.'

As unlikely as it sounded, she started to feel better. True, those were petty trivialities for the Slayer to worry about but they grounded her and she so needed that grounding right now. These were the times that made her respect Angel, made her awestruck that he fought these impulses and he won. Trouble was, he would go on fighting them, everyday, never resting, never letting himself slip. If she wanted to rejoin the real world, that was what she would have to do, too.

And she wasn't sure she had it in her.

She stared down at the ashes coating her feet wondering who the hell would want to kill her? Okay, scratch that. Who the hell wanted to kill her bad enough to send a vampire into a prison after her? Who the hell had the kind of muscle and power to sneak someone into her cell? She could think of only one organization with motive enough: Wolfram and Hart.

"Oh hell," she snapped the pencil in her grip, then glanced at the broken remains. "Oops."

***End of Prologue