#divergent;

[wickedlehane]

@campusvxmp​ gets a starter!

The last thing Faith remembered was falling, falling, falling... Then the rain. And the grave.

And then she woke up, harsh, like slamming the brakes too hard in the driver’s seat. She was flung from darkness, realizing she must have fallen asleep. Or died. She thought she was dead, and given the amount of diodes and tubes attached to her, the Slayer couldn’t quite count that option out yet.

In the time it took to disentangle herself and exit the hospital sporting an ill-fitting, stolen outfit, Faith had persuaded herself that people didn’t waste that much medical energy on dead girls. But if she had died, it meant there was another Slayer roaming around Sunnydale (if Buffy hadn’t gutted her too). She couldn’t decide if that was comforting or not, the idea everyone and everything had probably moved on without her. Was this a chance to start over? Would the same wounds be open if she sought out the blonde and tested the waters?

Faith drew the stranger’s red cardigan tighter around herself as she stumbled down Sunnydale’s main street, past the theater’s glaring green sign, past her old apartment (no doubt repaired and occupied by new tenants), and towards... well, she didn’t know where. Distracted by trying to crane her neck and see any telltale signs of her fight with Buffy lingering on the rooftops, she bumped into someone on the sidewalk. Her first instinct was anger, but the exhaustion in her bones quickly ate that away.

“Sorry,” was all she could mumble, keeping her eyes turned down, just hoping it hadn’t been one of the Scoobies to catch her first.

[wickedlehane]

@tall-dark-n-broody

Not the first time she’d made a run for it, ass half-beaten. Faith seemed to have a habit of ending up in trouble, even where she wasn’t looking for it. Hell, prison had been the safest place for the reforming murderess until it really wasn’t. It started slow at first- a yard fight with a glamored demon, a vampire sneaking in on the night shift. Someone giving a few other prisoners ritual knives with which to strike at the Slayer. And the guards weren’t doing shit about it- if Faith didn’t step up, she was going to end up another sad statistic about women’s correctional facility fatalities.

Faith knew since Day 1 that she could break out any time she wanted, and there was little they could do to hold her back. But like she’d said to Angel, she really did want to make a reform. To walk that road to redemption- it just seemed the forces of darkness had other plans. And after the second attempt on her life, Faith coldly realized that she held the Slayer legacy still- no wonder someone wanted her dead. Well, wasn’t it more selfless of her to protect that power from abuse, even at the expense of her otherwise overall standing in society? Plus, it’d be better to protect the other inmates, she told herself.

They’d never understand the Slayer thing. This was for the best, really.

She’d be the first to tell you it sure as hell wasn’t easy being a wanted fugitive six hours north of your nearest contact with the outside world- but Faith managed to scrape by, just long enough to end up at Angel’s place in LA. He came to visit frequently enough, gave the girl regular updates. She knew he was around, and he’d never turn her down if she came needing help.

Right?

“Angel, open up,” she said, banging at his door. It was the dead of night, so surely the vamp was awake. Probably not expecting company, and Faith checked over her shoulder to make sure no creepy crawlies had followed her this far- she was fighting freaks and dodging law enforcement the whole way from Stockton. “It’s... I really need’ya help.”

[wickedlehane]

@peppyanddeadly​

It felt, in a weird sense, as if the universe were calling her bluff. When Faith was transferred up to the penitentiary in Stockton, she had to fill out paperwork for requested visitors- now, were they guaranteed to visit? No way. But there had only been two names Faith could conceivably draft onto the notice (and not just because they were the only two people whose contact information she reliably remembered).

The first of these had been, of course, Angel. He made the visits about every month or two, even though the drive sucked ass (from what she remembered of the bus trip). He passed her money for the commissary and kept her up to date on the world outside. Been that way for almost two years now. And the other name was Buffy. The Buffy she’d screwed over six ways from Sunday last they met. The Buffy who confronted her on that cold Los Angeles rooftop and almost ripped away that chance for reform that Angel had given her.

The Buffy who died about five months ago.

Angel had broken the news to the imprisoned Slayer and at first, she didn’t know what to do with it. She was sad, of course. And angry- better than thou Buffy. Of course she died saving the world. Faith was conflicted too, knowing she was the only Slayer left on the planet, sitting useless in a cell. But while it was better for society she stayed locked up, what were the forces of darkness doing unchecked? Was that even her duty anymore? 

(In a sense, yes, until the day she died. And Faith knew a list five miles long of people who believed that her death would be the best thing she had done for anyone lately. Maybe she was hanging on out of spite.)

So, when the guards said she had a visitor- a one Buffy Summers- Faith figured it was some sort of awful prank, or maybe a face-stealing demon (not off the table in her line of work). But curiosity got the better of her- after all, it wasn’t long ago that she herself walked back from the edge of death, pulling herself out of a grave in her mind. But Faith never truly died. Never really lived, either. So what was the difference?

The Slayer took a seat opposite the spitting image of Sunnydale days past and lingered a moment. She leaned in closer, enough for her breath to fog the protective glass, before grabbing the direct line phone, listening as it crackled to life. Faith’s low voice finally echoed into the receiver-

“Hey, B... It’s been a while. Is that really you?”

[wickedlehane]

@tormentedbeiings {buffy}

If Faith had been running for a day, she’d been running for a week. Kinda hard to keep track of time with no watch and a bad sleeping schedule. But, hey, on public transit she’d take what she could get.

Thankfully, a lot of long-haul busses were headed to LA, airport bound. With an overstuffed backpack (consisting of the only things she owned, plus a Game Boy she’d stolen from a sleeping kid about two or three states back), Faith looked like she could be just another traveler on her way to LAX. Destination? Anywhere but behind her. At least she could move in the daylight, which gave her a slight head-start on outrunning her demons.

The Slayer hopped off in Downtown LA before the Greyhound bus got stuck in some bumper-to-bumper traffic. She wasn’t entirely sure which way Sunnydale was, but after an all-nighter from Arizona, she needed to stretch her legs, check her coordinates, and maybe get some grub. Faith fished around in her pockets to find all the coins she’d managed to steal from seat cushions, beneath seats, and the occasional open purse.

“Tch. It ain’t enough for a meal, but... this has to be worth a coffee at least.” She sucked her teeth, counting the change. Yeesh. 

After some walking, she spotted a diner called Helen’s Kitchen that looked cheap enough- laminate countertops didn’t exactly scream ‘classy’- and grabbed herself a seat at the bar, furthest corner back so she could watch the door. Faith scanned for a bathroom too, in case she needed to freshen up or make an exit strategy. She grabbed a menu and tried to do the math on what she could actually manage to get with her meager coinage.

“Maybe just a water...” she muttered under her breath as a young waitress approached. Sitting here among businessmen at lunch, Faith was feeling more and more out of place, not just in the diner, but maybe in this whole damn city.

[wickedlehane]

@soulconfined

How long had it been?

The sleep seemed like one long day. Endless, restless. Faith didn’t dream while she was in the coma, because to call it a dream would imply it was pleasant and aspirational. No, for eight months Faith had lived a waking nightmare, trapped in her mind while her body withered in a forgotten hospital bed.

Graduation had passed, as had a summer break- hell, even another Christmas. Faith missed her birthday. New Year’s. And no one had ever expected her to wake up- so why the waste of effort, keeping her suspended in the state of living death while Buffy got to run around and have a life? Was it just a technicality not to let her die so that another Slayer wouldn’t be called to fight?

Having taken the information and clothes she needed from one unfortunate, lost visitor (and really, the woman should have known better- the whole wing of the hospital had been abandoned as the girl had), Faith stumbled her way out of the medical center into the cold night air. Things were coming back to her slowly, as she remembered how it was to live. What things felt, sounded, smelled like. Sunnydale looked the same as ever, but the Slayer felt as though everything had shifted two inches left. Not enough so you’d notice, but just enough to make every movement feel like a misstep. Crashing into memories you could have sworn were somewhere else.

And though she had been asleep since May of last year, her Slayer senses hadn’t dulled one bit, whether she wanted them to or not.

“I swear, I am not in the goddamn mood,” she said, her voice a bit hoarse. For as much as she was confused and putting the pieces together, she knew the unmistakable feeling of a vampire being nearby. It was a low pull in her gut- minding the scar tissue of a knife wound- and as much as she was eager to lash out at anything for what had been done to her, she was really saving it all for figuring out where Blondie was at. Faith spun, scanning the darkness for the offending demon. “If you’re here to get your ass kicked, let’s make it quick, okay?”

[wickedlehane]

@heartsings {Doyle}

Faith hasn’t dreamed since the coma, and frankly, that’s fine with her. Whether it was medications messing with her brain or more bullshit Slayer superpowers, her dreams were too vivid, too visceral, each one threatening to tear open her bleeding gut and bring her back to the edge of tortured existence. If she was going to sleep, sweet black oblivion was as close to dying as she would come tonight.

Her wet hair clung to her trembling form as she transitioned from a feral disposition to fetal position, wrapped in thick, unforgiving fabrics that Angel had given her to rest with. Shaking, scared, her eyes and cheeks were sunken, retreating into herself as she sought to become small and swallow herself inward. But she was the snake that eats its own tail, endlessly consuming her rage and fear until she’s choking on it, unable to die, all at once nourished and starving on the emptiness she’s filled with.

The morning came quickly and to her immediate disappointment, Faith was still alive. Even after all she’d done, after she’d begged Angel to end her torment. If she could help it, the Slayer (was that always going to be a part of her now?) wouldn’t go upstairs, even if the California earth quaked and the building was going to come down on top of her. Not quite a prisoner, not quite a guest, she slowly slipped from the bed and paced. Like a caged animal, wounded and pitiable but rabid all the same.

The floor was cold against her bare feet, sending little jolts of feeling up through her legs. Faith crept quietly around the place- Angel lived here. Huh, not bad. Were she not so numb grappling with the ramifications of her still being alive, she might have been a bit jealous. After everything he’d done... Even a vampire with a soul had more redeeming qualities than Faith did.

As she pondered her fate, she caught movement from the corner of her eye. “Angel?” she said softly, weakly. The man would never hide himself or try to sneak up on her, not if he was genuine in his desire to help her in her fragile state. “I’m serious, is someone down here?”

After no response, Faith scrambled for the kitchenette, finding a block of knives. Her hand trembled to pick one up, her mind flashing memories behind her eyes, of jackal knives and bleeding stomachs. Still, she armed herself, holding the utensil low against her thigh as she stalked around the corner wall. As she rounded the edge, peering past, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of a man, a stranger, waiting there. Somehow making it past the elevator shaft to end up in Angel’s living room. Faith flexed her fingers around the knife handle, keeping the weapon just out of sight.

                                 “W-who the hell are you?”

[wickedlehane]

@twicedied

Faith had conflicting emotions about this whole arrangement from the get-go. But the last time she’d been in Sunnydale she got a clear enough picture of how much everyone hated her (and she didn’t exactly blame them). If Buffy and the Scoobies were serious about covering for her out of prison, they must have really needed her to step to it.

(And since her little trip to Los Angeles, Faith was starting to figure out exactly what ‘it’ was. That path to redemption was just like walking the road to hell backwards- paved with good intentions the whole way through.)

She didn’t mind spending time in Spike’s crypt to lay low- there was no way she was going to ask to stay with the Summers girls, as she didn’t have enough good will to burn. Besides, big stone room, not much furniture? It was just like the slammer, but with more leg room. Spike didn’t even set off her slay-dar that much, though there was a overall sense of unease tugging in her gut, but that might have just been the wiggins Faith was getting over the actual ‘responsibility’ and ‘general lack of trust’ placed on her. 

But Angel had confidence in her. He had faith in her (hah). And that was all she needed.

So the big bad was some chick named Glory. This Slayer had dealt with scarier women in prison, with the butch sisters looking to shiv someone whenever they could. Faith would have killed to have a stake in her hand (and she could have killed with one), but she bit back those feelings quickly. Being asked to get back in the game after a year off was surprisingly difficult. This was a new Faith, one who was beginning to understand the weight of her choices- all of them, even the smallest of moments.

-

Spike was back late, by vampire standards, and when her strange roommate returned, she knew there was something else going on. Good, bad, Buffy, he wouldn’t say. Faith had her hands full that night with the Scooby commando squad, trying to slay a nest of vamps when Riley got up in her face about leadership qualities. Pissed her off, but she didn’t want to give in to her old vices, knock his teeth down his throat or anything like that. He didn’t like her, he didn’t have to like her, but damn it, the man had cement blocks for a brain.

When the sunlight finally broke and it seemed a decent hour, Faith found her way back to Revello Drive (she remembered the way) to check in with Buffy. God, she felt like a vampire, waiting for invitation inside. Not sure if she would get it, but she while she was still on the outs with half of Sunnydale, she wasn’t so much a ‘kick the door in’ kind of gal anymore.

“Hey, B? What the hell did you say to Spike last night? He had his knickers in a twist when he came back to the crypt.” Half wanting to kill the blonde Slayer, half wanting to throw himself on a sword for her.