Spoilers: You should not read this if you haven't read "Vultures and Thieves" yet. This also takes place after "Checkpoint," season 5, and my Willow/Tara story "Possibilities", so you should have read up to that point too.

Chapter 1 "What is it, Faith? Is it from that guy who visits from time to time?" Rebecca asked. Faith shook her head. "No, it's from, well, I'm not sure what to make of it." She read the end of the letter again.

"This is the phone number for our new house. If you ever find yourself in a real emergency and you don't know where else to turn, call this number and ask for me. Stay strong. Signed, Tara." Faith remembered the compassionate young blonde woman who visited her in prison a few weeks ago. When she read the letter to herself, she heard Tara's voice.

"I don't really know her all that well," Faith explained, "but back when I was creating trouble, I hurt her. More importantly, I hurt the love of her life even more."

"So what is this?" Rogue asked. "Some form of getting back?"

Putting the letter back in the envelope, Faith waved Rogue's question off. "Never mind, it's complicated."

"Most everyone in here hurt _somebody_, Faith," Corinne replied. "We're pretty understanding."

"We're not here to talk about my own personal drama," Faith reminded them. "This is a Slayers meeting. So what's new?"

Faith, of course, was still just an inmate at the Women's Correctional Facility here in Los Angeles. Despite her expectations, however, she had become the leader of a prison gang called, oddly enough, the Slayers. The fact that her nomination had practically been approved by the old leader _after_ her death, just made it stranger. That being said, she had made it her business to act like a real Slayer. There weren't any vampires in the prison (not anymore, anyway), but that didn't mean it wasn't full of predators - and prey. Her cellmate Rebecca, a skinny white girl busted for crack possession, would be considered prey, although her health and self-confidence had improved markedly now that all her withdrawal symptoms were behind her.

The Vipers, naturally enough, were the most dangerous form of predators. Led by a first-class bitch named Bryce, the Vipers liked throwing their weight around the prison. Most junkies, check forgers, and other petty criminals weren't very good at defending themselves. Many of them, especially the newer ones, earned the dubious privilege of becoming "honorary" Vipers for a week or two, when they were basically treated like toys. It didn't help that Bryce and one of the corrections officers were in cahoots in some way.

That was then, Faith thought with an internal sigh, and this was now. It used to be that the Slayers and Vipers went at it, while all the non-members got caught in between. Now, however, Faith had marked her ascension to head of the Slayers - a remarkable feat in itself, seeing as how she hadn't even been a member before - by issuing directives that the weak and helpless prisoners were to be protected from being victimized or exploited by the Vipers. Some of the Slayers had a problem with that, but Faith had found she could still intimidate people. "For a good cause," she reminded herself.

"What was that, Faith?" Rebecca asked.

Faith smiled. "Nothing. Just thinking about old times."

Corinne snorted. "Most Slayers do at one time or another. It's gotten harder ever since you transformed this group into a bunch of UN peacekeepers. Solitary is up; so are trips to the infirmary."

"I've kept track," Faith said somberly. Corinne, who had been a top lieutenant with the Slayers before Faith's arrival, had a valid point. These were criminals they were talking about, and most didn't give a damn what happened to the others. Since this was her doing, however, Faith had decided that she should shoulder more of the burden. "I think we need to pull back a little. Not try to do everything from Day One. For starters, we're not going to retaliate for every little incident involving the Vipers."

"You're kidding," Rebecca said flatly, but Deirdre, Corinne and Yolanda were nodding their heads. Faith still needed their support; she had only been in charge for three or four months, and all three of them had been with the Slayers for years. Rogue looked a little surprised as well, but Storm was impassive.

"You talk to a lot of them, Rebecca," Faith told her. Her other order upon joining the Slayers was that Rebecca, Storm, and Rogue were to become members as well. Rebecca had become a kind of informal go-between to the crackheads and other, more vulnerable prisoners. Storm and Rogue, who were actually demons which closely resembled humans, and who had been given those nicknames after they showed the "X-Men" movie in prison because they looked like "mutants", were good for counsel. Obviously they had both seen things in their couple centuries of existence. "You've seen how they're acting. It's like they know a new sheriff's in town, and they've started acting belligerent. I've seen one or two physically provoking a fight, and a lot more just going out of their way to piss Vipers off. They have to realize that what the Slayers want is peace and stability, not a victory in battle. If they keep it up, they're just going to alienate the other members. Hopefully," Faith said, "when they see us only responding to major infractions, they'll settle down." She paused for a second. "God, I do sound like someone from the UN."

Due to the fact that she pretty much idolized Faith, Rebecca usually went along with whatever the Slayer said. This time, however, she folded her arms and frowned at Faith. "I hope this doesn't mean that you're cutting them all loose."

Faith put one hand over her heart. "Swear to God, cross my fingers, Becca." Seeing that humor wasn't quite the way to go here, Faith tried the serious approach. "Trust me, Rebecca, if Bryce or anyone else tries to screw with someone's life, we'll be there. I mean, other than the ones who are still fighting withdrawal, have you seen anyone who looks especially haunted? Like before, when there were 'honorary' members who had one or more of the Vipers putting their hands, or worse their fingers, where they didn't belong?"

Rebecca shook her head, and her hands slowly dropped into her lap. "No, for a prison, this place could be a lot worse if it weren't for what you've done. If you say that things aren't going to change in here, then I trust you. I remember those first few days here before you arrived," she added softly, and a faraway look appeared in her eyes.

Deirdre shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Not that it wasn't uncomfortable anyway; the seven of them were perched in bleachers in the exercise yard. "Faith, we were never so sick and twisted as the Vipers have been since Bryce took over, but the Slayers weren't pristine either, you know? We were a gang too, and occasionally one or another of the Slayers took advantage of people. Do we really have credibility here?"

"We do now," Faith replied confidently. "People go to prison so they can make up for something they once did. Well, that's what we're doing now. And we all have plenty of time left, don't we?"

"I have a parole hearing soon," Yolanda offered.

"How soon is soon?" Faith asked.

"About three years."

They all laughed. "I've been here fifteen years since they sent me up the river for killing my pimp," Yolanda explained. "You think three years looks like much compared to that?"

"IQ," Storm murmured.

Everyone fell silent. "IQ" stood for "Ice Queen," one of the many nicknames bestowed upon Officer Roth, the so-called "captain of the guard" on the women's side. She was almost certainly the one offering Bryce help on the sly; most suspected a sexual angle, which also turned most off. Sure enough, Roth strolled over to their group in a few seconds and smiled. It was a patently insincere one. "Faith, the warden wants to see you. Now," she ordered.

"What did I do?" Faith said innocently.

"A lot," Roth replied, "but as far as the warden knows, probably nothing. Let's go." She motioned with her stick.

Faith shrugged her shoulders and, tucking the envelope into her back pocket, gave Rebecca's hand a quick squeeze before she got up to go. It was only until they were halfway across the yard that Faith realized she never had a chance to give the second new order. Oh well, it could wait until tonight.

_____________________________________________________________________

"I've heard a lot of things about your little gang."

"What gang?" Faith said blankly.

Warden Stanwyck chuckled lightly. "Of course, no gangs here. Well, let's speak in hypotheticals. If there were gangs in my prison, I expect they wouldn't get along very well."

"Probably not," Faith agreed.

"And you'd expect all the nonmembers to get caught in the crossfire, wouldn't you?"

"It depends on the gang, I suppose."

"Or perhaps the gang leadership?" Stanwyck said with a knowing smile.

Faith realized that she should be choosing her words even more carefully than usual. "Some people get their kicks from different things," she replied.

Stanwyck gestured broadly as he turned in his chair and looked out his window. "Well, isn't this facility a perfect example of that? Everyone is in here because they got their kicks in a way that the law disapproves of. Like the drug users, for example. Heroin, crack, powder cocaine, Ecstasy - like you said, some people like that sort of thing."

"You could read it like that."

Pulling out some papers, Stanwyck stared at Faith. His smile seemed much too satisfied, like there should be canary feathers in his teeth. "Ever hazard a guess as to what percentage of our population is here for nonviolent offenses?"

"I have a pretty damn good idea," Faith thought to herself, but sometimes you had to play to your image. "I'm not big on numbers," she instead answered.

"Sixty-five percent. How do you like that?" Stanwyck made a good show of appearing sorrowful. "And three-quarters of them are in here for drug offenses. They don't look very good when they first come in, do they? Like your friend Rebecca Tynan. You probably know all about her background."

"Actually," Faith told him, "I don't know all that much. I figured she'd tell me about it if she wanted to."

As if he hadn't heard her last words, he opened a file folder and began to read out loud. "Rebecca Tynan, age 20, Caucasian, hair color dark blonde, eyes blue."

Startled, Faith sat up straighter. "Hey, hey, I don't have a right to know this."

"I was told you were closer than that," Stanwyck said. Faith thought she detected the hint of a leer in his voice, but she couldn't be sure. "Let's see, high school dropout, dead father, alcoholic mother, runaway." He sighed piously. "Ah, you hear that story all the time, don't you? So sad, don't you think?"

Faith couldn't stop the shivers that ran up her spine. Those might as well be words in her own file; in fact they probably were. If she hadn't been called as the Slayer, might she have ended up like Rebecca?

"Hm, tsk tsk tsk," Stanwyck murmured. He clucked his tongue as if he hadn't read the file before. "Got hooked on crack, turned a few tricks to support the habit - a few, I'll bet - got busted for possession, five years' time. I'm thinking she didn't look too good when you first met her."

"No, she didn't," Faith said softly. Homelessness, drugs, prostitution - an old story, like the warden had said, but it could have been hers too. And he was also right about Rebecca; she had been a physical and emotional wreck when Faith met her. A year ago she supposed she would have bullied Rebecca. Instead Faith had tried to make things easier for her, and it was probably the best thing she had done in a long time.

"I've got some more numbers here, plus reports from the guards," Stanwyck continued, holding up another folder. "Fights are up. So are trips to the infirmary. The funny thing is, most of the people involved are suspected gang members. Most of them are violent offenders. We keep separate stats, you know, and lately life for the nonviolent criminals has gotten a lot easier. I've heard that one of the . . . well, if we had gangs, that is, I've heard 'stories' that a gang might have started feeling protective all of a sudden."

Faith shrugged and put her hands in her pockets. "Don't see what you want with me. _I_ haven't done anything wrong."

"Rehabilitation isn't exactly in vogue these days," Stanwyck said pensively, "and some wardens would be happier if inmates hated prison more than usual - you know, emphasis on 'deterrence' - but I think these people might be less likely to return to the old life if they actually had the peace and freedom to rehabilitate themselves in here. And that," he said, pointing a finger at a surprised Faith, "is where you come in."

"Say what?"

Chapter 2

Faith was still trying to figure if Warden Stanwyck's motives were as pure as he made them out to be when Rebecca found her in the library. "Faith?" she asked. "Are you in trouble?"

"I might be," Faith mused. "I think we need an emergency meeting. You'd better let the others know. Dinner's too public, so some other time tonight." She looked at Rebecca closely. She could still use another ten pounds, but overall she looked pretty good. "Rebecca? I meant what I said before. Women like you, they're going to be all right - or at least, as all right as you can be in prison." Faith smiled crookedly.

Rebecca responded with a nearly exact copy of Faith's grin. "Damn, she's becoming more like me every day," Faith thought wonderingly.

"I'm sure they'll be glad to hear that, but none of them can be as all right as I am. They don't share a cell with you." Then she turned around and hurried out to find the others, so she didn't see by her face how touched Faith was.

________________________________________________________________________

"So what did Stanwyck want you for?" Storm asked Faith.

A lot of prisoners were watching television. They gave Faith and her friends, who sat in one corner of the room, a wide berth. The Vipers weren't that stupid, and no one else _wanted_ to know what they were talking about.

"It was friggin' surreal, I can tell you that much," Faith replied cautiously. "I've never met him face to face before."

"I have," Deirdre said. "He's creepy. A real zero on the sincerity scale."

"He reminded me," Faith suddenly realized, "of this guy I used to work for. He was another one of those people who smiled a lot and never meant it. I hope that doesn't make Stanwyck a psychopath too."

Rogue was practically bursting at the seams. "So what was it, a warning?" she finally asked.

"For me, no. For the rest of you, yes."

The others looked at each other, mystified.

"Yeah, I'm still pretty surprised myself," Faith admitted. "He's _gotta_ have an angle, but for the life of me I can't figure it."

"What's the message?" Corinne said.

"He wants the Slayers to keep doing what they're doing," Faith replied, sounding as if she didn't believe what she was saying.

Yolanda gave Faith a look. "You didn't . . ."

"No, of course not," Faith said indignantly. "I acted like the gangs didn't exist. It's not like the guards don't tell him everything, you know. He said he wants us to go on protecting the weaker members. Kept throwing the word 'rehabilitation' around like he was some New Age administrator or something. At least there I could smell the bullcrap a mile away."

"Why did he need to tell us this?" Storm wondered. "He could have just allowed it to continue and done nothing."

Faith bit one of her fingernails. That habit really needed to stop, she thought. "Because he's setting guidelines." When they simply stared at her, she tried to explain. "Basically, he doesn't like the increased number of fights between violent offenders. He thinks that also increases the chances that someone's going to get a knife in the eye. What he does like is how the drug users and petty criminals are staying out of the infirmary. So he made it clear that if any suspected member of the Slayers got in a fight with a Viper, they'd get two weeks in solitary, no exceptions."

It was all the others could do to not burst out at the top of their lungs. They managed not to get anyone's attention, however. "What the f--k is he trying to do to us then?" Deirdre whispered in a rage. "We can't very well do what he _does_ like if he's keeping us from doing what he _doesn't_."

"Because the rule doesn't apply to me," Faith said quietly.

There was a moment where no one said anything. "So what you're saying," Yolanda finally said, "is that if any of us get in a fight, we get two weeks in solitary, but you can get in as many fights as you want and nothing will happen to you."

Faith merely nodded.

"You're right," Storm added, "there has to be an angle. Perhaps he's issuing a challenge to you, testing your commitment."

"Or maybe," Deirdre suggested, "he thinks you have to lose a fight sooner or later."

"Funny you should say that," Faith replied, "because that was one of his many facts and figures. It was like having an accountant on my back. He even had a list: how I've never been in the infirmary for more than twenty-four hours, how I've never lost a fight, how I never use weapons, how I've never struck a guard . . ."

Rebecca chuckled. "So you never held a broken mop handle to a guard's throat. I must have dreamt more that night than I thought."

"That was a special case," Faith said matter-of-factly. Obsessed with her supervisor Officer Roth, Officer Eileen Mayfield had arranged the murders of two would-be leaders of the Slayers. She had hoped to ensure the Vipers' dominance, the theory being that that would make Bryce happy, which would make Roth happy, which would make Roth interested in Mayfield. When Faith had become bait by declaring herself for head Slayer, Mayfield had sent her private assassin, a vampire she was keeping locked up in the old solitary ward, to kill Faith. The vampire, a former Slayer named Abigail, had instead joined forces to expose Mayfield as a murderer. Eileen might have avoided a murder conviction, but knowing that if convicted she would be sent to the very same prison she had once worked in, she pled guilty in exchange for being incarcerated in San Diego. Not that it had saved her; she was knifed in the shower less than three weeks after she got there. Someone had obviously made a phone call, but it certainly hadn't been Faith.

"This whole thing is a special case," Corinne pointed out.

"What makes it even weirder," Faith added wonderingly, "is that before Roth showed up this afternoon, I was about to issue orders that I would be taking on a larger share of the fighting. If a Slayer saw something happening that didn't require immediate intervention, then she came to me and I'd take care of it. Or if it happened in front of a bunch of us, I'd be the one who started things."

Deirdre shook her head. "That wouldn't have worked, Faith. I respect that you're trying to protect Slayers, but it would have raised all kind of reputation issues."

"It would have looked like you didn't think the Slayers could handle themselves in a fight," Corinne explained. "The Vipers would have seen it as a huge sign of weakness."

"Stanwyck solved that problem, though," Yolanda pointed out. "After you've walked away from a couple of fights and the guards just look the other way, the Vipers will figure out that the fix is in. They'll think you're getting in fights not because the Slayers are weak, but because you've made a deal with the administration."

"Which causes reputation issues of its own," Faith sighed. "They'll think I'm in Stanwyck's back pocket."

"Everyone already thinks Bryce is in Roth's back pocket - not to mention the rest of her pants," Storm reminded Faith. "Some people may joke about it, but it engenders respect as well."

Rebecca still looked concerned. "What Deirdre said before is true, Faith. If you get in a fight every other day, sooner or later you're going to lose, and you know there's going to be a knife handy when that happens. I say that's the angle. Stanwyck wants the guards happy, not the prisoners, and the guards are happy when IQ is happy. IQ figures you're going to die sooner or later, and she'd like it to be sooner."

Faith pondered that one for a second. "Then it's settled. I just won't lose ever."

"Faith!" Rebecca hissed. "This is not the time for your limitless self-confidence to start talking!"

"I got a knife in my stomach one time," Faith said, "and now I don't even have a scar. Rebecca," she reassured her friend, "there's nobody in this prison who can take me. And if they send ten people after me, well, that'll be ten people in the hospital, and the Slayers get another advantage for a little while." She stood up and looked at Rebecca. "I mean, do I look beatable to you?"

"No, you look five by five," Rebecca acknowledged, smiling.

"I swear to God, I never asked for a little sister," Faith joked, putting Rebecca in a headlock for a second. "As for the angle, we've got to ask ourselves who has something to gain and something to lose from this new order from on high."

Storm spoke immediately, as if she had already thought about this. Undoubtedly most of them had, but her mind worked the quickest. "Bryce doesn't need to worry about the Slayers now; she just has to worry about you. They'll see the guards leave you alone, but they'll also see the other members laying low. Bryce may decide she can afford to set a large-scale ambush for you, because even if she loses a dozen people, that's cool because the Slayer rank-and-file is largely neutralized."

"On the other hand," Yolanda argued, "that's in the long run. For now, at least, the Vipers are going to have their heads knocked around. We'll be at full strength, you'll be like this untouchable Angel of Death, and they may start getting scared. IQ always took their side, and now she's been muzzled by Stanwyck."

This went on for a while, and Faith marveled at the amount of responsibility being leader of the Slayers entailed. It wasn't exactly legitimate, like planning a big merger & acquisition or something, but it was experience. More importantly, it was about considering the needs of others. Faith wasn't about to get her hopes up just yet, but maybe after another year or two of this, she'd maybe be like the Slayer her first Watcher had always wanted her to be.

If she could survive, that is.

Speaking of caring about others . . . "Rebecca," she suddenly interrupted, "when we're done, I need to speak to you about something private in our cell, okay?"

Rebecca blinked, but she said "Sure," and that was that.

It was practically time for lights out before Faith had a chance to talk to Rebecca alone in their cell, unfortunately, but Faith wasn't comfortable with letting it sit. So, as soon as everything became quiet, she got out of her bunk. "Rebecca," she whispered.

"What?" Rebecca asked, not sounding sleepy at all.

Instead of answering, Faith climbed into the bed with her. "Faith!" Rebecca almost yelped, but Faith put her hand over her cellmate's mouth. Faith's leg was almost falling over the side, Rebecca was kind of squeezed against the wall, and the blanket barely covered them both, but Faith found they could manage.

"What did you need to tell me?" Rebecca was barely able to whisper.

Faith wasn't sure how to say this, and she took Rebecca's hand. "You're my best friend in this hellhole, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Rebecca said hesitantly.

"And we shouldn't keep secrets."

Rebecca could only nod.

Faith took a deep breath. "Stanwyck shared all your private life with me."

"He did what?!" Rebecca gasped.

"I don't know what he thought he was doing," Faith said miserably, "and I told him that it was up to you to tell me or not, but he just went ahead and told me about you and your parents and the things you did on the streets . . ."

"All right, enough, enough!" Rebecca interrupted. "I don't want to hear it." She sounded upset, and why shouldn't she be?

Faith became quiet and waited for Rebecca to say more. At long last she did. "I don't mind you knowing," she said. "I probably should have told you long ago, but I was ashamed, and I thought you'd think less of me. I mean, now I can't claim I was a supermodel who got busted for recreational use, can I?" She tried to smile.

"No, those types go to rehab so they can keep shooting their appearances on TV," Faith joked lamely.

"Does this change how you f-feel about me?" Rebecca asked anxiously.

"Heck, babe, of course not," Faith told her. "I was just like you once. My dad died, my mom fell in a bottle and never came back out, I thought school was a waste of time . . ."

"No, but you were probably never a whore," Rebecca said bitterly.

"A prostitute, no," Faith admitted, "but maybe once or twice I acted like a whore. And I'm sure it wasn't something you enjoyed."

Rebecca held Faith's hand tighter. "I h-hated it, it was disgusting!"

"Then it's settled," Faith said firmly. "I'm no better than you are, in fact I'm probably worse, no, it's true," she repeated when Rebecca snorted, "and we're still best friends. I'll even tell you my dirty secrets if you want."

"I don't need that from you," Rebecca said warmly. She let go of Faith's hand and wrapped her arms around Faith's neck. "Thank you so much."

"Hey, I'm just glad it's off my chest," Faith answered. She gently disengaged herself from Rebecca and slipped out of bed. "Now I'll give you some room," she whispered. "Probably couldn't have gone to sleep like that." Her head disappeared as she slipped back into her bunk.

Part of Rebecca was disappointed, because she had been expecting Faith to say something else, but the other part of her was sure that she would have had no problem with the different sleeping arrangements.

Chapter 3

Faith felt the tap on her shoulder and she whirled around. Her fist came within six inches of Officer Wharton's face. The corrections officer flinched, and she brought her nightstick, with which she had poked Faith, up near her face.

"That was not the time to sneak up on me," Faith muttered as her hand fell to the side. Someone else's weakly grabbed at her ankle, and she savagely kicked it away.

Both Faith and Wharton looked down at Julia Grey, who was splayed out on the floor. Her face was scrunched up in a mixture of pain, petulance, and smugness. "You saw it, Officer," she said through clenched teeth. "She started a fight with me and Anita. She ought to be disciplined!"

"Anita and I," Wharton said absently. When they both looked at her oddly, she clarified. "You mean, 'she started a fight with Anita and I,' not 'me and Anita.'"

"So you'll bring her to Roth?" Julia pressed her.

Regarding Julia impassively, Wharton got on the portable radio. "We've got two prisoners who need to go to the infirmary. Also, it'll have to be noted on their records that they should be disciplined for fighting."

"Who are the prisoners?" Roth's voice crackled over the walkie-talkie.

"Julia Grey and Anita Walker," Wharton said idly.

"What?!" Julia squawked while Faith successfully hid a smile.

Wharton glanced over at Kelsey. "Are you going to need treatment, Kelsey . . . Chandler, is it?"

Kelsey seemed to be thinking it over. "No, no, I don't think so," she finally said, evidently deciding she didn't want be in the same wing as the two injured Vipers.

"Have it your way. I've been looking for you, Faith. Your lawyers are here for conference. Get over to the private rooms."

Faith was taken aback. "My lawyers are here? What the hell could they want? I'm not appealing - come to think of it, I've only met one lawyer."

Sighing, Wharton gestured for Faith to move along. "All citizens convicted of crimes are given an automatic right to appeal. I thought everyone here knew that. And besides, lawyers change all the time. You've probably got a couple of 3Ls or something."

Faith shrugged and, giving Julia a mocking wave with her pinky finger, headed out. Her back was turned when Julia responded with a finger of her own. "Wonder what a 3L is?" she thought to herself.

In a minute or two Faith found herself inside one of the private rooms provided for meeting with attorneys. The purpose was so that guards couldn't hear privileged communications. Not sure what a 3L was, Faith didn't know if that was what she had here. They were both in their thirties, though, and they looked very business-y.

"So, how's the appeal of my guilty plea going?" she said jauntily, draping herself over a chair.

"We're not your lawyers, Slayer, we're from the Council," the man sitting across from her said.

Faith froze. She didn't think they'd be able to kidnap her right out of the Women's Correctional Facility, but there was always a first time, and besides, the people they hired the last time had seemed psychotic enough.

"We do bring news of a legal variety, however," he continued in his British accent. "You should receive parole in approximately forty-eight hours."

She went from being frozen to thunderstruck. "Parole?" she said uncertainly. "Hate to break it to you gents - well, actually, no I don't - but I don't get parole for at least five years. You see, I learned about all these guidelines and - "

The Council member smiled. It was not a nice one. "The Council goes through red tape the way wood goes through a vampire, Slayer."

"I have a name, you know," she challenged.

"Really? I thought they took it away from worthless pieces of refuse convicted of crimes, like the right to vote and own a gun," he sneered.

When she first arrived in prison, she might have taken that insult without a response. She might have even believed it. But she sure as hell wasn't going to sit and suffer in front of this English dickhead. "You'll need medical tape when I'm done," Faith said, rising from her chair.

Perhaps all he needed was a little reminding about who he was talking to, because he paled slightly. "Touch me and in five years the parole board won't even look at you," he said hastily.

Faith grinned. "I was always a sucker for instant gratification." She brushed his briefcase aside and, sitting cross-legged on the table, played with his tie.

Flustered and a little unnerved, the Council member looked over at the young woman who had accompanied him for help. She seemed unwilling to leave the corner; rogue Slayers commanded a certain fearful respect, Faith thought. She did clear her throat, however. "Faith," she said placatingly.

"That's better," she said, and turning towards the woman Faith dismissed the man entirely.

"Faith," the woman repeated, "we have a problem in Sunnydale. A big problem."

Once again Faith was surprised. "Sunnydale? Is B all right? Buffy, I mean," she added. She had gotten Tara's letter only a few days ago; surely something couldn't have happened already?

"For now," the woman admitted, "but her life is in great danger. More importantly, all our lives may be in peril. You see, the Slayer - that is, the other slayer - is going up against a goddess."

"Whoa, whoa," Faith said, "you don't mean a real, live, Warrior Princess type goddess, do you?"

Apparently she did, however. Faith's head was reeling as the woman sketched out the outlines of the situation - Glory, the Key, Buffy's sister. Funny, Faith didn't even know she had a sister. "Until six months ago, she didn't," the man spoke for the first time in a while. "Buffy's sister is the Key. The monks who were protecting the Key transformed her into a human girl, and then they used a spell to make everyone think this girl Dawn was Buffy Summers' sister."

"Guess the spell didn't extend to yours truly," Faith murmured. Of course, she was no longer a part of Buffy's life. She had thrown that away, hadn't she? "So why do you need me?" she thought to ask. "If one Slayer can't hurt her, two won't be much better."

"Buffy Summers is coming under attack from all sides," the woman explained. "As if patrolling for vampires over the Hellmouth weren't bad enough, she has Glory and her minions attempting to kill her. Then there are the Knights of Byzantium."

"Sounds like a computer game," Faith quipped.

"Hardly," the female Council member said with a twinkle in her eye. "They're actual knights in armor, a fanatical sect at war with Glory."

Faith cocked her head to one side. "And that's bad because . . ."

"Because they know Glory wants the Key, so they're willing to destroy the Key if it means keeping it out of Glory's hands."

"So," Faith said as light bulbs went on in her head, "they'll kill B's sister if they find out who she is. And they'll kill B if she tries to stop them."

"They've tried to kill Miss Summers once already," the woman replied, "and failed. But they've sworn to try again. She needs help, and you are the most qualified, even with your, um, drawbacks."

Faith let that one roll. "And B's okay with this?"

The man was taken aback. "We're the Council!" he said, offended. "We know what's best for the Slayer and for the world."

Which meant she probably didn't know. Faith suspected that her arrival would cause stress, not reduce it. But the man looked utterly dense, and while the woman had promise, she was almost certainly just a junior member. "I'm thinking you're going to have me paroled whether I like it or not."

"Precisely," the man said. "You will be transported directly from the gates of the prison to Sunnydale, so you can't escape. Then Summers and Giles can deal with you."

Oh yeah, he was a charmer.

Faith wasn't sure if she was happy about this. On the one hand, this might be her best chance of making things up to Buffy and Red and all the others. On the other hand, she might make things worse. Not only that, but she would be abandoning her fellow Slayers in prison if she left now. What would happen to people like . . .

Her head snapped up. "One condition," she said as they were preparing to leave.

"Oh?" the man sneered at the same time as the woman said, "What is it?"

"Rebecca Tynan, my cellmate. You have to get her paroled the same time as I am." There was no way she was leaving Rebecca to the "tender mercies" of the Vipers.

"It's not like you can stop us from paroling you, you know," the man chortled.

"Not if I kill an inmate," Faith replied. She spoke calmly, but butterflies bounced around in her stomach.

The Council members stopped in their tracks. "You wouldn't," the woman said breathlessly. "Your recent behavior - "

"Should indicate to you that I won't abandon the prisoners who depend on me," Faith retorted. "If I can't bring Rebecca with me, I'll kill the leader of the other gang. Try cutting through that red tape."

The two were silent. Faith couldn't even hear them breathing. Perhaps it was because they weren't. "We'll see what we can do," the man said finally.

"You're the masters of bureaucracy," Faith reminded them. "She's just a first-time drug offender. You'll get her out."

Instead of replying, they exited the room. Faith waited an appropriate minute before rushing out the other door. She needed to vomit.

As they got in the car, the male Council member was on the phone. "She'll do it, but she has conditions . . . she threatened to kill a prisoner, damnit . . . bloody hell, we'll have to give it to her . . . what?" He glanced at the woman. "Look in the other briefcase. There should be some files inside."

She retrieved them in short order. "Odd - some of these are United States government files. Military, actually."

"So what do I do with them? . . . you'll make arrangements . . . some new operatives . . . tomorrow night we'll what?" He stared at the phone. "He hung up," he said.

"This is some pretty hush-hush material," she said softly, leafing through the pages.

"We're coming back here tomorrow night," he told her. "Travers said he expected a reaction like this. He says that with some help, we're going to use those files for a little operation." Turning around in his seat, he reached back and pulled something out of the briefcase. "And it all has something to do with this little thing." He lightly shook the small plastic case in his hand. The contents rattled.

The woman looked at it curiously. It appeared to be a computer chip.

Chapter 4

"I'm not sure what I'm going to say to her, Storm. Actually, I'm not sure what to say to the others, either." Faith craned her head to see how many people were on line in front of her.

Storm, who was keeping Faith company while she waited to use one of the pay phones, sighed and scratched her chin. "You're going to have to appoint one of the others as leader. Deirdre would probably be your best choice."

Faith saw that there were still five or six women waiting, and she exhaled, annoyed. She was reminded of a recent Fugitive episode, where this prisoner was waiting anxiously to use the phone so he could warn his friend the doctor that the police were going to ambush him. Faith suspected that The Fugitive was the most-watched TV show in a lot of prisons besides her own. "Innocent Man Wrongly Convicted! Police Outsmarted Again and Again! Psycho Bounty Hunter Gets His Due!" It was practically designed to appeal to any convict's fantasies.

"Rebecca will understand that you're just trying to protect her," Storm continued, but she sounded doubtful.

"She all but accused me of abandoning prisoners like her the other day," Faith replied. "What's she going to do now that both she and I are leaving? Becca will be angry and guilty, not thankful."

"The Council has arranged everything. It's not like you have a choice in the matter. Explain for her."

"She doesn't know I'm the Slayer," Faith sighed.

Storm was taken aback as the two moved forward, someone having finished with the telephone. "But she knows about the Skeleton Key! And you told me she saw Abigail."

The Skeleton Key was one of the accidental rewards Faith had gotten out of the whole Eileen Mayfield fiasco. As magical artifacts went, it was a real pisser. A small key made of bone, with a skull's face crudely carved into the handle, it had the enviable power of opening any lock. Not only that, it even opened doors that had no lock. It simply sank into the door where the lock would normally be. That was how Faith and the others could get out of their cells anytime they wished, even though the doors had no locks, being operated by computers. It was also how Faith was going to be able to make this call; every couple of weeks Storm, who wore the key on a rope around her neck, left her cell in the middle of the night and got all the change out of one of the pay phones. The Key was so useful it even opened the change box.

"She pretends that night was a dream," Faith said. "And as for the Key, well, Rebecca's sort of in denial about that. Why do you think I haven't told Deirdre or the others?" She shook her head. "We'll have to tell her about the Key before I leave."

"So you want Deirdre to take over for you?" Storm asked. "It certainly makes things less messy."

"Things are messy enough," Faith complained. "What's Stanwyck going to say? He won't have Super-Prisoner to protect the nonviolents anymore. Is he going to expect Deirdre to do all the fighting now that she's the leader? I think she'll carry on my work, but you never know what could happen in six months."

Storm pondered that as the line slowly moved. "What will you do when you're no longer needed in Sunnydale?"

"The Council will want to keep me marching to their orders," Faith told her, frustrated. "So I'll probably just violate parole so they can throw me back in here. Let them try to get me out of here twice."

"What happens to Rebecca then?"

"She'll be free again," Faith said.

"Free to get high again?" Storm reminded her. "She doesn't have a life outside of these walls right now. She's going to depend on you, and she can't do that if you're in prison and she isn't."

Faith hadn't thought of that. "Fuck," she swore.

Other than admitting she would have to tell Rebecca the truth about herself, they hadn't reached any satisfactory decisions by the time Faith got to the phone. "Two eighty-five for the first three minutes," Faith told Storm.

As Storm started shoveling quarters into the slot, Faith hoped Tara was going to pick up. She needed to verify what the Council had told her, and she couldn't do that if Willow heard her voice and slammed the phone in her ear. She could only cross her fingers as it started ringing.

"H'lo?" Amy asked as she answered the phone. Hearing nothing, she turned away from the room where the stereo was set up and said "Hello?" in a much louder voice.

"Yeah, hello!" an unfamiliar voice finally said. "Um, is this where Tara lives?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hold on," Amy replied as she set down the receiver and hurried to the foyer. Tara was standing on the front porch, drawing symbols on the door. "Tara, phone for you."

"Okay Amy, thanks," Tara said. She craned her head skyward. "Willow!" she called.

A beautiful face surrounded by gorgeous auburn hair peered down from the roof. "Yes, Tara?"

"I have to get a phone call," she said, "so if you need anything, just ask Amy. All right, Amy?"

"Sure, no problem," Amy replied. She sat on the front stoop and started reading her book on the Rosicrucians again.

Tara stopped a moment in the family room to turn the CD player down. They had Sheryl Crow's The Globe Sessions blasting at full volume so both Willow and Tara could hear it. Picking up the phone in the kitchen, she said, "This is Tara."

"Tara? It's Faith."

Startled, Tara could only say, "Oh! Er, hello." Quickly she took the cordless and retreated into the laundry room.

"The music got pretty quiet there all of a sudden," Faith went on, sounding like she didn't know how to begin. "Let me guess, it's Red who likes to listen to 'Mississippi' and 'Anything But Down.'"

"Actually," Tara said politely, "we both like her a lot, but yes, it's Willow's CD." She stopped, waiting to hear what Faith had to say. Maybe giving her their phone number hadn't been such a hot idea.

"Look, Tara, I know you said this was just for emergencies, but I needed to speak to someone in Sunnydale, and right now the only person I can do that with is you."

Tara sat atop their new dryer. "What is it?" she asked.

"I got paid a visit by the Council yesterday," Faith began.

"Oh dear," Tara replied. "They don't want to drag you back to England again, do they?"

"Not exactly," Faith said. "They want to have me released from prison so I can go back to Sunnydale. They told me you guys have been having some problems down there."

She privately suspected that Faith coming to Sunnydale right now could be called a problem, but Tara wasn't about to be so tactless as that. "Did they tell you about Glory?" she asked instead.

"So it's true," Faith breathed. "They talked about Glory being some psycho goddess, and about these guys called the Knights of Byzantium, and Buffy's sister . . ."

"It's all true," Tara confirmed for Faith. "What else did they have to say?"

There was a moment of silence. "I'm not sure I want to leave prison just yet. There are these people here I'm trying to help, and this comes at a pretty lousy time. But it looks like I don't have a choice, it's not like I can stand up and say 'No thanks, I like prison better,' and they rip up the papers and that's that. On the other hand, I don't know what B's going to say when I suddenly appear."

Tara was beginning to understand. "Did they happen to tell you anything about what happened the last time they came here?"

"Not really. They didn't even answer me when I asked if B was all right with this. Sort of led me to believe that nobody knew."

"They came here a few weeks ago, trying to get Buffy under their thumb again in exchange for information on Glory." Tara still burned at their attempts to control and humiliate everyone. "Eventually Buffy put her foot down and told them all to go to hell. She said that they needed her a lot more than she needed them, and that if they didn't agree to all her conditions, they could all just kiss her . . . well, I mean," Tara stammered, "she didn't actually say it in those words, but the meaning . . ."

"I can picture it," Faith chuckled. "So . . . oh shoot." Tara could hear her murmuring to someone called Storm about needing more change. "Sorry about that," Faith finally said. "So she really stuck it to them."

"There was definitely some resentment on their part," Tara replied. "So maybe they decided to get you out of prison and into Sunnydale without telling Buffy because they knew she wouldn't take it well."

"And when Buffy complained," Faith added, sounding like she got it too, "they could just raise their hands and say, 'Sorry, we thought we were helping you out, we didn't realize.' And all the while they're laughing behind the backs of their hands."

Tara sighed. "So what are you going to do?"

"Whatever else they said," Faith told her, "it definitely sounds like you could use some help. Even from a recovering fuck-up like me. Only, maybe if you could warn Giles or somebody else in advance, then my showing up won't be such a warm and fuzzy feeling for the jerkoffs in England." Or such a horrible surprise for Buffy and Willow, she could have added.

"When do you get out?"

"They said forty-eight hours, and that was yesterday afternoon, so I guess tomorrow night. Also, I'll be bringing a friend with me. She hasn't really done anything wrong, and she's a good kid, so if you guys could lay off of her, I'd appreciate it."

Faith would need the support, Tara suspected. "I'll tell Giles later today. He'll know what to do better than I."

"Thanks, Tara."

"Has everything been working out all right? I mean," Tara added, "since the time I spoke to you in Los Angeles?"

"Better than I ever expected." Tara heard Faith sigh. "I gotta go. I hope I haven't made Willow suspicious or anything."

"Don't worry, she's on the roof. And I'll probably tell her everything before you get here."

She heard Faith pause. "What's she doing on the roof? Don't tell me she's picked up one of my bad habits."

It took Tara a second to figure that one out. "Oh no, she's not smoking. She's just drawing some runes."

"Some what?"

"Runes. It's kind of like a magical Scandinavian alphabet. They're these very complicated ideograms, sort of like Chinese or hieroglyphs, which create practical magical effects. The one Willow's working on is designed to protect homes from fire. I'm doing another one on the front door that discourages thieves."

"Guess if I saw some weird drawings on the front door, I'd move on to the next house too."

"They don't actually see it," Tara explained. "It just has the effect of making their eyes automatically slide past our house. You never know, with vampires and demons and all."

Tara heard Faith whispering to someone. It sounded like she really did have to go. "Magic," Faith finally murmured. "Sometimes I wish I could be a witch instead of a Slayer."

"You sound like Dawn," Tara laughed. "Take care of yourself, Faith."

"Hey, I'm five by five."

Chapter 5

"I didn't know Audra had joined the Vipers," Rebecca said, looking across the infirmary to where the statuesque African-American woman was sleeping.

"Don't think she did," Faith replied, wincing as she tested her knee again. "I asked her myself, and she said she got paid to do it by someone on the outside. Told me it was nothing personal, but that five Ben Franklins meant she had to put me in the hospital."

Faith had been minding her own business when she felt someone kick her viciously in the kneepit. She supposed it would have been broken, had she been a lesser woman. The assailant had turned out to be Audra, an extremely athletic and well-built young woman who had nearly beaten her boyfriend to death when she caught him striking her son on the head with a belt. Her physical fitness was such that she was highly sought after by the Vipers, but Audra hadn't been interested. Yolanda had suggested trying to recruit her as well, but Faith had demurred, believing that Audra would come to them if she really wanted to belong to a gang.

"Besides," Faith remembered, "look at Anita. She was supposed to get out today, but she ran into Audra on the way out." Audra had both strength and endurance, and Faith had started the fight on the floor, but Faith was still able to stretch her out within five minutes. Her injuries, however, were severe enough that they both were sent to the infirmary. There Anita, making a reasonable but apparently mistaken assumption, had welcomed Audra to the Vipers. Audra was conscious enough to knock Anita's two front teeth out. For someone who tried to knock her out, Faith liked her.

"So if she doesn't work for the Vipers," Storm asked, "and evidently she didn't get her marching papers from IQ, then who was it?"

"Beats me," Faith said, shrugging. "Maybe you could do a little asking around."

"The timing is a little strange," Rogue muttered darkly.

Faith shot her a look that practically screamed, "Shut up!", but it was too late. "What timing?" Rebecca asked.

Storm looked sheepish. "Sorry, I told Rogue after your phone call," she told Faith.

Putting her hand over her eyes, Faith waved at Storm and Rogue. "Go on, get out of here, I need to talk to Rebecca."

"Seems like we've been doing this a lot lately," Rebecca joked as Storm and Rogue said good-bye and left.

"I got some news, Rebecca," Faith began, unsure of what to say. "I'm being given early release."

Rebecca blinked at her. "You've got to be kidding me. You got five to ten years, Faith. How the hell could you be getting out early?"

"Mysterious ways," Faith said vaguely. Oh hell, she thought. "I'm going to be released from prison tomorrow night."

If her jaw had fallen any further, it would have made a noise hitting her chest. "Tomorrow?!" she said, upset. "But, but that's unheard of."

"There are things you need to know about me, Rebecca," Faith tried to explain.

"Does this have anything to do with what we talked about in our cell the other night?"

"No, it's not that, Becca," Faith said. "It's about what I was doing for a year or two before I was arrested. I didn't tell you about it before because it's sort of, well, weird."

Rebecca stared at Faith. "It wasn't a dream that night, was it?" she whispered.

Faith was startled but not surprised. Rebecca, she had learned, was pretty damn insightful. "You mean the night Mayfield tried to kill me?"

"Her and the other woman," Rebecca said. "I didn't recognize her, but from what Deirdre said that night, I figured it was Abigail. But Abigail was dead, wasn't she?"

"Oh boy," Faith murmured. "I'm going to have to give you a crash course, aren't I?"

"In what?"

"In vampires."

Rebecca started to laugh, but the sound died. "You're not joking, I know. I have this feeling that you're going to tell me things I'd rather not know."

Faith nodded and squeezed Rebecca's fingers. "I'd probably be happier not knowing about any of this stuff either, but I couldn't avoid it. I was chosen. I was the Slayer."

"We're both Slayers," Rebecca answered, mystified.

"That's just a strange coincidence," Faith explained. "Before I came to prison, I was a Slayer in life as well. My purpose was to hunt and kill vampires." As Rebecca's eyes grew progressively wider, Faith told her about everything. Rebecca learned about vampires, about demons, the Council, Kakistos, Sunnydale, the Mayor, Buffy - everything.

"So that's why you're so good at fighting, and why you never lose, and why you're always out of the infirmary and back in the general population after a day or so," Rebecca realized.

"Exactly," Faith agreed. She laid her head back. She hadn't realized just how tired she was. "How are you feeling, Rebecca?"

She put her hands to her temples. "I feel like my brain is going to explode. I mean, how could you have done those things to those people?" Rebecca whispered, shocked.

Faith shrank back in her bed, wounded. Of course she had done horrible things, but she hadn't expected Rebecca to say such a thing. Did that mean she was truly beyond redemption? Instead of answering, Faith just looked at her hands, sinking into gloom.

Rebecca rose to her feet. "I'm sorry, I just . . . I need to sort all this out. I never imagined you were like that." She stepped back.

"You won't have much time," Faith said quietly, dreading her reaction. "I told the Council I wouldn't come unless they got you out too."

She gasped. "No, you didn't! I'm not ready! I can't go back out there yet, not when I'm finally fitting in somewhere."

"Goddamnit, Rebecca," Faith flared up briefly, "if I'm gone and you're still here, how long will it be before Bryce or one of the others does something horrible to you?"

"I'm a Slayer," Rebecca said proudly. "The others will take care of me."

"Maybe," Faith admitted, "but I wasn't going to take that chance. I wanted to take care of you on the outside."

"Like the way you took care of your other friends? Like the way you took care of yourself?" Rebecca spat at her.

Shocked by Rebecca's venom, Faith could only lapse into hurt silence. Rebecca turned on her heel and stormed out, injuring Faith much more than Audra did.

"I'll make her understand," Faith whispered, but her words lacked conviction.

Faith felt a heavy boulder sitting on her chest. "I feel bad enough in real life," she thought, "without having to worry about symbolic dreams."

"She's waking up," someone murmured from a great distance.

Slowly opening her eyes, Faith was astonished to discover that she was no longer in her infirmary bed. Even in the darkness, she could tell that she'd been moved into the small operating room, adjunct to the sleeping room, that they used for emergencies. The boulder, she discovered, had actually been the pressure of the leather strap across her breasts. Apparently someone had drugged her and moved her here. Suddenly Audra saying she had to put Faith in the hospital took on clearer meaning.

A bright light shone in her eyes, and she winced, looking away. She would have put her hands up, but of course, that was impossible right now. Plus she was feeling groggy.

"Comfortable? No? Good."

Faith was stunned to see the face of the male Council member in front of her. "What the hell do you want?" she slurred.

"Well, since the sleeping medication has worn off, we can get ready to prepare the anesthetic," he replied. She didn't like the look on his face. It seemed wicked and impassive at once.

"I don't do drugs, didn't you know? I'm in here for aggravated assault." For some reason she thought this was funny, and she giggled thickly.

"That won't happen again, once we're through with you," he sniffed as he stood up.

Her eyes adjusting now, she noticed the other Council member, the woman, sitting in the corner once again. She didn't look very happy. Faith also spotted two people whose white clothing pegged them as medical types, and a third who had the body of a nightclub bouncer. The muscle, she supposed. "What are you going to do to me?" she managed to say. Her tongue felt swollen.

The man went over to the cart where, Faith saw with growing alarm, the surgical tools were. With a pair of tweezers he retrieved a small metal chip from a petri dish. "This," he said, holding it in front of Faith's nose, "is a microchip which we are going to implant into your brain."

Faith just looked at him, appalled. Her sparkling wit had deserted her. Stupid sleeping pills, she thought.

"The technology and the process has been borrowed from you Americans, I admit," he went on. He didn't look all that happy about the American part. "Actually it was perfected in the sleepy town of Sunnydale, where government operatives kidnapped vampires and demons and used the chips so that it was easier to study them."

Riley, she thought to herself. Wasn't it called the Initiative, she remembered vaguely. But she didn't know about any chips.

"The chip," he explained, "builds upon the electrical impulses which your brain sends to the body. Basically, if you harm or attempt to harm any human being, it will cause you great pain."

"You sound like a South Park episode," she said before she realized what he had told her. "Wait a minute," she added. "Are you telling me if I throw a punch at a human, it'll hurt me worse than it hurts them?"

"Precisely. Now we don't have to worry about you, for example, killing a prisoner before your release."

"I was bluffing, you dickwad," she said, groaning. "You British people just don't understand American card games."

He snorted. "Then we're calling and raising, aren't we?"

"I would like to say for the record," the woman in the corner said, "that I think this is a very bad idea. What we're doing here smacks of torture and vivisection. A Slayer deprived of the ability to defend herself against humans is utterly unheard of!"

"Noted," he said dismissively. "Frankly, I think it's a great idea. I think we ought to put them in all future Slayers. Makes them more docile, I say. Avoid Slayers like Buffy Summers."

"Yeah," Faith chuckled, "I hear she really emasculated you guys last month."

Faith was pleased to see the man's face turn bright red. "She broke one of my ribs," he muttered, "and I wouldn't have minded if a little chip in her head had zapped her at the same time."

"What about Rebecca?" Faith suddenly remembered.

"You aren't in a position to threaten us any longer," the man sneered, "or at least you won't be in a couple of hours. So we don't need to worry about some drug addict any longer."

She probably would have throttled him if she hadn't been restrained. As it was she fought strenuously at the restraints, earning her a laugh from the man. Faith also fought the technician's attempts to administer the anesthetic, but after a minute he had the mask over her mouth, and she began to feel sleepy all over again.

"Bastards," Faith thought as she began to drift. "But Rebecca wouldn't have wanted to come with me anyway." For the first time that day, a tear rolled down her cheek.

Chapter 6

"Faith, Faith, c'mon, wake up!"

Faith felt someone lightly slapping her cheeks. Apparently the slapper didn't think that was enough, because Faith then felt her cheeks being pinched. "Ouch," she mumbled, "Audra hit me there, remember?"

"Sorry."

The voice finally got through to Faith. "Rebecca?" she whispered. Opening her eyes, she saw that, sure enough, Rebecca was standing over her. "Oh thank God, the whole thing was a dream." She tried to sit up, but couldn't. The restraints were still on.

She might have been drugged, but drugs couldn't stop a Slayer constitution, especially one motivated by surprise. Fully alert, she looked down and saw that it hadn't been a dream. She was still strapped to an operating table, although Rebecca was now wrestling with the straps.

The background noise was starting to penetrate. Faith looked to the side and saw Deirdre and Corinne pummeling the doctors. Yolanda had jumped on the male Council member's back and was sticking her fingers in his eyes and nose. As for the bouncer . . . well, that was a surprise. Rogue and Storm, who last she heard belonged to a race of pacifist demons, were beating him to the concrete floor.

"Let's get out of here, Faith!" Rebecca said urgently. "The guards will be here in no more than five minutes."

"You go," Faith replied. "I'm supposed to be in the infirmary, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Rebecca said. "Guess I'm a little excited." She helped Faith off the table.

The man threw Yolanda off his back and ran for the door, getting there before Rebecca and Faith. "You'll all be sorry," he snarled as he yanked the door open.

Audra, who was standing on the other side of the door, threw a straight jab at his face. It must have connected solidly, because would you believe two of his teeth flew through the air?

"Dang," she said to herself, as the others all looked at her (except for the man, who was on his back, eyes shut). "I keep cutting my knuckles on people's teeth. Maybe I should aim lower."

"I'm really quite grateful," Faith told the others, "but how did you know? And how did you get there?"

"It was me," Rebecca admitted. "Storm came to my cell late last night, because she knew I was pretty upset about what you told me. She asked if I needed anything, and I said that if she could get me out of my cell, I wanted to see you."

"As for how we did it," Storm added. She held up the Skeleton Key.

Faith smacked her forehead. "Sorry, I must have some of their drugs still in me. Feeling pretty dense today." It was the following morning, and the doctor had once again been resigned to find that Faith no longer belonged in the infirmary.

"That's a pretty handy little device you've got there," Deirdre said wonderingly. "How does it work?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know. Just know it does." Rebecca said somberly. Faith looked at her, but she held up a hand. Her eyes signaled that she'd say something in a minute.

Storm returned the Key to its place beneath her shirt. "When we got there, you were gone and there were noises coming from the OR. So we ran and got Rogue, Deirdre, Corinne, and Yolanda. Thank God Deirdre's a single and Corinne and Yolanda share a cell, or we might have created some questions."

"When we saw their set-up," Deirdre added, "we knew it couldn't be anything good, so we just started swinging. It's been a few days, as you well know."

"Just sorry I couldn't join in," Faith grinned. "I was stoned out of my mind, I guess."

"What did those people want to do with you?" Yolanda asked.

Faith shook her head. "They had some crazy experiment where I'd have a microchip put in my head that would stop me from hurting people. The man in charge said he'd like to do it to others like me." She didn't elaborate on who those others might be.

Corinne shuddered. "Goddamn administration. You realize, Faith, that that's why Stanwyck gave you those orders. He wanted to do his experiments, and when you tried to fight a Viper, well, there went the whole Slayer gang."

Judging by the secrecy and the way the Council people had disappeared, Faith doubted that they had been working in tandem with Warden Stanwyck. More likely they had snuck in somehow. Sneaky Petes, those Council members. But all she said was "Could be."

"What was that about with the English woman?" Deirdre wanted to know.

Before they left the woman, who had stayed out of the fighting, came forward. "What about me?" she had asked fearfully.

"This is a women's prison, not a Pam Grier movie," Yolanda had said. "Unless Faith says otherwise . . ."

"Leave her alone," Faith answered. "She wasn't going along with this."

"Then we'll leave you alone," Yolanda finished.

"Look," Faith had added, "I don't know what your superiors want with me now, but my conditions still apply if your plans haven't changed. Got it?"

Thinking back now, Faith leaned back. It had been hard explaining to Rebecca. It would be literally impossible for the others. "Nothing," she lied. It did give her an opening, however. "Look, two things. One, if anything like this happens again, and I get incapacitated, or even killed . . ."

"Not gonna happen," Corinne said confidently.

"Thanks, but if something does happen, I want everyone to know that Deirdre will act in my stead for as long as it takes. I don't want the Slayers to be like when Abigail died and there was no leader for weeks. So Deirdre's word goes if something changes, got it?"

Deirdre appeared grateful. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, I really do," she said, "but I don't expect anything to change for a long time."

Faith sighed internally, but she didn't say anything to that. "Second," she said, "I think we should ask Audra if she wants to join. In fact, if she wants it, I think she should be in our little 'leadership council'. I mean, you didn't see her fighting me. She's damn good."

"How about her knocking that guy out last night?" Corinne said admiringly. "Smooth. Classy, too."

"And she played dentist on Anita's teeth too," Faith added. She told them about the scene in the infirmary the day before, and they all laughed. "I think she's willing, so Yolanda, you and Corinne can speak to her."

"We'll get right on it," Yolanda agreed. The two got up to go.

Faith got up too. "All right, everyone, that's it. Only," she said honestly, "thanks a lot, girls. You saved me in there."

"We won't let you forget it," Rogue said with a smile as they left. Rebecca stayed behind, however. Faith shoved her hands in her pockets and waited nervously for her to say something.

"When you said it all at once like that," Rebecca began, "it surprised the hell out of me. I was pissed, I was angry, I was scared as hell, but mostly I was hurt. This was something very fundamental to you and your life, and you didn't tell me until you had to. I had thought we were closer than that."

"I didn't know how to tell you," Faith said earnestly. But Rebecca interrupted her.

"Look, I'm sorry, Faith, all right? I arrived at this prison as someone very frightened. I was going through withdrawal in the worst way, I didn't see how I'd make it five years without crack, I had heard all the horror stories about women's prison. But you befriended me, you defended me, you made everything ten times easier than it should have been. And you had a ton of your own shit to suffer through, including your past mistakes." Rebecca looked anguished. "I mean, here I am, convicted drug user, getting all judgmental on you over things you were punishing yourself for even while you were protecting me. So when Storm came to my cell in the middle of the night, I didn't even ask how she had gotten there. I just wanted to get to you so I could apologize."

Faith felt the relief filling her body. She couldn't keep from breaking into the biggest smile possible. "You don't know how happy that makes me, Rebecca," she said warmly.

"And if we do find ourselves on the street tomorrow," Rebecca added, "we'll back each other up. Kind of hard to be alone in a world of, well, non-offenders when you've got someone to support you. Makes crack a lot less appealing."

"I'm glad to hear it," Faith replied, putting her arms around Rebecca and holding her close. She couldn't see the look of intense pleasure on Rebecca's face before she buried her head in Faith's hair.

"I hesitate to ask if you have any idea how this has happened," Stanwyck told Faith and Rebecca. "It's not something I see all that often."

Rebecca allowed Faith to do the talking. "Got me, Warden Stanwyck. I'm just a con."

"Ex-con," he reminded her, still sounding amazed. "This isn't just parole, remember. The two of you have simply had four years lopped off your sentences. You can leave tonight, if you wish. I wasn't even aware there were channels to go through that could achieve such results." He inspected the papers more closely, as if that might impart some new information.

"Perhaps someone feels we've been rehabilitated," Faith said, emphasizing the last word.

"Hm, perhaps," he replied. He looked at Faith. "I suppose you're wondering what will happen to your gang."

"You mean my hypothetical gang."

He smiled thinly. "Yes, of course, your hypothetical gang. My records indicate that none of the likely members of any such nonexistent gang are especially talented the way that you are."

"If there were such a gang," Faith speculated, "I wouldn't be surprised if they had standing orders to only get in fights when it was necessary, and to leave most of the fighting to group leaders. People like Deirdre Hunt, Corinne Suarez, Yolanda Washington, or even Audra Bennett, are prime candidates for leadership in any field." She had learned of Audra's acceptance only a couple hours before. "Perhaps even some of the unlikely ones, such as people with strange nicknames, could be of use." Storm had told her last night that she was a pacifist. She was willing to knock heads if it meant keeping the peace.

Stanwyck pretended to doodle on the sheet in front of him. It appeared to Faith that he was actually checking names off, but if he wanted to be coy . . . "How very interesting," he said. "I shall have to keep that in mind. If I might ask, where do you intend to begin your new lives?"

Faith smiled brilliantly. "To a place someone once referred to as the sleepy town of Sunnydale."

"What is it, Tara?" Willow asked when they were alone in their bedroom.

"I don't know what you mean," Tara said nervously.

"You've been on pins and needles to tell me something," Willow replied, "but you obviously wanted to wait until Buffy and Amy and the others were all gone or in bed. So now that we're alone in bed together, safe inside the home we own together, you can tell me. What's been bothering you? It's not still the Amy thing, is it?" Tara shook her head. "No, I'm fine with that." Having regained her human form, Amy had begun experimenting with her newfound affinity for the element of Earth and was practicing summoning Gnomes. Tara was herself attuned to Air and its respective elemental spirit, the Sylph, but because Gnomes and Sylphs didn't get along, Tara had graciously allowed Amy to learn more while she focused on other magical pursuits.

"You know I love you, right?" Tara asked unnecessarily.

Willow just smiled and, taking Tara's hand, kissed her fingers.

"And if I kept anything from you, something you might not like, it's only because I thought I was doing what was best for you."

Not liking where this was going, Willow merely nodded and said, "Uh-huh."

"When I spoke to Mr. Giles last night, I told him something I had learned. One thing we decided on was that I should tell you as soon as possible. Which, as it turns out," Tara said anxiously, "is now."

"Okay, now you're starting to scare me," Willow replied. "What's this big secret?"

Tara kissed her quickly on the cheek before screwing up her courage and unhappily saying, "It's about Faith."

"Say what?!"

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