Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not mine. Please don’t sue me, I’m in enough debt as it is thanks
A/n: Okay so fair warning, not entirely sure where I’m going with this fic. It sort of popped into my head after watching ‘The Dark Knight’ and I couldn’t not write it. I may make this a full fledged story or just a series of one-shots, I haven’t decided yet. But, yeah if you haven’t watched the movie yet (and you should because it is the best movie I have seen in years!) I would say to wait to read this because while the first chapter doesn’t have any ‘major’ spoilers in it, following chapters might.
A/N: This story is essentially AU past Buffy Season 4. Faith never goes to LA and doesn’t try and redeem herself. Basically she goes in the opposite direction and falls even farther. I suppose you could say this is a dark fic…I’m not really a good judge of such things because it takes quite a bit to bother me. But I would say it’s probably not going to be any darker than ‘The Dark Knight’ movie itself.
I know how it feels—forced to be someone you're not. Hurts to the bone. You try to bury the pain, but you can't get the hole deep enough, can you? No matter how much you dig, it's still there. Broken shards stabbing every time you breathe, cutting you up inside. You know, there's only one way to make the pain stop. Hurt someone else. Come on, Faith, you're not even trying. Or is that why you really came back, huh? Not enough to punish yourself in prison? Is that it? Still looking for someone to help beat the bad out of you? You know what the funny part is, darling? I could beat you to death, and it wouldn't make a difference. Nothing will ever change who you are, Faith. You're a murderer, an animal, and you enjoy it. Just like me. –Angelus (“Release” Angel, Season 4)
Of the whole span of human emotions, she found herself returning to one more than any other.
Anger at her mother and at her non-existent father. Anger at Buffy Anne Summers and the glorious wisdom of the Watchers Council. Anger at anyone and everyone. And most especially, anger at herself.
She had found a way to outlet that anger in violence. God, how she thrived in violence. The thrill and sheer exhilaration of it. The power of it was amazing.
Angel had been right. It was like a drug for her. A drug better than any she had tried and she had tried just about all of them. She wasn’t about to quit this. Not willingly. Fuck that. No falling off the wagon when you never plan to get on. She would be this way till she was dead.
So at the rate she was going… perhaps not that long.
Eventually the anger was no longer the driving force behind her aggression, just the excuse. The kindling had burned up, but she found the fire still raging.
All that mattered was the need and how to sate it. She needed to cause that destruction and that pain. That chaos. She found that it was only in those moments when the pain of others was truly palpable that the power of it allowed her to feel something other than hopelessly numb.
She was still angry…but that fury had become directionless. Faith hated pretty much everyone, but no one at the same time. She found that she didn’t really hate B or the others. In fact, Buffy and Angel were probably the only people she would hesitate at killing. She still would if forced. No doubt about that.
The 12-inch thick metal door shut into place.
She had almost forgotten. She must really be going crazy.
Faith Marie Lehane lent against the padded wall of her cell rubbing absently at spots on her wrists where they’d just removed her cuffs. Yet another pointless evaluation from that joke of a psychologist. As if they were ever going to make a breakthrough with her.
Only one person had ever come close to saving her and the time for such things had long since passed.
She could most definitely escape here if she wanted to, but Faith figured she should wait. She needed the rest anyway. And hey, four square meals a day and her own room? That was more than she ever had back home.
Faith would wait until they forgot just who it was they were dealing with.
And they would.
Men just couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that a hundred-some pound girl could down them without a second thought.
The best part was they didn’t know the half of it. They just thought she was a skilled fighter. Not a clue that, given the right incentive, she could rip that cell door right off its hinges. Such an act might be a bit tiring and hardly worth the effort when she could just wait until for one of her evals to make her escape, but entirely within her capabilities nonetheless.
It had been almost four years since she had woken up from her coma and fled Sunnydale. The Scoobies had lost track of her roughly a year ago when B had found her in Cleveland beating the shit out of some demons and basically anyone that got in her way.
After that, Faith had gotten much better at hiding. Runic tattoos to shield her from B’s pet witch and a foolproof new identity….oh how she loved magic. Arkham Asylum and the wonderful men of Gotham’s police force thought her name was Hope Lee Hanes. For what the name itself lacked in creativity it made up for in its brilliant forgery.
She had done a job for a mystic and as payment he had made her a new identity. The new identity was complete with photos, people who remembered her, birth records, elementary school yearbook pictures and he had even gave her a few fake memories for authenticity’s sake.
Faith was just glad that Buffy and her fabulous superfriends hadn’t figured out where she was yet. Buffy and the others were part of the reason she had allowed for her incarceration at Arkham Asylum for so long. The Gotham authorities had found her torturing a local pimp just for the fun of it 4 months back…and gosh no! They wouldn't stand for such malarkey!
Who cared that he would beat the hell out of his girls when they didn’t make enough money turning tricks. Granted she had kicked the shit out of them too. The stupid bitches had pissed her off. They reminded her too god-damned much of her mother.
At her trial they must have realized she wasn’t exactly stable, so they had thrown her in here instead of the standard run-of-the-mill women’s prison.
Faith was aware this was probably where she belonged. She knew she was crazy….which sort of set her apart from most psychopaths. But she enjoyed being crazy.
Normal people were always so damn depressed about everything…and why would she want to be like that?
No. She had passed the point of no return quite some time ago and the thought of going back didn’t occur to her anymore. This was who she was. All she would ever be.
Now all she had to do was find a moment of escape that wouldn’t look too unlikely for a normal girl to manage. She figured it would probably catch the attention of Buffy or maybe Angel if a girl broke out of a maximum security psych ward by killing all her jailers one by one with her bare hands and then walking out the front door.
That would be fun though.
All she had to do was wait for the right moment, and it was goodbye Arkham. Goodbye Gotham. Hello crazy messed-up world.
It was almost sad really. She sort of liked Gotham City. But once she escaped here, the local authorities would have her number. She didn’t want to deal with that kind of attention.
Gotham had been a favorite of hers for the simple fact that there were almost no demons or magical beings to speak of. It was like the opposite of a Hellmouth, almost like it repelled the paranormal. Maybe it was just because Gotham already had its fair share of crazies without the supernatural’s help, so they didn’t bother with the place.
The low amount of demon activity was beneficial for her since it was less likely she would run into someone who knew who and what she was. Faith also liked it here because she was, in all likelihood, the strongest person in the whole city. That was always a plus. A real ego booster.
All she had to worry about in Gotham was the Batman.
And a guy that liked to dress up like a flying rodent? On the list of people she had to worry about….that ranked pretty low.
“Ha-haha! Hee! Ho-ho! Heh-hee!” A rough cackling voice echoed through the halls.
Faith peered through the tiny eye level window of her cell door to see what was going on. There was a man being dragged by the orderlies to the cell directly across from hers. He was dressed in the standard patient white jumpsuit, but what stood out was his face. He had on what looked like clown make-up, but it had been smeared and worn through the course of events that had brought him here. He also had scars that began at the either side of his mouth and stopped just short of his cheekbones giving off the effect of an exaggerated smile.
Sort of gave credence to that whole fear of clowns thing she had as a child.
The resulting effect on the man was frightening. Well, frightening to anyone else anyway.
She was over fear. Fear was for people who cared if they lived or died. The prospect of death for her wasn’t scary, just sort of… unfortunate.
They finally managed to drag the man right in front of her door as they readied his cell.
He was sort of attractive, in his own way. Maybe that attraction simply stemmed from the danger she could sense in him. Years of being the Slayer had made her quite attune to evil, both in demons and in people. This man was dangerous and reeked of the darkness.
And that, was beautiful to her.
She chuckled. Danger: her natural aphrodisiac.
And shit, that reminded her. She hadn’t gotten laid in ages. What she wouldn’t give for a decent rough and tumble. Her quiet laughter must have caught his attention because now he was looking right at her. Oh, wow. Those eyes sure were penetrating.
She sort of wished something else of his would do some penetrating…
He smacked his lips noisily, then his lips curled into a tiny grin and his scars stretched taut.
His voice sounded like that of a mischievous little child. Oh, the violent promises that playful voice held. She could just imagine the devastation they could reap together.
She smiled back, although on retrospect... it wasn’t like he could see anything but her eyes…
They pulled him into his cell slamming the door shut behind him. One of the orderlies had noticed her peering out of her viewing window and shut it with a reprimanding bang.
She sighed wistfully before reluctantly crawling into her bunk at the far side of the room. Soon she would make her escape.
Yes, soon she would make her escape and maybe she would take that clown with her.
She always did like a guy that could make her laugh.
reviews are swell.