There's nothing worse to wake up to than the sound of your cellmate screaming in her sleep, haunted by nightmares that bore an uncanny resemblance to the past deeds that granted her an all expenses paid visit to the Los Angeles Penetentiary. Yet, that's what tore Faith away from her own nightmares in the middle of every night. Strangely enough, she'd actually become good friends with Becki. Becking being the occupant of the upper bunk bed in the cell that Faith resided in. At first they had clashed, which meant many a times Faith had to suppress the impulse to connect her fist with the redhead's jaw. In time, however, Faith learned that Becki was a mother of a six year old and had been married to some asshole that beat her and molested her child. She had been unaware of the molesting, thinking that he only took his anger out on her, until she walked in on him and her child in the act. So enraged was she that she bolted into the livingroom, grabbed one of the shotguns in his guncase, and when he came out to beat her for interrupting his perverted escapade, she shot him without a moment's hesitation. This was the only reason the girl was in jail, and Faith had to marvel over how unjust the justice system was. So at night after being awoken, she would lay in the dark and listen to the events of the night Becki shot her husband over and over, because it was all Becki dreamed about.

The second worse thing to wake up to was the sound of the guard's club scraping against the bars of the cells. The sound resounded in your head until you were forced to open your eyes and start another meaningless and uneventful day. Faith wondered if this was really the way to redeem herself, to make things right with the world. Wasn't she supposed to be doing something to make the world better? Like pick up trash on the side of the road in those ugly orange jumper suits? But the prisoners never left the confines of the prison, and Faith was left with no choice than to sit around, kicking herself for not being out there slaying, and wondering how many innocents were dying because she wasn't there to save them. But I made the right choice. She kept telling herself that, believing less and less that it was true.

"Prisoner X5452, step forward." Faith lifted her head and looked towards the cell door to find a guard standing outside it. He looked to be in his early thirties, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a large build, which came in handy when you were a prison guard, Faith surmised. "Yeah, I mean you. Come on, move it." She rose obediently, and stood five feet in front of the door, as was procedure. The guard hastily unlocked the door and grunted as he entered the cell. This guy needs a career change. He seems unsatisfied with his current one...than again, who wouldn't be? Faith thought as he handcuffed both her hands behind her back and nudged her forward, an indication that she was expected to exit the cell. She cast a startled expression towards Becki, who could only shrug and give her a sympathetic look, before leaving.

They followed the yellow line in the corridor that all the prisoners were obligated to walk on, waited outside a door until they were allowed clearance, where at that point two more guards joined their entourage, and went down so many hallways it was almost like being in a maze. Wherever they were, Faith had never been in this part of the prison before. Their journey finally ended when they came to another door, which the guard that had first come to retrieve her pushed open.

She was met by the brightness of the world outside, causing her to squint involuntarily. Her eyes had become accustomed to the flourescent lighting that was ever present in the prison, that actual light was too much for them to handle.

"Let's go, 452." The guard to her right reprimanded her as he motioned for her to keep walking. Curiousity was welling up inside her but she knew better than to ask what was happening. When I know, I'm sure I'll wish I didn't..., she mused. She didn't know how right she was.

She was lead out into a caged area with an armored van parked in the center. Seven guards stood next to it, regarding her with cruel and steady gazes. When they came within six feet of the vehicle one of the guards by the van stepped forward and addressed her, his gaze never softening. "Prisoner X5452, due to overpopulation in this facility you are being transferred to the West Los Angeles Prison immediately. Please board the vehicle." He said in a systematic and hard tone.

So there was her explanation. A twinge of sadness went through her when she thought of how she'd never see Becki again, or be able to say goodbye. Pushing the feeling aside, she promptly stepped up into the back of the van, were upon she was unhandcuffed only to be re-handcuffed to a metal bar attached to the van's interior. Four guards joined the one that had just restrained her in the back of the van, while two headed towards the front council, which was seperated from the containment cell by a two-inch metal wall for safety reasons. The door slammed, oozing of finality, and the van started up and was off, heading towards her new home. She could only hope that West Los Angeles Prison had been chosen as a charity case by Martha Stewart, and was nicely renovated to be the exact opposite of where she was leaving. Such a thing was obviously highly unlikely.

They drove in silence for nearly fifteen minutes when the van came to a halt. There already? She looked up at the occupants in the back to give them a confused look just in time to see two of the guards pull out their guns and shoot the other three before the targets even had time to react. In shock, Faith stared down at the pool of blood forming by one of the victims bodies, until she noticed that one of the corrupted guards was heading towards her with a saringe in her left hand. Oh Shit. I'm definately wishing I didn't know what was happening... She tugged away from the bar, trying to break the chain connecting the two handcuffs to no avail. "Shit!" She screamed in frustration. The woman was only a few feet away from her now, approaching Faith as though she were a rabid animal in need of being put to sleep. She struggled against the manacles again, with positive results. Her hands broke free just as the woman was about to inject her, and one sent a right hook to the guard's face, causing her to hit the floor and drop the saringe.

She turned to fight off the other guard only to collide with his fist, which managed to stun her slightly. Unfortunately, that was all the time he needed, for he himself pulled a needle out of his jacket and stuck it into her arm with a complete lack of gentleness. In pain and angry, she swept his legs out from underneath, causing him to crash to the floor were his partner in crime lay, and pulled out the saringe with a seething gasp. Stepping towards the door in an attempt to escape, the rogue slayer felt a wave of dizziness sweep over her. "Damn..." she whispered lethargically, right before she crumbled to the floor, next to her assailants and fellow victims.

So Faith had changed her mind. The worst way to wake up was no longer to the screams emitting from Becki or clubs clanging against cells. They were actually very pleasant events compared to the present one. The worst way to wake up, she had concluded, was to have someone thrust a very smelly rag under your nose that caused you to wake up with a start to harsh lights, were upon you were struck quite firmly across the face, and then to discover that you can't strike back because your hands are tied behind your back and your feet are bound together as well. Yeah, this wins first place.

"Hello Faith." The man who hit her said, his voice dripping with disgust for the person before him. She also noticed an accent. English? After a moment she realized that he was one of the two guards that had gone into the front of the van.

"Wow. Do you give this sort of welcome to all the incoming guests at West LA?" she said dryly. "Cuz, while I'm flattered, it's really not necessary. I'm not one for attention, ya know?"

"Aww, that's too bad. We had a welcome cake ready for you and everything. Party favors, as well." He spat in his British voice, which Faith found very discomforting. "No, I think you're smart enough to atleast deduce that you won't be transfering to West LA. It seems to be too full as well, so we've decided to send you where you truly belong, Faith. Hell. You'll fit right in." He paused, trying to gauge her reaction with an amused and self-righteous look spreading across his face. Because of this, Faith was determined to keep her expression stoic. She had no intention of giving him pleasure out of watching her squirm.

"You see, we're unchoosing you as the chosen one. We need another slayer, and the only way to get one, is to get. rid. of. you." He chuckled.

"What's the matter? Buffy still refusing to jump through all your hoops? Not obedient enough for you?" She said, filled with pride that Buffy continued to defy them. Knowing that reinforced Faith's walls. If Buffy could defy them, she could too. That thought brought a smile to her face as she made eye contact with her future murderer.

"Actually," he said, his own smile growing, "that isn't the matter. Yes, she refused to work with The Council, but the matter is that Buffy Summers is dead." With the last word the smile vanished from her face, and she could feel her world begin to collapse. Suddenly holding her head up seemed to take all her strength, and concentrating on breathing was nearly impossible. "Jumped into a portal some demon, actually goddess, created in order to thwart yet another pending apocalypse."

"I...you're lying." She forced her voice to say.

"'Fraid not. Nope, there's no slayer and things are getting out of hand on the Hellmouth. Which is why you've got to go." So much for remaining stoic. God, B. The thought that she'd never be able to see her again, to apologize, to prove that she had changed, gripped her. It wasn't fair, how was it possible? Buffy was the good one, she didn't deserve to die. It should have been me, B. Damn you. Realization sunk in deeper, and as she began to tremble and sob and nearly lose consciousness, the Council member's chuckle turned into a roaring laughter.

Suddenly, the fact that Buffy's death could bring so much pleasure to another enraged the confined slayer, causing her blood to boil and her rational thinking to become non-existant. Using slayer strength she wasn't aware she possessed at the moment, she bucked her hips upward, raising her bound legs off the ground, and kicked underneath the man's jaw. His head snapped back from the force, and a sickening crunch followed. He fell dead to the floor.

"Oh my God..." Faith breathed, as rationality came slamming back into her. The brief intermission from trembling came to an end, and the sobbing started back up. She lay grieving. For Buffy. For what she had just done. But mostly for the loss of the better half of the chosen two. After what seemed like hours and until her sides could no longer take the convulsions the sobs caused, she lay silent and numb, contemplating what to do next.

At first she just wanted to run away and hide. It's what she was best at, anyway. Buffy would be disappointed, though. She tried to push that thought away, not wanting to think of Buffy, afraid that it would cause another fit of sobbing. But she would be. She wondered why her conscious was present now but had managed to take a hiatus when she broke the neck of the man lying next to her. It didn't matter, however. The fact that Buffy would be disappointed was enough to put Faith back in slayer mode. The first and dead obvious step is getting out of here. She began to pull on the ropes, loosening them. Then I'll call Angel. It was time to pick up trash in ugly orange jumper suits.