Faith's Diary.

Air Date: ?/4/2002

Gilbert....

Gilbert, one of the council's monitoring experts walks over to Christian.

"Mr Browning? Transcripts from Faith's diary. Henry thought you'd want to see them."

"Her diary?"

"Uh-huh."

"You read her diary?"

"Oh no, nothing like that. We got a camera inside her appartment about two weeks ago. She's pretty paranoid. She leaves markers to see if anyone touches her stuff. Fortunatly her bedroom is against the next door neibours living room and we managed to get some mikes in place and, well, she talks when she writes." Gilbert snorts a laugh. "She sort of spells the words out as she goes. The monitoring couldn't be easier, actually. We skipped some of the swearing, but we have them on the origional tapes if you need to hear it."

Gilbert passes the sheets of paper over.

"Err, thanks."

Wednesday, September 13th

I guess havnt written anything in here for a while. My bad. What would Dr Goldberg say? "Focus your feelings into the book, put them on paper and then you can deal with them."

Yeah well screw him, its easier when you dont gotta work at a shitty job half the day. Still, it does help and if that means that I stay out of the Penn, then Im so fucking there.

Anyway, the last few days have just been intense and I just havnt had time to go all schoolie on you Mr Diary. I guess I wanted to, but guess who gets to patrol while the golden girls are layed up in hospital? Bingo.

Mr Fucking Browning made me switch to the fucking day shift so that I could at least do some sweeps of the graveyards come offpeak. The arsehole. I told him to shove it and the fucking council could do it, but no, the're all "too busy trying to track down the war council". Bastards. Still the vamp population is still pretty low, so I guess the little Mz fucking perfect and her new fucking cheerleading fucking bestest fucking friend dusted most of 'em when they did Orme.

Anyway, Sunday they got totally got their butts kicked by this big demon thing. I guess they did kinda beat it, because only the library burnt down at the uni, but everyones kinda quiet about what exactly happened and Ive been to busy doin' day shifts to be round much, thanks to you know who. They must have stopped it from getting out and apocalypse averted and all that crap, but everyone ended up gettin' hurt and Alex screwed up the spell apparently.

They sort of had a plan, if you could call it that. The wonder girls would fight the baddies while the rest of the scoobies did some spell to hold the thing in. I wasnt really there for the action, naturally the two wonder girls did all the main fighting, and they needed some people to do some magic spell crap and obviously that didnt include me. I got the glamourous job, again, stuck out in the portal room, stopping any more coming through.

Oh yeah, I rock! There were about 8 dust bunnies in the portal room, trying to get into the ritual and Mr Fucking Browning told me to stop them getting in. Yeah, 8 vrs 1. That English prick wants me dead, still he wouldnt be the first. Anyway, I would have been dead if they hadnt all been fighting to get inside where the action was. Anyways, dusted 2, although one of those was cause Jayde distracted a gang of them with a crossbow just as they all turned on me. But still, 2!!!! 2 vamps! I can hardly believe it. Man, Im gettin' good.

Im so fucked if anyone reads this.

Im a bit bruised and one of them sunk his fucking claws into my arm, but it just ripped the skin a little and the muscle was a little sore the next day, but other than that Im fine. I didnt get gutted or fried like the wonder twins or super power library girl.

Man, I wish they'd let me have a bow again. I guess I know why they dont, what with me killing in SunnyD and the poisoning Angel thing, but I'd kick way more vamp butt if I could do 'em from a distance rather than needing to get all close and personal. I mean Im just a fucking nobody and they want me to patrol instead of the Slayer? "Just keep watch" they say, yeah right. Send me out to be vamp food more like.

Those council pricks. I guess why would they arm me, huh? Guess they think that Ill do 'em all from a roof top or somethin'. Im not going to get a wicked bow like I did before without some bucks and I aint getting that washing dishes. I really

Back again.

I havnt written anything for a few minutes now. Ive been trying Angel's little tai-chi shit for not losing it. My jaw hurts because Ive been clenching my teeth.

Dr Goldberg would want me to write what Im feeling and I guess, if I dont wanna go back to the pokie, I gotta deal with this. Pokie bad. Deal Good.

I think Im getting a little better. Look what I wrote back there. "without some bucks". I didnt say steal it, did I? Ok Doc, I thought about it, but not until after I thought about buying it. I guess one more little step towards little Mz Reformed Citizen, huh?

The Doc's right. Once its on paper, it just stares back at me and I cant lie to my self about it. I can write what I want, but what I dont write just rings round in my head, laughing at me.

Man I wish I could talk to him about this stuff, but instead Ive gotta try and be Mz Nice Little Girl or its back to Where the Wild Things Are. "What am I feeling now?" He'd ask something like that, right?

So, how am I feeling, Doc?

Im fucking scared. Why is it taking so long? I should feel better right?

Im sitting here in my shitty appartment. Im trying to decide if Im going to curl up and cry like a fucking baby or if Im going to go fucking insane and start killing people again.

No, cant think like that. Gotta think what the Doc would do. What am I feeling?

Angry. Im angry. Im just feeling so fucking angry at everyone and everything. I hate

I was trying to think what to write there. I hate what? I guess I just hate. Everything I guess.

Ok, I worked today, usual shit boring cleaning dishes. I hate that. As usual, trying to avoid being pawed by the manager. I hate him. Then Mr hypenated-fucking-toffy-english-school Browning, who I hate, had me do a sweep of the graveyards all 'cause Im the only one who can fight for shit who isnt in hospital or tracking war council dickheads.

I dont hate the fighting. I kinda like it. Those fuckers are so strong and you gotta be quick and smart to cap them. I can do that. I can kill vamps. I wish Id kept better count. I must be over ten now. Ive killed ten fucking vamps!

I know that Im going to lose sometime, I mean Im just a nobody, and they got super powers. You said I had a self destructive streak, Dr Goldberg, if only you knew.

I really dont care. I almost want it to happen. I cant seem to let it though. Like tonight. I had this newbie, fresh from bein' Mr Anti Undertaker. I could have done him from behind, but told him he was a fucking toss pot or something and he turned around and tried to sink the ivorys. I wanted him to try.

I could have just dust-busted him from behind, but I didnt, I called out to him. I tossed a few one liners his way, being the usual cool bad ass chick antihero, but once his hands clamped onto my shoulders and he popped the fangs, I knew I was going to die. Thats when the adrenaline kicked in.

Man, its like a fucking drug.

I dont remember exactly what happened. I remember him punching me in the face and knocking me to the ground. He tried to pin me, I remember that much, 'cause I know Im going to have nightmares about that again tonight. Anyways, I know I got a leg out and kicked him off and its all kinda blank from there.

I was still on it when I started this. When Im pumped, it makes my anger so much harder to hold down. It makes me want to hurt everyone back, to dish out the hurt again, rather than just soak it up like a loser chump.

I should have picked up. I should have hit the clubs and picked up some stud and burnt it all off until Im empty and worn out, but I cant. Im fucking bruised all over from that fucking vampire and Im on the fucking rags. Shit. It's bad enough when Im all hyped and not thinking and I bring some loser back here and they freak when Im bruised or cut up. Either that or they think they can slap me round too.

No, I solved this the old fashion way, but its no where near as good.

The adrenaline is wearing off now. Im starting to shake and the fear is starting to hit me.

Focus.

Ive got the shakes and I cant get all those images out of my head, Doc. I see Finch in the alley, and the look in his eyes. The same look that that professor guy had when I did him. I know that Im gunna dream about them tonight. How they screamed. How they died. How they begged and pleaded and screamed in my head, even if they couldnt in real life.

I cant believe what I did to that professor guy. Its kinda unreal, like it wasnt really me. Like I was just watching someone else do it. Like a movie or something.

But I know it was me. Me that cut him up like that and..

Oh fuck. I hate myself, what Ive done and who I am. Im going out patroling again. Maybe they'll get lucky this time.

Friday, September 15th

Im so fucked.

Looks like Ill be back with the Dr Goldberg and the gang soon. Jayde's stuck up little bitch friend is pushing charges.

What is it with the powers and pastel wearing slayers?

I rolled into the uni to meet with Mr Fucking Browning and I overheard Jayde telling Alex about it. I just pissed off before anyone noticed I was there. Mr Fucking Browning probably thinks Im still on day duty at work anyway. Lucky for me, Im way down on his priorities.

I came back here and thought about running again, for an hour or two, but I know that Buffy 'ill just come after me if I do. Plus if I do, Ill just lose it again and that scares me. I think I'd get away with it this time and

Hey! Buffy! I wrote her another letter yesterday. Number 12. I was ment to be doing a... what is it Mr Fucking Browking called it? Oh yeah, I was ment to get some statistic population shit or something. I wrote down 'spotted 2 vamps' in his crappy little book and took the night off. I found a spot in the park and wrote B a letter.

I said all the stuff that the Doc told me too. I said that I was sorry and stuff. I told her about Miss Livingston and Kakistos and what happened back in Boston. I told her about how I felt after Miss Post and then Finch. I didnt tell her that she was a self centered little bitch for blaming me for Finch when _SHE_ was the one who passed him over to me in the alley. See? I was good. I used 'I feel words' just like you said, Doc, and I didnt even swear once. Well not at the start. I told her that I felt alone and scared and betrayed and that I shouldnt have gone all psycho, but that I was almost 17 and dealing with a lot.

I burnt the fucking letter. I still cant write it with out explaining and when I do, I start blaming and getting pissed off and angry again. I know its me. I know that it was me who did all that stuff. I know Im fucked up in the head, but I cant stop it. I hate that I cant make it right, but truth is that when I think about that stuff I just get so pissed off. I think about Xander talking me into trying to kill Angel over the glove and fighting B and I feel used again, just like back home. I feel abandoned by B, just like I always have been by everyone else. I cant but help hate her and her fucking super friends for that. I know I shouldnt, but I cant help it. Whenever I think about that stuff, Boston comes back to me and I gotta lash out.

Im so fucked if anyone ever reads this. Especially you, Dr Goldberg.

Im sorry that I did that stuff, I really am, but I know that its still all inside me and sometimes I just want to get a knife and dig it out.

Still, one day Ill be able to write the letter. One day Ill be able to go back to Sunnydale and appologise to B. Thats the goal. If I can do that, then I know I make it the rest of the way. I just gotta keep writing those letters.

I just wish it wasnt taking so fucking long.

Saturday, September 16th

Mr Fucking Browning called. He said I could take the night off and lay low because Jayde and her new boy were patroling or something. Apparently Daddy bought her a GI Joe to keep her safe.

Yeah, she's a fucking slayer and Daddy buys her help.

Guess what? Its an angry day again today. No letters to B today.

Ok, I guess Doc 'd probably ask about the local scoobies here. "Why do you dislike them, Faith?"

Why do I hate them?

Because its just the same, thats why. Only worse.

At least in SunnyD people actually pretended to give a shit when I first arrived. I mean, yeah, we had sod all in common and stuff, but at least they talked to me for a while. Before they shut me out that is.

Here, Buffy came here to the geeky little super friends and won them all over with that pearly white smile and her 'Ive never killed anyone' self rightious crap. She told them how evil I am and how I tried to kill all her little friends.

Buffy doesnt believe that Im sorry and noone here does either. It's so fucking hard. I feel like Im drowning and everyone just watches. Noone wants to get their feet wet. People like Buffy and Jayde and Casey swim out to play every now and then, and then I get the 'oh no, its too scary for me here' and I'm on my own again with those little condesending (yeah I fucking looked it up, ok?) looks that say 'Im better than that'.

To these losers, Im just a bad little girl who the council have over a barrel. They have to know that Ill do anything not to go back to the Farm, so Im screwed right? So they can just play me and make me their dancing, little, fucking puppet until I wont dance any more.

Everyone is just waiting for me to snap again and when they do, they'll all say 'we knew it'. This time they'll be ready and Jayde or Mary or Buffy will roll out and score another point for the good guys.

Some days I feel good that they'll kill me before I do too much damage here. And sometimes I dont.

It's nothing personal. Its just that Buffy, Jayde, Mary, they have it all. They got friends and each other and money and the super powers and the parents who give a shit. Even Casey, Willow, Xander, and all the other little super brats have got a future.

Ive got, at best, the fun, fun, fun, life of an ex-con. I got nothing and I've got noone, here in this shithole of a town. Not here or anywhere. The only person who ever loved me was an immortal demon guy who wanted to eat the SunnyD school population.

Its fucked up, but I so wanna hear his voice again. I wanna wear his stupid fucking girly dress and play his stupid fucking minigolf and drink his stupid fucking milk and I wanna hear his sweet fucking voice and feel his hand on my shoulder.

Instead, I gotta go to work and have that managers hand on my ass.

Some nights, like tonight, when Im alone here in this shithole of an appartment, I know inside that Id do even worse things just to feel that again.

Isnt that fucked? You dont need to tell me, Doc, I know it is, but I cant help it.

Fucking help me, Doc! I dont wanna do that shit again.

I know its wrong and Im sick and fucked up and I really am sorry for what I did, but its just that its so tempting. I know just how easy it is to take a life. One little stab and poof, gone, they cant hurt you any more. One little stab and lift the wallet, compared to the next 30 fucking years washing dishes in that same fucking place for the same fucking $2 per hour, plus rack groping. You cant take that away, Doc. I'll know that 'till I die.

I think about what it'll be like when I die, you know?

I know that I'll go to Hell, 'cause I know Im rotten and fucked up and evil inside. You cant make up for the things Ive done. I mean Angel's had two hundred fucking years and look at him.

I dont wanna go to Hell. I know that The Powers will make sure I dont meet up with the Boss again. They gotta make me suffer when I'm in Hell, right? I know that the Boss is down there somewhere and I hope he can forgive me for selling him out in the end.

Im so fucking pathetic and weak.

Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe Im in Hell now. Maybe thats the whole idea. Maybe my punishment is to finally have someone who actually gave a fuck and know that for once they didnt leave me. I wasnt strong enough to keep fucking, perfect little Buffy Summers out of my head. Maybe if...

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Sorry Doc. Im just losing it here. Dont mind me. Just forget all that stuff, huh?

Just give me a couple of minutes to get it all back in order.

I mean that sort of thinking, bad, right? I mean what if I didnt sell him out? Then he'd have eaten SunnyD and Evil wins. Then you gotta think that The Powers knew I'd sell him out so then maybe it was destined for me to be evil and then it isnt my fault.

See, but I know thats not the case. I know it is my fault. I see every fucking step perfectly clearly, from the first time the sheets lifted, all the way to cutting that professor up and I know that it was me every step of the way.

Yesterday was a lie. Yesterday was one of those freak days when I dream that Im actually going to get better and that Ive actually got a chance. Yesterday was a perky, fucking, 'everything is going to be fine if we all just hug' Buffy fucking Summers days. Today is a 'Welcome to Planet Faith you're totally fucked' day.

My lawyer called. Apparently the cops will want to talk to me next week and I have to report to Mr Fucking Browning twice a day until further notice.

I dont want to go back.

Fuck.

Good night, diary. Im going to slut myself so I look 21 and go blow this weeks food money getting fucking pissed in a club. Maybe some random prince fucking charming will pop along and make it all go away for a few hours so I can face tomorrow.

Gilbert....

Gilbert wanders up, holding a folder with, presumably the latest transcripts from Faith's appartment.

"Here you go Mr Fu.. Err *cough*, Mr Browning. Apparently something went down. She's plenty freaked. His lordship wanted me to remind you that she cant find out about our little monitoring exercise here."

"Henry reads this?" Christian asks, surprised.

"Oh yeah, he's the one who ordered it. 'A1 priority' he said. He had us follow her for a while, but she's a paranoid little bitch and we almost got busted a couple of times. He called it off after that."

Huh? "Henry?" Christian blinks, "Err, Henry said not to follow her?"

"Yeah. Anyway, we dont really need to. I mean, we couldnt follow her when she went patroling after the Slayers were hurt, but from what we can gather, these entries are pretty true. Fortunatly you dont let her go out much, so we only have to watch her home, her work and that dump of a nightclub that she likes." Gilbert chuckles, "You know, the one you explicitly told her never to go to again."

"Hmmf."

Gilbert's smile fades. "Look, she didnt arrive at the club Saturday night. Obviously something got in the way and she got into a fight or something. Anyway, sounded serious from what we got."

"So, if she didnt arrive..."

"..yeah, we lost her. It's not our fault. Henry said to nix the on foot tracking. She left the house at saturday 10:43pm and didnt arrive back until 10:29pm the sunday. Anyway, here you go. Ill give you a call if we find anything more."

Sunday, September 17th

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

What a fucking nightmare. I'm so fucking dead. I cant.. fuck.

[2 minutes. Sound of pacing & crying.]

Mr Fucking Browning is gunna fucking kill me. Ok, fuck him, I'll deal with him later.

Gotta calm down. Gotta think. Gotta deal.

What would the Doc ask? Probably some crap about what I'm feeling, right?

Ok, I can do that. I can face this.

Im scared, just like when I was a kid. I woke up and it was all I could no not to scream. I was looking at the ceiling, and thinkin'...

Oh god, I cant think about this.

Ok, I'll come back to it, right? You don't mind, do you Doc? Nah, didnt think so.

[pause again]

I wanna run. I wanna pack my bags and hit the road. I need to put distance between me and that fucked up psycho.

I cant though. Mr Fucking Browning and his Watcher buddies would have the FBI onto me. Thats what happens to paroled cons who run, or so he tells me atleast once a fucking week. 'The council is everywhere, Faith'. Yeah? Well fuck you too.

Can't run. Gotta think.

Maybe prison would be ok. It'd get me away from her and safe, right? Locked into some little cell where she cant get to me?

No. Cant think like that. The slammer freaked me out. I cant stand being locked away. Oh yeah, last night proved what a big fucking button push that is. I cant go back to prison. What the fuck was I thinking?

Shit. Focus!

I gotta think this through.

Tonight was random.

It has to be random.

It has to be.

[pause again]

Ok. Gotta think about something else. The fight. I'll think about that.

Well, Im not goin' to work tomorrow, that's fucking obvious.

Physically I dont think anything is broken. Looks like he clawed the skin and cut through in a couple of places. No wonder that first hit hurt so much, he must have used claws. It still hurts like fuck.

It's deep, but it's not bleeding, which is good, right? That psycho did a pretty good job of patching it up. Id look under the bandages more, but I dont wanna take 'em off. I think the bruising is pretty deep. It hurts when I bend even a little.

Ok, so what happened, you ask Doc? Well I went out to get smashed and score and instead I get into a fight, got my arse whipped, got killed a couple of guys, ran like a coward, drowned my sorrows and then ran into this fucking psycho nutjob.

Mr Fucking Browning is so gunna kill me, and I deserve it too. Fuck.

I should tell him. I should call him and tell him.

I want to tell, I really do. I want to be a nice little Buffy and spill my fucking guts and how much of a loser I and then try and fix it, I really do, but how can I make it better? Those guys are both dead.

Oh shit.

The bitch! She said "Careful, dont break anything." Shit. Shitshitshit! They wernt just looking for snacks, they were looking to breed.

Damn it.

I really should tell him. But then he'll ask about the rest of the night and he'll throw a fit over my 'underage drinking'. Fuck that, Ive been drinking responsibly since I was 12. He's going to ask questions and he's going to have perfect little fucking Mary there reading away at my fucking aura to see if Im lying and I just know he's going to ask about the rest too.

I should tell him about it... later I mean... incase its not just random. I should but I... I cant.

It was just random, right? She wasnt looking for me, right? Just random.

Yeah, I dont believe it either.

Oh god, Im sweating and Im frightened. Im crying like a pathetic little kid. I think Im gunna be sick.

I should sleep. Sleep. Bed. Comforting.

Fat chance.

Monday, September 18th

I cant believe it.

Last night, I curled up in the blanket like it would keep all the boogey men away and I couldnt bring myself to turn off the light. I was too fucking afraid. It's like I'm 9 again. I cant believe I did the curling up with the blanket thing again.

Im so fucking weak and pathetic.

Anyway, Im less freaked today. Im not such a total fucking mess, anyway.

Yesterday was pretty fucking freaky. First those fucking vamps, then that psycho stalker thing.

I must have been so drunk.

Funny isnt it? I thought I'd inherited my Mum's tolerance for hard drinking. I didnt think I drank that much. Maybe it was the fight.

I called in sick today and Harry gave me the 'you better be in tomorrow or it's no job and no parole' line. Fuck bastard. Just hearing his voice is enough to make me want to strangle him sometimes.

I called Mr Fucking Browning and he was like 'sure, whatever'. Like Im such a chore. Well, news flash, I dont want to be his little fucking slave either.

He was fine about me skipping this morning and Ill try to skip the evening meet too. Figure my chances are 50/50 there. If I were him, Id want to make sure my evil little arse wasnt on a bus to Canada or plotting to murder all his little superfriends, but then again he might have something important to do like chatting with his poindexter little pals from England, so maybe he wont care.

I hope I get some sleep tonight. Im feeling less freaked out. Not brave enough to answer my door when someone knocked on it this afternoon, but calm enough to sleep some in the afternoon I think.

Tuesday morning, September 19th

Mr Fucking Browning called and wants me to come in for a lunch time meeting. '12:30 on the dot. Don't be late.'

What was it the wetworks team called Wes? A Fucking ponce? I wonder what it means.

Harry looked me right in the boobs and told me '1 hour' and 'I better not be late back or I can find myself another job'. The rat bastard.

We have some really sharp knifes in the kitchen and I feel a lot safer since I scored one.

12:30? Great. Looks like Ill have to spent this week's drinking money on a fucking taxi.

Gee, listen to me. Whine much?

Who'd have thought I'd turn out to be just like dear old mom?

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