Nocturne Grim

Nocturne Grim

Chapter Two

Notes: Hmm - has anyone worked out who our illustrious Severus has been brought in to help? If you haven´t, then this chapter should clear that up for you. I apologise for her voice - I haven´t written her in a while, so sorry in advance if she seems a bit off.

And please suspend your reality-belief thing for a little while re. what I´m up to, because I know this would be a very...doubtful situation at the best of times, but hey! I do think that working with wizards and demons gives me some kind of reason for the whole uber-surreal thing.

Oh, and someone please shoot my muse for me. It won´t stop working! I want a break!

______________________

"Good afternoon, Faith."

Who was this guy?

Sitting on the opposite side of the thick panel of glass, Faith studied the man sitting opposite her through the pane. She had never seen him before. At least, she couldn´t remember ever seeing him before.

Not that she minded having a visitor.

In the two weeks since she had turned herself in to the police department in Los Angeles, the only person who had visited her had been Angel and, even then, he had only been able to stay for short periods.

Whoever he was, he was studying her with the same feigned disinterest she was showing in him, although he did have the slight advantage of knowing her name. His hooded eyes were dark, almost black and strangely emotionless, as he watched her examine him, shadowed by thick brows, over a hooked nose.

His skin seemed very pale, as if he didn´t see much of the sun, and if she hadn´t been so sure he was human - she could see the faint pulse in his throat - she would have sworn he was a vampire. He had the look of one.

Black hair hung around his face to his shoulders, tangled with strands clinging to his cheeks. The collar of his white shirt was open, making her think that maybe he wasn´t used to the heat outside.

But it was still those dark, empty eyes that kept pulling back her attention.

Deep, obsidian pools that seemed bottomless.

Wicked freaky.

Her eyes still narrowed dubiously, she pushed her hair back from her face with one hand. Keep it cool, she told herself. Just because he´s got freaky-ass eyes, don´t go nuts. "So, who are you?"

"I suppose you might call me a friend," he replied levelly, his dark eyes still on her face. His voice was smooth and calm with an accent that she recognised, which made her sit up a little straighter in her seat.

After all, how many English guys had she met?

And how many of them had tried to kill her lately?

"You from the Watcher´s council?" she demanded guardedly, her feet braced on the floor, ready to push her chair back and depart if he admitted it.

She had been on the run from the assassins from the Watcher´s Council, the body that officiated over the lives of the Vampire Slayers and their guides, the Watchers, when she had arrived in Los Angeles from Sunnydale, the Slayer centre of operation on the Western Seaboard.

A Vampire Slayer by destiny, a simple misjudgement on her part a year before had resulted in the death of a human and had lead her in a rapid downwards spiral that had resulted in her joining with the darkest force present in Sunnydale at that time: A man-cum-demon by the name of Richard Wilkens III, the Mayor of the town.

He had embraced her, cared for her and treated her with an affection no one - not even her mother - had provided and, in return, she had done what he asked, went where he said and learned to touch the darkness.

It had grown addictive, the care he gave her but also the darkness he had steeped her in. It had grown over several painfully short months, culminating in a face-off with Buffy Summers, the other Slayer, and left Faith in a coma for almost a year.

She had awoken to find that the man who had all but adopted her was dead, that her allies were gone and that the warmth of affection that had reassuringly masked the darkness that she had touched had been ripped away.

It was then, when she had faced the other Slayer once more as an enemy, that she realised how far she had fallen, how deep into the dark she had actually plunged. So she had run as far and as fast as she could, hoping that she might yet be able to find the one to end it for her.

She had turned to Angel, a souled vampire and the former lover of Buffy Summers, using his friends and allies against him. It had all been with the aim of forcing him into a confrontation, hoping he would be the one to kill her, to end it all.

Instead, much to her confusion and surprise he had extended the hand of friendship to her, giving her a lifeline to cling to, some kind of hope for redemption.

However, from the moment that she had awoken from the coma, she had been considered a dangerous liability to the Council, which had left her as nothing more than a target.

Valued less than a stray dog on the streets.

It went without saying that she didn´t really like the Watchers Council, so if this guy was one of them...

"No."

"Oh," She felt the tightness in her muscles relax and casually leaned back in her seat. "If you´re not one of them, who are you? And don´t give me that `friend´ bullshit. I want a straight answer."

The man´s lips lifted a little at one side. "I suspected you might," he said, pulling his seat closer and resting his left arm on the desk, his right hand holding the phone. "My name is Severus Snape. I was told I might be able to help you."

Faith laughed mirthlessly. "Bit late for that, Sev," she replied, leaning forward on the table on her side of the glass panel. Might as well humour the guy. "In case you hadn´t noticed, I´m already banged up in this place for the next twenty years at least, so unless you got some way to bust me out and a good reason for me to leave..."

A dark brow rose. "You would rather stay here than have your freedom?"

"Look, buddy, I don´t know who you are, where you came from or what you want from me, but I´ve done stuff that I kinda want to make up for," She looked around the grim walls. "That´s why I´m in here in the first place."

"It´s killing you."

"Huh?"

Severus, if that was his real - and wicked cool - name, was studying her. "This place is killing you, Faith," he said quietly. "I recognise the signs. How are you meant to make amends when you are ready to give up?"

Faith felt like she had been hit by a two-by-four.

How did he know?

How the hell did he know?

The hand holding the telephone to her ear dropped and she stared at him, a thrill of nervous unease shooting down her spine. Who was this guy? How could he tell what she was feeling? Why had he come to see her?

He simply gazed back through the glass at her without any of the emotion she was used to seeing in the eyes of men who had looked at her as closely as he had. She had seen fear, lust, anger, worry, but never had she seen emptiness like that in the strange, dark man´s eyes.

How long she sat there just staring at him, she couldn´t say.

It could have been seconds or an eternity until she picked up the receiver again and held it to her ear.

"Who are you?" her voice shook as she said it.

"Someone who has been in the same place as you are now. A person who strayed off the path and lost their way," he answered, his eyes never leaving her face, despite being half-closed. "I can help you."

Faith was surprised to realise that the hand holding the telephone was shaking. "I don´t get it," she said, looking down at the desk, then back up at the man´s passive, pale face. One of his brows rose in silent question. "Why?"

"I have reasons," his answer was soft.

The Vampire Slayer studied him, then chuckled. "Same reason as I´m in here, huh?"

"Partially," he agreed, without further elaboration.

"Okay, I get you being all about the making up for crimes and all, but why the hell would you want me out?" He said nothing, studying her again, as if considering his options. "Oh, I get it. I´m your special project, huh? Where are you from? Different branch of Wolfram and Hart?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"C´mon," she challenged, leaning close to the glass, her free hand spreading on the pane. "You´re not from the watcher´s council and you come in with all this shit about wanting to help me out. You´re here for Wolfram and Hart, right? You want a Slayer onside and they decided to send someone older and smarter since Lindsey screwed up the negotiations."

His expression revealed nothing, although there was a slight tensing in the muscles in his right cheek. "I hate to shatter your illusions, Faith, but I am not from Wolfram and Hart. I was not sent to retrieve you for their benefit."

"Sure," she snorted. "Okay, Mister Mysterious, you´re English, you say you´re not Watcher´s Council or Wolfram and Hart, you´re wicked creepy. Any plans on telling me how the hell you found out about me?"

"I was contacted by an outside source who thought I might be interested in aiding someone who is in the same position that I was in when I was your age," the man said calmly, rising to his feet. "If you aren´t interested..."

She was on her feet too, torn between letting him leave and asking him to stay. A worried frown marked her features. "Hold up a second," she finally said. "How´d´you manage to get into the same mess I´m in?"

"Unfortunate choices," He remained standing, looking down at her. "I would regale you with the tale, but it culminates in death, dishonour and shame, the likes of which I doubt you would wish to hear about."

"Got that right," Faith muttered, shuddering.

She was still haunted by nightmares of the people that she had killed over a year before, when she had worked for Richard Wilkens, the Mayor-cum-wannabe-demon-overlord of Sunnydale. While he had seldom sent her to specifically kill people, he had certainly not discouraged the practise.

"I was fortunate enough to avoid being enclosed as you are," Brown eyes met black and the slayer was surprise to see a flicker of...something there. She wasn´t sure, but it almost could have been mistaken for sympathy. "This...system is pointless and out-dated. It only serves to break those who truly wish to make amends, while those who are unapologetic grow more resentful, which is why I have come here personally."

"To tell the board that their prisons suck ass?" she raised a brow.

His lips rose in the slight, half-smirk again. "While it is tempting, I was thinking more on having you liberated, in a fashion, so you might be able to make amends in a way that would not kill you, as this place no doubt will."

Faith wasn´t sure what to think.

Yeah, he was a complete stranger and he had wicked creepy eyes, but something told her that he wasn´t lying. Something about him did seem to strike a familiar chord and she found herself wondering...

What if he could help her?

Would he be able to get her out of the Hellhole where, every single day, some tough bitch with an attitude tried to challenge her and she ended up having to fight, but trying with all her skill to hold back, to end the fight peacefully?

She had already hospitalised three women and that was acting in sheer self-defence and had become more than familiar with solitary confinement, where she was left to contemplate her actions.

Despite the fact that they were meant to be unarmed, some of her assailants had somehow got weapons, although they seldom had the skill to harm her. Only once had a knife made contact, leaving her with a raw wound to her torso, which healed in a matter of hours.

No doubt, Wolfram and Hart or perhaps the Watchers Council had a hand in that.

"Okay," she said, motioning for him to sit back down. "You got my attention. You say you can help me? Gonna tell me anything about you, so I got some kind of basis for even thinking about trusting you?"

Severus looked at the clock on the bare wall behind him, then back at her. "I will detail as much as I can at present," he replied. "Should it be insufficient evidence for you by the time I have to leave, I will return tomorrow and continue."

***

Lying on her back on her bunk, her hands folded over her stomach, Faith stared up at the grimy ceiling, her brow wrinkled in thought. On the bunk beneath her, one of the other girls snorted in her sleep, tossing and turning.

It had been a wicked weird afternoon.

All because of the guy who had come to visit her.

A wizard.

He had told her - with a straight face and no sign that he was joking in his expression - that he was a straight up, A-class, magic-wand-using, cauldron-simmering, broomstick-flying wizard.

She had laughed, but he hadn´t.

She had thought he was a whacko.

Those black eyes had stared at her and he had started to speak. His voice hadn´t risen above a mesmerising murmur, his tone a pitch oddly hypnotic. He had caught her attention and held it, something few people had ever done.

Without breaking so much as a smile, he had told her of `his world´, of magic and muggles, the wizard´s word for non-magical people. He had told her about his work, briefly informing her of what he had done to earn himself a literal black mark, because of which he wanted to redeem himself.

Something about a Dark Lord snake guy.

He hadn´t been big on the details, telling her that it was a subject that she should not hear about in her current frame of mind, which implied that whatever had happened in his world had been bad. Very bad.

Skimming through nearly thirty years of the history of his world, he had told her a list of names, of people she felt she should have known: the bad guy, Voldemort; his followers, the Death Eaters; a powerful good wizard called Dumbledore; a scarred orphan kid who was fated to fight the Dark because of his name, Harry Potter.

It was that kid who had caught her attention and she asked about him.

The Boy-Who-Lived.

Despite an initial reluctance, Severus had told her how the boy had been saved by chance and yet, bore a scar, which made him legendary and cursed him as much as it gained him uncalled for fame.

He was expected, because of that fluke, once-in-an-eternity chance, to be able to defeat the Dark Lord, who had inflicted the scar on him, to be able to face him and triumph without so much as another scar.

It was because of that scar and the connections it had brought that Harry Potter had been one of the first to fall in the final battle, Snape had said, a strange expression of sorrow crossing his face.

The kid must have been something to make that much of an impact.

Faith closed her dark eyes briefly. Potter reminded her of both herself and Buffy. Both cursed with a task, but - unlike Buffy - she and Harry hadn´t been able to fulfil what was expected of them.

They had both done all that they could and stumbled.

Harry Potter had fallen.

Faith, though...

She smiled wearily.

She had stumbled, yes. Angel had been the first one to catch her, to break her fall and now, the wicked creepy Snape guy was willing to reach down into the Hell she inhabited and help her towards the light again.

It was going to be a few hours before she found out exactly why, how and where he intended to have her serving her penance, when he arrived for visiting time again, but for now, she was comfortable just considering what she had been told.

Somehow, the magic thing didn´t surprise her.

Her musings were disrupted when she heard the quiet squeal of the cell door opening a little. Faith jerked bolt upright, only to be greeted by a massive fist that sent her slamming back against the wall.

The three other girls in the cell all jumped, waking with the sound of Faith´s impact with the floor, as she plunged off the bunk. One of them leaned out from the bunk, muttering curses, only to be hauled out of the bunk and cast towards the door.

"Out!" a deep snarl of a voice ordered savagely, her groggy cellmates scrambling off their bunks and, after taking a look at whatever had thrown her onto the floor, fleeing without argument.

Pushing herself up, using the wall as leverage, Faith raised a hand to her face with a wince. She could taste blood and her cheek was burning just along her cheekbone. If she was to take bets, she would have said that the blow had burst her cheek open.

Listening warily, she ducked when she heard a rush of air, avoiding another blow from the immense fist of her assailant, ducking and swinging herself found, to kick upwards into the...thing´s gut, sending it tottering back towards the open door.

Taking up a defence stance, she groaned.

Not again.

If the fighting cellmates weren´t bad enough...

Her attacker straightened up, looming over her. It had to be some kind of big-ass demon, with moonlight washed grey skin that looked like gravel, big teeth, spines like a porcupine´s ass all over it´s head and gleaming red eyes.

"Slayer."

"Gimme a fuckin´ break..." she muttered, shaking her head.

"I will paint the walls with your blood, Slayer!"

With two quick sidelong glances around the room, Faith knew the only defence she had were the sheets from the beds and the beds themselves. "That´s great," she shifted on her feet as the demon moved towards her. "Bit arty for me, but hey! Whatever bakes your cookies!"

"Die!"

Dodging the flurry of blows from immense, clawed fists, she managed to get a decent kick and punch in on the thing´s face. "Original," she grunted, swinging her legs hard against the demon´s with enough force to knock it off it´s feet.

Damn, it was fast!

Before she could take advantage of it falling, it was on it´s feet again and lunging towards her. Once more, she found herself slammed against the wall, her shoulder cracking painfully out of position.

Yanking the dislocated joint back into place after using her limp arm as a weapon to smash the demon across the head, she blocked a kick and followed through with a punch, which made the demon falter, but move forward again.

She needed to get back into training, she knew.

Desperately.

Had it been a year before, she knew she could have taken this guy, six of his equally big and bad friends and still had time for a quick screw against the back wall of the Bronze, but now...

She was out of touch and condition.

In body and in soul.

She didn´t want to be fighting it.

She didn´t want to be fighting anything.

Fighting humans in self-defence was one thing, but a demon...

Talon-like claws caught her across her gut, making her gasp in surprise and pain, the heel of her right hand driving up beneath the thing´s chin with enough force to snap the head back.

But not enough to kill.

"Shit!" she moaned, backing away, searching for a weapon.

One sweaty hand grabbed the curved head of one of the bunks, the tightly-riveted metal squealing as she pulled on it with one hand, her other blocking the blows from her attacker.

"C´mon, c´mon..." she muttered wildly, jerking against the metal.

It gave, coming away in her hand and she swung the bar up, under the demon´s jaw but it´s hand locked around her wrist and reversed the blow of the piping, smashing it against her face and knocking her reeling.

Blood ticklishly oozed down from her split forehead and she blinked furiously, trying to clear her vision.

A massive, leathery hand grabbed her around the throat and she gasped as she was lifted off her feet and smacked back against the wall with enough force to jar all the air from her lungs.

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Faith´s vision was blurring when she heard the male voice bellow the word and the next thing she knew, the demon pinning her against the wall by her throat seemed to have been blasted backwards, away from her.

Sliding down the wall heavily, she tried to force down waves of dizziness, blackness edging in on her line of sight. Her head was throbbing wildly from the blows to forehead and jaw that she had received and her throat burned with every breath she took, but she didn´t care about that.

She wanted to know who had stopped the demon.

"Petrificus totallus," the same voice said and she saw her attacker, which had been in the process of scrambling to it´s feet again, going rigid and falling flat on it´s face just in front of a shadowed figure in the doorway.

Blinking blood out of her eyes, she squinted at him. "Who...?"

"Lumos," the man said quickly, a glow emanating from a stick in his hand, casting a pale, cream-green wash of light across the face she remembered from visiting hour that afternoon. Crossing the room, he knelt by her side, lifting her face with his free hand. "Bloody hell..."

"Sev...? How did...what...what the hell are you doing in here?"

"My name," he said softly, as he seemed to make a cold compress appear by magic and pressed it to her bloody forehead. "Is Severus, not Sev. And I came here with the express purpose of making sure you were all right."

Wincing, her vision blurring in and out of focus, she studied him as he cleaned the blood from her forehead. "How´d´you get in anyway?"

"Apparation with an invisibility cloak," he replied. "And you´re leaving with me."

"Hey!" she started to protest.

Black eyes met hers determinedly. "Faith, I arrive to see you on the verge of being killed by a demon of some variety. I am not about to leave you in a prison, where the wrong people can pay to have you murdered in your own cell, simply because you rejected them."

"You don´t know that..."

"That it was sent to kill you? I saw the guard letting it in."

Faith closed her eyes, the back of her head resting against the wall. "Shit..."

"I am assuming that means you know who may have sent it."

"Wolfram and Hart or the Council," she muttered. "Both of them want me dead."

Snape´s dark eyes glittered. "You are not staying here," he said firmly. "I don´t care if it´s the correct legal procedure or not. To Hell with waiting. You are leaving this place with me. Now."

The Slayer sighed. She couldn´t find the strength to argue and if she had to face another demon, another mad cell mate, another envoy sent by her enemies, she knew she wouldn´t fight anymore.

If he wanted to get her out, so be it.

Even if he killed her as soon as they were out, anything had to be better than this.

However, that did pose a problem...

"One problem," Faith said, her eyes still closed as she leaned back against the wall, Snape still carefully sponging blood from her face. "We´re in here. Kinda locked up and not exactly good for walking right out."

"I didn´t come completely unprepared, Faith," he said quietly. "If you are willing to trust me to get you out of here..."

"Actually, I think I might stay here for another coupla days, y´know," she said dryly, opening her eyes and giving him a pained smirk. "Gotta love a daily ass kicking...not too good for the complexion but ow!"

Snape´s lips twitched. "Oops. Did that sting a little?"

"Prick," she muttered, trying to glare at him. "So, spill. How´d´you plan on hauling my beaten ass outta here?" One of his hands plunged into his robes and he withdrew a small, rectangular piece of card. "Oh! Right! A `Get out of jail free´ card."

He actually gave her a suggestion of a smile. "Actually," he said, as he turned the card over, revealing exactly what she had said. Faith stared at it, then released a loud peal of laughter. "I did hope you would appreciate the irony."

"So whaddya do with it? Give it to the guards and then we walk out?"

"Nothing quite so exciting as that, Faith," he replied with a chuckle, holding the card out towards her. "Take a good grip of the corner and don´t let go. It may be a bit of an odd sensation."

"Huh?"

"If you want out of here, take the card and hold tight," he said again.

Looking at the card, then him, she nodded, extending a hand and grasping the corner of the flimsy piece of card.

Instantly, it felt like a hook had plunged into her stomach and she was being jerked forward. She tried to pull her hand away from the card, but it was too late and the cell dissolved around her in a whirl of grey and moonlight.