1. Chapter 1

Mold in the Closet

Disc: None

* * *

Dear Diary, 

Today I get to meet my mother. Her name is Faith, and she is crazy. She lives in the Stockton State Women's Correctional Facility.

I know because we're going there now, and because it's written on the pass Daddy gave me. It says in large, bright red letters

that I am a VISITOR and not a prisoner. I've never met my mother before, but from what Daddy tells me, she is a nice lady.

I've had a picture of her for as long as I can remember. It's of her and Daddy. They're both smiling, and laughing, and they look happy.

I hope she's happy to see me. I don't know why Mommy has to live here, but Daddy said it's because of something bad she did a very

long time ago.

* * *

"Ready, Prima Donna?"

This nickname was reserved with special rights. First, only Xander, or for more proper title, Daddy, can use it. Second, it is only used when his nerves are too on end to think of anything comforting to say. And third, it had the cute back-story beneath it that only Xander and Lena could tell. The story was a bit of a blur to them both now, but it eagerly consisted of Lena's cooing all through the night and a too famous Opera singer.

"Ready."

Lena was pretty. She had a head of thick hair, overflowing with the slight curls and chestnut colour of both her Mother's and Father's own heads. Her cheekbones were high and a just barely visible pair of dimples appeared across her face with every slight emotion. She was seven years old, and felt that it was normal, just meeting her Mother. When she told her four foot tall, blonde, and well kempt friends where she would be today, why she would be missing from the normal routine of school, play, school, play, they got a funny look across their faces and asked, "Why don't you know your Mother?" And Lena couldn't answer their questions. And so she asked her Father.

Xander explained, in layman's terms, that Faith had done some bad things many, many years ago, and she was repaying her debt to society by living in the catacombs of a dank, dripping 8 x 10 cell and surviving on the most minimum of edible foods. Of course, he didn't include much detail.

The car doors opened, Lena was removed from her seat with the unneeded help of Xander, and both made their way up to the front steps, through the gates and delicately operated security doors, and both steadily received hand cramps from showing their badges every few moments. Xander's hand, large, warm, and worn from years of work in the business of construction, wrapped around Lena's as they were led down a dizzying amount of hallways.

Xander breathed louder than usual, and Lena noticed. She squeezed his hand and smiled a bit blankly up at her Father. She knew, from Xander's tenseness, that she as well should be fidgeting. She wasn't. She wasn't nervous, and this she knew for a fact, was weird. She was about to meet her Mother for the first time, and she wasn't nervous. Deep in between the cracks and at the very bottoms of her heart Lena thought fear would rise, and yet it didn't. Should she worry?

A few men dressed in all too professional outfits, complete with gun holsters, handcuffs and mace all stuffed into their utility belts, ran by. Xander pulled Lena a little closer. Everything that passed them on their journey to the magical land which would introduce normal life to the youngest of the Harris Clan was clean, shiny, blinding with a reflective shadow that could show the pigments of your skin without leaning in too close. There weren't many people around, except for, surprisingly, a few doctors, officers, and other specialized looking people who probably had no business being at the Stockton Facility.

With one final curve around a hallway, revealing rows and rows of baby blue coloured doors, backed by a sort of chipped manila colouring, Lena finally let herself into the fear that slowly crept upon her fingers, toes, and pit of her child sized stomach. This feeling was similar to the stage fright she had gotten while performing in the class play, standing in the middle of the makeshift stage, wearing a grocery bag as a vest and her lines completely void in her mind. She hated that feeling.

One of the doctors Lena had seen passing them in the hall just moments before was suddenly standing beside them, unlocking one of the doors. They had stopped walking. Maybe her mind had deceived her on just how nervous she was. The doctor was looking at her as his fingers blindly, yet expertly thumbed through a complicated set of keys and slipped it into the key hole. His mouth was moving, words were coming out, but Lena only caught the last few.

"…and don't worry if your Mom is a little sleepy. It's just the medicine."

The sickening door, a single paned glass window backed by bars providing the most light in the hallway opened, and Lena was gently shoved inside.

The seat beneath her, a cold plastic like synthetic that stood her child hairs on end was strangely comfortable. It agreed well with the curves of her bottom and her hips, though it dissolved swallowed her in its extreme adult size. She liked it. Her legs hung over the edge, swinging back and forth as she silently awaited the arrival of her companion.

The room was big, too big for Lena. The table and two chairs sat perfectly centered in the middle of the layout. Two doors stood exactly opposite of each other, one behind each chair. The walls were the same envelope colour and peeled in the same way as the table before Lena. It was another greyish, turquoise, reminding her of the plastic seats she sat on every day in the school cafeteria. No windows.

It took a few minutes, three if Lena had counted, though she was not bored enough. The door opposite her swung slowly open and the fictional woman she had wanted to call Mommy for so long was led inside by a short, stumpy sort of man, a guard she guessed. Lena wondered when he first met his mother, at birth, like the rest of the kids, or maybe in a surrounded by invisible cameras, being watched by another set of lazy guards on another floor of this place.

She was dressed in a uniform pair of pants, dark blue, possibly the most colourful thing in the room besides Lena's own bright clothes. A white tank top hung off of her still toned and olive skinned body, a mix of muscular and thinning pairs of limbs. Handcuffs, not the typical kind of cold, glinting metal, but a safer looking version wrapped in a soft, and leather feeling material hung at her wrists, keeping them slightly rendered in front of her abdomen. And just as the doctor mentioned, her eyes were tired, drooping, looking like sleep hadn't graced her in years, if possible. That wasn't true though, she was always asleep it seemed these days. Too many pills.

Faith took a heavy seat at the identical chair sitting across from Lena. Her hands rest on the table. She said nothing, didn't move, just sat with eyes that looked like they so badly wanted to blink and never open up again. Lena just watched. The little girl's hands shook slightly in her lap and she wished Daddy was in the room with them.

"S'okay… I won't bite."

The words started as a weakly attempted joke and absently transformed into the strangest image Lena could come up with in her mind; her mother snapping and snarling like the monster this place thought she was. No, that wouldn't happen. A smile cracked at the sides of her lips and strenuously grew.

Faith could see it coming before it even grew. Lena's smile mirrored her own cocky, sarcastic face that she knew her favourite Slayer hated to love. However, if Lena was anymore like Faith than need be, it would be for her own good that Xander kept his eyes on her, and straightened her out when needed. But Faith didn't think that would need to happen. She could already see the heart of a Harris shining through the eyes of her daughter. No, she wouldn't be anything like her.


	2. Chapter 2

Been Awhile. Decided to continue.

Dear Diary,

I haven't seen my mother in ten years. I was allowed to see her once, a long time ago, but then, after that, I couldn't go anymore. Neither could Dad. She couldn't have visitors anymore because she was "unstable". But they're the ones who did that to her. They make her swallow handfuls of pills day and night and then call her "unstable". But her sentence is finished now. No, sorry. Not finished. A good friend, someone named Angel, ironically I think, is getting her out. I think he's a lawyer, or works for a firm or something. All I know is he has power to get a murderer out of jail early. She killed someone once. It was a long time ago though and I don't think it really matters anymore. She's coming home today.

&&&&&

There's this… hole, a void where there should be something. Quiet when there should be sarcastic jokes, playful innuendo and banter. Or, no there's something there. She's in there, she is there, but there was something in the way. Something was stopping her from completely resurfacing, because God, Buffy wasn't even this bad when she was resurrected.

This feels old. Me, taking care of Faith. Like bringing her back home after a long night at the Bronze. We've always taken care of each other. Not just me on her. Strangely, it's never been like that. She's always backboned the both of us.

It's like an hour drive, Stockton back to Sunnydale. And, I know she's still sedated, or… relaxed, or whatever the hell they did to her, but I still expected more. She's said like… one word. Hey. When we first saw each other today I hugged her, I cried, I kissed her and she stood still. Her eyes were just pockets, just holes in her head and nothing seemed to see out of them. I lead her by the hand, I smiled into her neck, and only when we had gotten into the car and were halfway down I-45 did she mumble towards my direction, "Hey."

She looks the same, I knew she would. Still tall, thinner now than usual though, still beautiful, but everything she does seems decided for her. She just sat in the passenger's seat, staring out the windshield, and I didn't know what to say.

Lena's going to be disappointed. That much I know already. I think the inner 'six-year old missing her mother' has emerged in her a lot more than usual lately. She probably expected to meet someone completely new today. She would be waiting at home on the couch for this hero to step through the door and back into her life and be the girl I've always told stories about.

Gosh I don't want to see her face when Faith comes home. I don't want to look into her eyes, I don't want to see her bet let down once again. I don't think I could handle it.

We've been sitting in the idle car for a few minutes. I've been trying to explain the basic, most general things about Lena. Age, favourite foods, biggest fears in life, and the like. None of this is really necessary. I just want her to say something, to look alive. She nods every few words, and then there's silence again.

"Maybe we should … save seeing Lena for later. You look… tired." She turns her head to look at me and expression slowly takes over. It's weak, but clearly states just how tired she is, and how much she agrees with me. I nod back to her, remove my keys from the ignition, and step out of the car. Faith follows suit, standing in one spot before I approach her again and lead her towards the front door.

The bedroom is close by and without stopping I direct her to it. With my intentions in her head, she wordlessly takes a seat on the edge and for the first time looks straight up into my eyes. I smile, bend down, and went about to slipping off her shoes. Like a child, like she needed to be taken care of, she lie down on her side and strangely, if I remember her insomnia-like sleeping pattern, slipped quickly off to sleep.

I left her alone, turning off the lights and shutting the door. And Lena seemed to be waiting.

A head from the top of the stairs poked down the entry way. She smiled a standard grin, as if nothing of excitement was happening these days, and waited for me to speak. I waited for her, smiling back. "So…." She started—

"She's sleeping." I finished. "Tomorrow. I promise."

….

"Can I just… take a look? I want to see her."


End file.
