Part 11 - Mommy Comes to Visit
The trap was set and the bait had been lulled into sleep on the sofa, covered loosely with a blanket. Faith was so exhausted that it hadn't taken much to send her on her way, Giles and a spinning, shimmering crystal soothing her into sleep.
Willow, Xander and Anya crouched under the table, where Buffy hoped they'd be out of harms way. Giles and Wesley, with the books and their ingredients, could be heard chanting in low voices upstairs on a little-used balcony which overlooked the room. Buffy and Angel huddled close together in the kitchen, just behind the archway, standing quietly, hands clasped. The room was almost silent, the lights dimmed. Faith's words, before she'd slipped away from them into sleep, had indicated that Mommy dearest was on her way. They waited.
Faith moaned in her sleep, tossing her head on the pillow, muttering low in her throat. Buffy began to go to her, releasing her grip on Angel's hand. She moved two steps forwards, halting abruptly as the already low lights dimmed further, further, further, almost complete darkness now. Then flaring abruptly, pulsing so brightly that Buffy cried out as she closed her eyes tightly. Through her closed lids she could see the pulsing, dim, bright, dim, bright. It stopped suddenly, the lights flickering gently but not flaring as brightly as before. She opened her eyes warily. And the air - she could feel it growing perceptibly colder. She took a careful step backwards, feeling the solidity of Angel behind her, watching her breath plume in the now freezing air. He grasped her shoulders tightly as they regarded Faith, deep in the grip of whatever nightmare she inhabited, watching as she flung the blanket to one side, head shaking from side to side, mouth open in a silent scream.
The windows rattled suddenly as something smashed forcefully against the door, once, twice, the wood bending visibly inwards against the strain. The sound as the windows imploded and the door shattered were simultaneous. A resounding crack as the door gave way, splinters thrown outward into the room, dust rising in a cloud, pieces of door rattling as they hit the tiled floor. Shards of glass raining musically, lethally onto the floor, a glittering hail of sharpness.
Buffy dropped to the floor, rolling onto her knees, Angel close beside her as the sounds rained over them. Then silence.
Cautiously she raised her head, looking first in the direction of the table. Three frightened faces were looking back at her from under it. She smiled reassuringly at them before peering through the drifting dust towards the door. A shape stood in the opening - a woman's shape. Buffy gagged slightly at the stench from it. The skin was mottled and grey, mouldering; scabbed and oozing in some places, hanging from the bony frame. Hair clung to the skull, thin and sparse, clotted with dirt. Rags hung from the body; they might once have been clothes but no longer. Dark holes sat where the eyes should have been; the lips were black, scaley, parted. Hands hung down by its sides, tipped with long, dirt encrusted sharp nails. The head turned, and Buffy could see the nostrils flaring redly as it scented for something. Not something, though, Buffy knew; but Faith.
In front of her, on the sofa, Faith sat up, eyes wide and unblinking, and began to scream.
The thing opened its mouth. "Ahhhhh, little Faith." The voice was thick, clotted, dead. "I enjoyed your friends. So much red blooood..... But you've been bad. And Mommy's come to take you hoooommmmmmeeeee......"
Buffy rose to her feet, reminding herself sternly that she'd faced worse things than this. Some had even smelled as bad, she thought, swallowing, forcing herself to remain calm, reminding herself again that this wouldn't harm Faith. Angel rose to his feet beside her, nodding at her. Together they moved out into the open, watching as the thing's head swung sharply. Something burned in the empty eye sockets; Buffy could hear its breath rasping in and out of the ruined throat.
"I don't believe we've met," Buffy said loudly, trying to make herself heard over Faith's pealing, hysterical screams. She wondered briefly why she and Angel had volunteered for the distraction job. Of course, she reminded herself, because I'm the Slayer and he's a vampire. Silly me! How could I forget?
The thing that had once been Faith's mother laughed, a grating, corrupted, wet sound from its rotted throat. "We don't neeeed to meeeeet. You'rree deead, little girl. I don't need magic to help meee this time........." It began to move forwards, stiff but still moving quickly, grinning, empty eyes looking at her, feet grating on the broken glass from the windows. Buffy exchanged glances with Angel; as planned, they moved outwards, flanking it.
Above her, Buffy dimly heard Giles voice rise as the thing raised its hands, fingers hooked into slashing claws; there was a sharp flicker and the thing howled with sudden pain and anger as the spell abruptly stopped its ability to feed from Faith, effectively slamming a shield between them. Anya had provided them with some of the information; she'd actually remembered an instance from her time as a demon, when something similar to this had occurred. The rest of the gang had searched feverishly through books and eventually found the key spells, the unwritten rituals. And now it was time to use them, and stop the murderous corpse that had been Faith's mother.
It doubled over for a moment as it was cut off from Faith, its source, weakening slightly; then resumed its advance, hissing. It snarled and raised its head, looking up to where Giles and Wesley worked feverishly to complete the next stage of the working, started to move towards the stairs leading upwards. Buffy swallowed and launched herself forwards before she could think better of it, kicking out, booted foot hitting and knocking the thing backwards, turning its attention away from the balcony. She danced backwards, moving lightly on the balls of her feet, out of its reach. From the corner of her eye she saw movement as Angel came in from the other side. The stench grew worse as her kicks left gaping rents in the rotted, corrupted flesh.
It roared in anger, regaining its feet far more quickly than she would have believed possible, just in time to be knocked back again by Angel, spinning to its feet again, hissing its rage - he didn't move fast enough, surprised by its agility and it lashed out and caught him across the face, four parallel oozing gashes across his cheek. He yelped and staggered backwards, the dead thing following him, slashing again and again. He ducked, barely escaping its nails as it drove him back, but it was focused on him now. It had momentarily forgotten Buffy - till her kick sent it spinning round, knocking it away from Angel and against the wall with a wet thud. It staggered, falling to its knees, then rose again, hissing and growling, advancing towards Buffy.
"Hurry, Giles!" she howled over her shoulder, kicking out again and again, the sound of Faith's screams deafening, unable to believe that the thing kept coming - and coming......
The trap was set and the bait had been lulled into sleep on the sofa, covered loosely with a blanket. Faith was so exhausted that it hadn't taken much to send her on her way, Giles and a spinning, shimmering crystal soothing her into sleep.
Willow, Xander and Anya crouched under the table, where Buffy hoped they'd be out of harms way. Giles and Wesley, with the books and their ingredients, could be heard chanting in low voices upstairs on a little-used balcony which overlooked the room. Buffy and Angel huddled close together in the kitchen, just behind the archway, standing quietly, hands clasped. The room was almost silent, the lights dimmed. Faith's words, before she'd slipped away from them into sleep, had indicated that Mommy dearest was on her way. They waited.
Faith moaned in her sleep, tossing her head on the pillow, muttering low in her throat. Buffy began to go to her, releasing her grip on Angel's hand. She moved two steps forwards, halting abruptly as the already low lights dimmed further, further, further, almost complete darkness now. Then flaring abruptly, pulsing so brightly that Buffy cried out as she closed her eyes tightly. Through her closed lids she could see the pulsing, dim, bright, dim, bright. It stopped suddenly, the lights flickering gently but not flaring as brightly as before. She opened her eyes warily. And the air - she could feel it growing perceptibly colder. She took a careful step backwards, feeling the solidity of Angel behind her, watching her breath plume in the now freezing air. He grasped her shoulders tightly as they regarded Faith, deep in the grip of whatever nightmare she inhabited, watching as she flung the blanket to one side, head shaking from side to side, mouth open in a silent scream.
The windows rattled suddenly as something smashed forcefully against the door, once, twice, the wood bending visibly inwards against the strain. The sound as the windows imploded and the door shattered were simultaneous. A resounding crack as the door gave way, splinters thrown outward into the room, dust rising in a cloud, pieces of door rattling as they hit the tiled floor. Shards of glass raining musically, lethally onto the floor, a glittering hail of sharpness.
Buffy dropped to the floor, rolling onto her knees, Angel close beside her as the sounds rained over them. Then silence.
Cautiously she raised her head, looking first in the direction of the table. Three frightened faces were looking back at her from under it. She smiled reassuringly at them before peering through the drifting dust towards the door. A shape stood in the opening - a woman's shape. Buffy gagged slightly at the stench from it. The skin was mottled and grey, mouldering; scabbed and oozing in some places, hanging from the bony frame. Hair clung to the skull, thin and sparse, clotted with dirt. Rags hung from the body; they might once have been clothes but no longer. Dark holes sat where the eyes should have been; the lips were black, scaley, parted. Hands hung down by its sides, tipped with long, dirt encrusted sharp nails. The head turned, and Buffy could see the nostrils flaring redly as it scented for something. Not something, though, Buffy knew; but Faith.
In front of her, on the sofa, Faith sat up, eyes wide and unblinking, and began to scream.
The thing opened its mouth. "Ahhhhh, little Faith." The voice was thick, clotted, dead. "I enjoyed your friends. So much red blooood..... But you've been bad. And Mommy's come to take you hoooommmmmmeeeee......"
Buffy rose to her feet, reminding herself sternly that she'd faced worse things than this. Some had even smelled as bad, she thought, swallowing, forcing herself to remain calm, reminding herself again that this wouldn't harm Faith. Angel rose to his feet beside her, nodding at her. Together they moved out into the open, watching as the thing's head swung sharply. Something burned in the empty eye sockets; Buffy could hear its breath rasping in and out of the ruined throat.
"I don't believe we've met," Buffy said loudly, trying to make herself heard over Faith's pealing, hysterical screams. She wondered briefly why she and Angel had volunteered for the distraction job. Of course, she reminded herself, because I'm the Slayer and he's a vampire. Silly me! How could I forget?
The thing that had once been Faith's mother laughed, a grating, corrupted, wet sound from its rotted throat. "We don't neeeed to meeeeet. You'rree deead, little girl. I don't need magic to help meee this time........." It began to move forwards, stiff but still moving quickly, grinning, empty eyes looking at her, feet grating on the broken glass from the windows. Buffy exchanged glances with Angel; as planned, they moved outwards, flanking it.
Above her, Buffy dimly heard Giles voice rise as the thing raised its hands, fingers hooked into slashing claws; there was a sharp flicker and the thing howled with sudden pain and anger as the spell abruptly stopped its ability to feed from Faith, effectively slamming a shield between them. Anya had provided them with some of the information; she'd actually remembered an instance from her time as a demon, when something similar to this had occurred. The rest of the gang had searched feverishly through books and eventually found the key spells, the unwritten rituals. And now it was time to use them, and stop the murderous corpse that had been Faith's mother.
It doubled over for a moment as it was cut off from Faith, its source, weakening slightly; then resumed its advance, hissing. It snarled and raised its head, looking up to where Giles and Wesley worked feverishly to complete the next stage of the working, started to move towards the stairs leading upwards. Buffy swallowed and launched herself forwards before she could think better of it, kicking out, booted foot hitting and knocking the thing backwards, turning its attention away from the balcony. She danced backwards, moving lightly on the balls of her feet, out of its reach. From the corner of her eye she saw movement as Angel came in from the other side. The stench grew worse as her kicks left gaping rents in the rotted, corrupted flesh.
It roared in anger, regaining its feet far more quickly than she would have believed possible, just in time to be knocked back again by Angel, spinning to its feet again, hissing its rage - he didn't move fast enough, surprised by its agility and it lashed out and caught him across the face, four parallel oozing gashes across his cheek. He yelped and staggered backwards, the dead thing following him, slashing again and again. He ducked, barely escaping its nails as it drove him back, but it was focused on him now. It had momentarily forgotten Buffy - till her kick sent it spinning round, knocking it away from Angel and against the wall with a wet thud. It staggered, falling to its knees, then rose again, hissing and growling, advancing towards Buffy.
"Hurry, Giles!" she howled over her shoulder, kicking out again and again, the sound of Faith's screams deafening, unable to believe that the thing kept coming - and coming......