Friendemies

Chapter Four

"...Just who are you people!" yelled Xander Harris.

"We're the ones keeping evil from overdoing it," Gomez yelled back. "We're the Addams family." He turned for a second smiling grimly. "Fun time is over," he announced. "The big boys have finally made it to the top."

"What do you…" and the rest of the words died in Xander's mouth when he saw the things climbing over the top of the ridge. The man had mentioned that the bigger ones were coming earlier, but he hadn't fully realized what he meant. His mind had refused to fully process this new terror even though he had seen for himself a few minutes earlier.

The matured ones had finally reached the top and were scampering over each other in their zeal to get to their meals. Xander wasn't surprised when he realized that these had to be the same types that Buffy had such a hard time beating. Worse, they were carrying weapons, hand-made swords, huge clubs, and knives of various sorts. The Bringers were bad enough with their weapons, now the vamps were doing the same thing.

Gomez dispatched his latest attacker and swirled, facing the cliff. "Fester," he growled. His carefree demeanor had all but disappeared. "We've been playing with the kiddies. No more games."

"I'm right with you, brother," Fester all but growled. Any trace of jovialness had disappeared. Next to him stood his wife with her own pair of hatchets at the ready. She was quiet now but the gleaming fury in her eyes told Xander everything he needed to know.

The first two mature Turok-Han scampered from the abyss to stare at the human defenders. Unlike the younglings, they accessed their surroundings first. Both were carrying crude swords which looked more like clubs than anything else. They weren't much bigger than the younger ones, but their incisors teeth were huge and its other teeth were just as ragged. Their dark intent rolled off of them in waves.

"Cannibalism?" asked Gomez.

"The only way they could survive, brother," answered Fester. That was the most likely the reason why they carried weapons, not to uses against their prey, although that was certainly one of the reasons, but to bend of others of their kind as well as to subdue the weak. The creatures fed on each other eliminating the weak and in the process, becoming even more aggressive. "Xander, this is the reason why we carry enchanted weaponry. Your axe is nice, but…"

The young man responded automatically with words he'd used for years in his defense. "Magic tends to go screwy around me," he answered quickly, never taking his eye off of this new, far more dangerous threat.

"Tis, tis, my boy," said Gomez. "Sorry to hear that. But here," he continued as he pulled out a beautiful silver-plated rune covered machete and tossed it to Xander. "You might want to use this anyway, just in case. Never know when one of Grandmama's rune blades might come in handy." Then he quickly added, "my boy, don't let your fear of magic become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Xander's spine chilled as he heard the words and then caught the dagger. The words felt right as did the dagger. It was warm in his hand. It felt right for some reason. "Thanks," he uttered respectfully, as he gripped the weapon tighter. Wow, was he bonding to this weapon? It probably was and he didn't doubt it for a second. If he lived, maybe he would resolve to sit down and talk to this man and his weird family.

"Use it well, my boy." He turned to his brother whose gleaming eyes held the spark of madness that matched his wife's. "Xander, don't worry about Fester," he said as his elder brother began growling. "He's a very gentle soul. Wouldn't hurt a fly until he was trapped in the Bermuda triangle for all of those years. He was never quite right after that," Gomez shrugged. "But he won't hurt you."

"You don't know how glad I am to hear that," Xander responded, not believed everything that Gomez had just told him. Fester looked like he had the soul of a reformed axe murderer.

"Them, on the other hand," he said point at two monsters eyeing them cautiously before hunger overwhelmed them.

Both vampires attacked. Six more were right behind them. Behind them were thousands already climbing the wall with their claws and teeth. They were like roaches scampering up the wall.

The elders were finally coming up to play.

Faith quickly recovered from the vicious kick she received from one of the Turok-Hans eager to sample her blood. The second eldest slayer returned the kick as hard as she could, breaking a bone and then she crushed its head with the Troll hammer. Male or female, she didn't care; they both looked so much alike that you couldn't tell whatever it was anyway. The animalistic vampire was already dusting. Her clothes were already covered in vampire dust but again she didn't care. The slayer essence within was basking in glory as its host did what it was born to do, slay vampires; it didn't matter what kind.

Faith had nearly given up any hope of survival and started fighting with abandon, assisting the girls she could and quietly mourning the ones she couldn't. The Troll hammer was very effective against them but for this type of job it was a little too unwieldy. The scythe was made for this type of work, but she couldn't keep it for more than a few seconds at a time. Her sword was sufficient for the time being and all they had to do was to hold the undead for a few more minutes.

What she was concerned about were the mini-slayers. They were newbies, literally fighting for their lives with barely an inkling of what they could do and how to do it. The basic training had helped to save their lives but too many were falling, the numbers against them being too great. Honestly, she had no illusions about any of them getting out of this alive; after all, death was their gift. But she did feel sorry for the younger girls that hadn't had a chance to really experience life which was more than ironic as she had barely lived life herself. But she had made it to the age of twenty. Most of them hadn't and wouldn't make it to sixteen.

That was when the strangers had arrived, setting off her slayer senses. She had expected an attack from the weird group but instead they started laying into the vampires with an exuberance that she had to admire.

Exuberance? That's it. She had spent way too much time around Giles. But that she was dumb, but 'exuberance'? It wouldn't have been the word her mother would have said.

One of the strangers had saved Xander from falling over the edge where he fought a Turok-Han and now, Xander was in the middle of that group holding off the enemy and doing a pretty good job of it. Whoever–or whatever these people were, it was obvious that their mere presence had pissed off the First as soon as it had seen them, which made them alright in her book for the time being.

If only Xander had stayed out of the direct fighting against these demons!

\Within moments Faith found herself fighting alongside the obvious matriarch of the group. She was tall and slim with long dark hair almost the color of her skin tight dress (and how she moved in that very tight, full length thing was beyond Faith's comprehension), but move she did when it was necessary. In most cases, the stupid ones ran towards her seeking easy prey, and then they were dispatched with ruthless efficiency. There was style and grace to her movements and the swords she carried almost sang as she whirled them around. There was a darkness that seemed to shroud the woman's entire body except for the eyes. Faith hadn't seen anything remotely like that. She had to be some kind of witch.

The woman's eyes were pitiless yet held a passion that matched the utter coldness of the woman. What really set off her senses however was the zombified hand on her shoulder, assisting whenever and however needed. It was a freakish thing. However Faith couldn't deny its effectiveness. It it even jumped down and tripped the stupider vampires that had ignored it, causing them to fall right into those whirling blades. If it wasn't so freaky, she could have used an extra hand like that herself. She could think of a few things that she could use it for. And if it was really intelligent as she suspected…

A scream pulled her away from the woman as Vi, another slayette found herself facing a huge Turok-Han. The creature had already slashed her once and was about to repeat the attack. This Turok-Han was stronger than the others and young Vi, holding a sword didn't have a chance against it. Faith, engaged against a pair of vampires, did the only thing she could and threw the hammer to her. "Vi," she yelled as the hammer was sailing towards her.

Vi caught it and started swinging away at a now insanely hungry but bow more respectful target.

Faith had pulled out and readied her spar sword before the hammer was halfway to Vi and slashed at a particularly ugly vampire carrying a weapon that looked to be a cross between a sword and club. The creature was vampire-fast and brought the weapon down towards Faith's head. She tried to block it and succeeded but the blade was shattered, and the creature was preparing for another blow.

Buffy was screaming when she saw Faith's predicament and preparing to throw the scythe to her when Spike, the bleached vampire with a soul, was jumped by two Turok-Han. One had ripped the amulet from his neck while the other had grabbed the struggling Spike, who in turn was in full game face, slashing his ancient counterpart across the neck with a huge knife trying to decapitate the creature who screamed in agony. The amulet dropped to the ground as the fully vamped-out Spike fought back against both creatures trying to rip him apart.

He was losing.

It was a choice, Faith understood right then and there, a pivotal moment, one that would determine the fate of Earth. If Spike was killed, there was no way for them to stop the creatures from reaching the surface and start the beginning of hell on Earth. But if Faith didn't have a weapon, there was no way she could properly defend herself against her attackers that were as strong or stronger than she was.

There was a moment's connection between both prime Slayers, the decision made. For the sake of all, one would be sacrificed. That was the way it would –should be. Buffy went after Spike's attackers while the First laughed at the irony of a Vampire Sayer saving a vampire while allowing her sister Slayer to die by the hands of a vampire.

"Well done," it had told Buffy while brightly smiling at Faith with Buffy's face.

Faith was fast and getting faster, but the vampire was just as quick. She kicked it, then followed through with two of the most powerful punches she could manage. It grunted from the onslaught but seemed unaffected by the attack as it raised its sword/club once more. She was preparing for one final attack an act of defiance when the creature stiffened and roared loud enough to hurt Faith's ears. It turned to dust, its club-like sword dropping to the floor as a black sword completed its passage through its neck.

The woman, Mortica was standing in front of her holding both swords in a lowered position. Faith could only see the woman's eyes clearly as the rest of the face was obscured in near darkness despite the light in the cave. No, Faith corrected, it wasn't darkness. The woman was cloaked in shadow. There was a difference.

"What are you?" Faith asked. The words tumbled out even as she prepared for more incoming. She couldn't help herself. She had to know. "Are you a Slayer od some kind?"

Mortica merely smiled although it appeared more of a smirk really with a touch of attitude thrown in for good measure, as she handed her one of her swords. Her voice was cool, sensual and remarkably calm. "There are more than just Slayers in the world, child," she purred. "There are other forces, other defenders," and here she seemed to almost roll her eyes. "There are dark forces and other beautiful things that remain hidden until the time is right, and they are needed for one reason or another."

The sword felt cool to the touch and she could feel it trying to resist her motion to take a couple of quick practice swings. It was perfectly balanced but didn't feel right in her hands. It was fighting her.

No, she couldn't use this.

"The wielder must wet it," Mortica told her as she readied her other sword. Seeing what was climbing over the edge. The Addams woman growled, a sound that sent Faith's ears on edge. "Enough!" she said as she slit her dress to her thigh and moved towards her fellow companions with absolute murder in her eyes.

Nearby, one of the men's eyes was glued to the exposed leg and started speaking French.

Faith ignored all of that as she wet the blade with her blood, with a quick flick of her thumb.

It was always about the blood.

Immediately, the coolness of the sword disappeared, replaced by a warming of the entire weapon. Now it felt right. It felt perfectly attuned to her now as it purred, "Faith –dark slayer. A gift by mother…"

"How about that?" Faith said. "A talking sword. I can deal. How good are you?"

"Test me and see," the blade whispered back.

There was a gleam in her eyes now. She would indeed test it. Let Buffy have the scythe, she thought. This weapon was hers for the duration and it was time to use it. she turned to see what was happening with her sister Slayer and was ready to join her. But Vi was closer along with two other Minis, heading straight for Buffy to aid her.

Meanwhile

Buffy flipped to her left, using her scythe to take the head to an incoming vampire as she tried to protect Spike. What she was unprepared for was that the creature had run headlong into the scythe, effecting sacrificing itself so that another of its kind could get a shot at the blond vampire. The blond Slayer knew that the destroyed vampire's action was completely abnormal. These feral creatures would never sacrifice themselves for another of its kind unless it was ordered and forced to. It meant that the First had something to do with it. The First was clearly afraid and was hedging its bet even further. The amulet was critical and the First knew it.

Buffy jumped back. This unexpected tactic, self-sacrifice by the enemy, was not appreciated and she let her displeasure be known as she rammed the weapon into its throat and viciously twisted until the creature's head popped off.

Spike, one of the Scourges of Europe was a master vampire and a survivor, but he couldn't effectively fight against the two matured Turok-Han that had attacked him with a third one coming to assist. Buffy had tried her best to get to him, to help him, but she was being swarmed. Two more of the demons had jumped her attacking with those club-like swords, forcing her to focus her attention on them. One of the creatures slapped her, drawing blood. She returned the favor. However, that exchanged had forced her away from Spike.

Spike had backhanded one of the demons knocking it back a couple of feet but then, he cursed his mistake as the others were on top of him.

As Buffy turned, she saw Spike turn his head towards her and mouthed, "I'm sorry," just as one of the creatures slashed him in half with its sword. The blond creature of the night crumbled into dust.

The First laughed uproariously as Buffy screamed, a primal sound that echoed throughout the cavern. The scream served only to attract another three vampires' attention to her. In a moment she was fighting five of them, scythe blocking, slashing and stabbing as they pressed their numerical advantage. Spike was gone, the plan in ruins, but that couldn't be helped now. The Buffy part of her was demanding, 'no tears, no tears'! The Slayer essence within her and also mourned for a brief moment of the loss of an unlikely ally and then came to the fore. Buffy became Slayer power personified as she laid waste to the three closest of her attackers. The oldest surviving Slayer decimated everything within reach, and it was still not enough. The two surviving attackers matched her while the First laughed with joy.