Author: mkcrl120
Disclaimer: All the characters mentioned in this story belong to Joss Whedon or Mutant Enemy or some other people. I own nothing and wrote this just to get it out of my system.
Summary: Set two weeks after the events in Explaining Africa 3
Authors Notes: I have no clue about Africa. Which is probably always a good place to start writing a story. So if details I've used for place names, and tribal names and whatever are wrong then just (correctly) assume I have no idea what I'm doing.
Rating: 15 by English standards (mainly for language)
Chapter 13a:
Back in the cave
"The Council..?" Xander asked. "You helped create the Council..?"
"That was not the original intention." Brouhm replied. "But in a way, yes... the groups we did directly create were the forefathers for what you became used to."
There was something about the end of that sentence that Xander picked up on. 'He's... what... embarrassed... frustrated..?'
"Slayers were getting better, more used to their abilities. But it wasn't enough, we were still having the occasional two decades... sometimes longer where the Slayer was effectively alone."
"They got better... you said-" Xander interrupted, "How..? What did you change..?"
"Nothing." Brouhm replied. "We hadn't come up with any solutions when Merkak started to notice it."
"What..?" Xander queried.
"They were just better. More confident. At ease with what they were being asked to do." Brouhm answered. "After much examination of the deceased Slayer's memories, I think I understood why."
"It was their memories." Xander theorised. "The more of them that were doing it, the mor-"
"No." Brouhm interrupted. "It was something else... In the beginning the skills, they could remember doing them, it's just that they had never done them."
Xander nodded to show his understanding.
"But as time went on, it was like they had done them." Brouhm frowned at the explanation, shaking his head as though rethinking it. "It's more like... re-learning something." He paused as though examining something. "Muscle memory. You've heard of that right..?"
Xander's mind immediately flicked back to the term, also mentally noting yet another query as to Brouhm's knowledge of him. "Yeah."
"It was like that... as well as their minds having the memories of their moves, so did their bodies... like the skills and instincts were being hard-wired."
"With things they've never done..?" Xander's voice raised as he asked the question.
"This was a longer slower process than simply downloading the memories of others." Brouhm confessed, "But the more they practised, the better they became... sure, eventually they'd all reach their limits of what their body knew and then struggle on with what their memories told them they could do, but..."
"Slowly, each generation was becoming slightly better than the last." Xander finished for him.
"More or less." Brouhm smiled back. "And that was the first real use we had for those who would walk alongside the Slayer."
"As instructors..?" Xander asked.
"Yes." Brouhm responded. "More like reminders... to make the Slayer perform feats and manoeuvres that would allow them to fulfill their potential."
"Very funny." Xander deadpanned, before querying one of his doubts. "But these helpers... wouldn't they have different skillsets, different fighting methods... hell, different weapons if I've understood this properly."
"Yes. Exactly." Brouhm smiled back. "They were teaching the Slayer to be a lot more varied fighter than we ever could, certainly more so than the original Slayer ever had been... and over time these new skills become hard-wired into new Slayers."
"What's the use if it might only get used once, by one Slayer..?" Xander asked, "Like if one of them learns to be a ninja or something, and then no-one else gets Slayerised while living in ninja-ville or-"
"You're forgetting two people." Brouhm interrupted him. "Merkak and myself. I'd have every memory of every fighting skill that every Slayer had ever received. I analysed those skills and weapons that proved to be reasonably effective."
"Great, you know... not that useful." Xander reminded him.
Brouhm continued like nothing had been said. "And then I could describe to Merkak those we found most useful, and she could concentrate on designing a training routine for the Slayers."
"And what about weapons which we only used in certain regions..?" Xander queried. "How exactly do you go about getting one of them..?"
"Did you forget who Merkak was originally..?" Brouhm teased back. "Normal weapons weren't a problem for her, providing I could accurately describe them."
"You were creating a warrior that could effectively learn every method." Xander hypothesised. "That's why the Slayer's fight with such a mismatch of different styles."
Brouhm nodded, before looking sadly on. "At this point the Watcher's Council was pretty well established. And where their principle job was to remind Slayers of the skills at their disposal, another was to help and to point Slayers toward local threats that needed dealing with."
"Sounds okay." Xander stated, trying not to think how it had been twisted so much since this initial conception.
"But they were having problems with discipline." Brouhm confessed. "It was one of their darkest times, Slayers were fighting for whatever cause they wanted, many offering their services to the highest bidder."
Xander looked on in shock, "What..? Why..?"
'Sure, Buffy's had issues and at times wanted to drop the Slayer gig completely. And Faith...'s situation was complicated.' He thought to himself, 'But generally they've done the right thing. Least the Slayer's I've met have.'
"Their memories..." Brouhm began. "They no longer had their full memories."
"What..?" Xander asked.
"I'm describing this wrong." Brouhm corrected himself. "There were now too many Slayers... too many that had died. They no longer had detailed memories."
Xander just had a confused expression on his face.
"There were simply too many memories for the human brain to cope with... so instead they only got glimpses of fights... visions of monsters... memories of being told what to do... some of being sent places to fight unspeakable nightmarish creatures... even a few of dying." Brouhm informed him. "They had the potential to be the most dangerous warriors on the planet, and had no idea why."
Unknown location
As far as Faith could tell they were approximately five, maybe six miles away from their camp now. This was as far as Tu'ron had ever been at night. Possibly as far as any of them had gone.
During daylight though, she'd been allowed to travel to other camps as part of larger groups. But even then Faith had been disappointed to see anything that resembled civilisation. Least anything that she'd have considered so. The largest population of people that Tu'ron had even heard of numbered only fifteen thousand.
Tu'ron was older now, if Faith had to guess she'd have placed her at around fourteen. Starting to develop nicely and getting some attention off the local males.
More importantly though, at least from Faith's perspective, she was allowed on the hunts. Such as the one they were on now.
Originally, these had mostly been defensive outings. Mainly to ensure the safety of the camp, more than any real attempt to vanquish the local Unseen Threat completely.
Then just over a year ago, Tu'ron had been allowed on her first spotting trip. And everything had changed.
Faith remembered the event with a smile.
Following what seemed to be their standard operating procedure, even though they called it no such thing, the small group she was in was scouting out what appeared to be a group of strangers setting up a small camp for the night.
Nothing particular odd about that in itself, many travellers did so when they needed to rest for the night. The problem for Tu'ron's people was that the Unseen Threat used similar tactics to avoid detection.
Faith sighed at that particular part of the memory, desperately wanting to at least tell Tu'ron that 'Vampires do not need to use fucking tents.' But, as usual, the knowledge she had couldn't be passed on.
What had happened though, was that if Tu'ron could get close enough to a group without detection she could normally detect if any of the Unseen were present. Proved on that single night, by the detecting and decapitating of three of the Unseen.
It was the avoiding detection part that was becoming the problem.
Speculation on how the Unseen could sense people sneaking up on them flew around the camp. Most of which Faith tried her best to ignore when Tu'ron stubbornly refused to acknowledge her presence and listen to her suggestions.
Faith shook herself out of their shared memories, they were approaching a camp. And soon Tu'ron would be called to action.
She watched as Tu'ron was instructed to join with two of Bee'ka's brothers. All three of them moving as silently as they could in the direction of the stranger's tent.
'Pretty stealth.' Faith admired their attempts.
Stopping further away than normal and surprising the two Braka, Tu'ron quickly dropped to the sandy ground. "We're no-" One of them began, that Faith recognised as Fy'vaar.
"They're here." Tu'ron whispered back quietly through gritted teeth. Turning around she waved in the direction of the others. The group behind them consisted of twenty warriors, ranging in ages similar to Tur'on's up to those who looked maybe thirty years older.
Ga'nav was with them, as was Dig'na. Dig'na was the official leader of this outing, but everyone knew that it was Ga'nav who had final say.
Dig'na was being prepped for leadership. Within the next ten years, Dig'na would probably take over from D'gan as the camp's leader. If he survived that long, D'gan would join their elders.
As Tu'ron waved the symbol of the Unseen with her arm, the others approached.
Ga'nav was the first to spot how far away they were.
"You sure..?" He questioned.
'Of course we're fucking sure!' Faith wanted to respond.
However Tu'ron settled for, "It's strong."
Dig'na nodded his agreement. Signalling to the rest of the group, they all drew weapons and readied themselves for the attack.
Tu'ron moved to the back, standing alongside her assigned protectors. Faith had to hold back a groan at that, desperate to be where she belonged, but that was no longer an option in her current form.
Then they were all running, and Tu'ron was breathing hard as they drew nearer to the Threat, reminding Faith exactly why she no longer led from the front.
As they approached, the tent suddenly burst open, nine creatures heading their way. Their twisted visage already in place.
Dig'na and Ga'nav were the first to greet their opponents, Ga'nav fighting alone, Dig'na immediately backed by two other humans; from her vantage point Faith couldn't quite make out what was happening but was relieved when she saw them both moving onto other vampires.
Glancing to her side, she could see Fy'vaar greet one of the vampires one-on-one.
To Tu'ron this just appeared to be a mass of bodies with weapons flying everywhere. Never before had they met such a large group of the Unseen. The sheer number of which had unfortunately resulted in Tu'ron's bodyguards having to join in the fight.
With a mere instruction tossed her way, "Stay back."
Faith on the other hand was getting frustrated, 'Concentrate on the fucking battle... don't stare at Dig'na, shit girl this is seriously not the... Fucking duck now.'
She was relieved when the vampire's swipe missed, Tu'ron having dropped to the ground and now in the process of backpedalling on all fours away from the creature.
'Keep your eyes on it, rely on your Slayer sens-' Faith instructed, wishing she could take control as Tu'ron proceeded to check behind her to make sure she wasn't heading into other trouble.
Glancing back, both Tu'ron and Faith let out a gasp when the Unseen Threat was almost upon them. Tu'ron instinctively screamed, Faith was about the complain about the girly tactic when Fy'vaar was suddenly above them tackling their attacker.
Giving a quick glance behind to ensure that Fy'vaar previous opponent was dust, they turned around to see Fy'vaar and the vampire locked in battle.
Faith noticed that this time, he didn't seem to be doing as well. 'He's not recovered yet.' She wanted to shout for help, Tu'ron apparently had the same idea, but when they turned to look at the main part of the group they noticed that there was still four vampires fighting, and with six of the own number down they both quickly summised that help wasn't likely to come anytime soon.
Faith sighed watching as Fy'vaar dropped to one knee, attempting to physically resist the vampire's attempts to overpower it.
And then it happened, Faith found herself in a mixture of relief and shock as Tu'ron grasped her knife tightly in her hand and then charged the creature.
Landing on it's back, Tu'ron attempted to slice it's neck open with the knife. Damage was done, but Faith quickly realised that Tu'ron was in no way strong enough to achieve such a feat with the weapon available to her. Unfortunately, Tu'ron hadn't come to the same conclusion and was continuing to try.
Faith rattled off as many unheard suggestions as she could, when they both suddenly found themselves thrown off of the creature and flying through the air.
Luckily some of Tu'ron's training did come into play, and Faith grinned as the girl twisted her body, landing in a roll that brought her upright. Facing the creature and still clutching firmly at her weapon.
The creature smiled, but Tu'ron refused to flinch. Faith found herself smiling as she spotted Fy'vaar stand up behind the beast.
Making sure the attention was firmly on herself, Tu'ron kept darting in slashing her blade through the air as she did so. Faith kept offering words of both encouragement and warning. 'Don't stop... if it grabs you, you're dead... keep the knife moving at all times and pray that the fucker doesn't catch on that you can't kill it with this.'
The knife was a blur as it tried to cover as much of the space between them that it could. Tu'ron glimpsed for a fraction of a second, to where Fy'vaar had obtained a fallen axe and seemed to be judging the safest time to rejoin the fight.
Tu'ron took three further swipes with the knife, doing nothing but minor damage to the vampire's arms, then threw it directly into the creature's face.
'Direct fucking hit.' Faith wanted to scream, incredibly proud of the young warrior she'd somehow been partnered too.
"Now!!" Tu'ron screamed, dropping automatically to the floor again.
The vampire reached up to pull the knife out of it's face. Just as it's hand closed around the handle, an axe swept effortlessly through the air, slicing it's head from it's body.
Tu'ron watched from her position on the floor, eyes wide as the monster's head fell off, it's arm following the head down to the ground as it still clasped the knife handle.
Then the creature dissolved into dust and Fy'vaar walked through it's scattering remains, offering a hand out to Tu'ron.
Taking it, Tu'ron was pulled to her feet. "Well done." Came the simple words from Fy'vaar.
Tu'ron smiled shyly up at him, casually accepting a spare knife he passed to her.
Faith however wasn't quite as subdued. 'That's what I call mother-fucking teamwork!'
Then they faced the remains of the battle. Only one more of their group had fallen, but the Threat were down to two members. They nodded at one another, then both moved forward at the same time to see if they could help. With either the remaining combatants or the injured.
End chapter 13a