Enemy Incognito

By Wynn

Chapter Sixteen: The Men in Black

Buffy leapt into the air and flipped over the heads of the eight men surrounding her, landing outside of their closing circle. She turned and aimed a kick at the closest attacker, her boot colliding with his temple, causing him to fall to one knee. Buffy dodged a punch from another man, and she darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the gleaming tip of a third man's sword. She moved backwards a few steps, her eyes flickering between the remaining seven men. Her gaze locked on the one furthest from her, the one who had given the signal to attack. A faint smile curved his lips as his grey eyes met hers.

The door to the Bronze crashed open, ripped from its hinges, and flew across the alley into the smirking leader, knocking him into the hard stone wall. His forehead collided with a jagged edge of stone, and blood streamed down his face. His eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed unconscious onto the ground, the broken door falling on top of him. Spike rushed out of the club, followed closely by Faith, Anya, Dawn, and Clem. Buffy moved next to them as they maneuvered into flanking positions behind her.

The six men scattered, forming a line opposite the Scooby Gang. Two held swords, one clasped a knife, and one grasped a stake. The seventh man staggered to his feet, hand pressed against his temple, and rejoined his fellow assassins.

Buffy glanced at her sister. Voice low, she said, "Dawn. Go. Now. You know where to go. Find Giles."

"No," Dawn said as she stepped closer to Buffy. "I'm not leaving you."

Eyes trained on the seven men before them, Spike said, "Dawn, do what your sister tells you and go. Clem, get her out of here!"

Nodding, Clem grabbed Dawn's hand and pulled her down the alley. The man at the end of the line jumped in front of them, cutting off their escape route, his sword glinting in the moonlight. Clem pushed Dawn behind him and faced the black clad attacker. The man thrust his sword at Clem, barely missing as the floppy skinned demon sidestepped the cold steel; he held his sword in the air and attacked again, twisting as Clem dodged and shoving the long blade deep into Clem's chest.

"NO!" Eyes widening with shock and fear, Dawn watched the assassin remove his sword from Clem, its blade stained dark red with blood. Clem glanced down at his chest, then at Dawn, his face contorted in pain and horror. His knees buckled and he fell onto the hard concrete. The man looked at Clem briefly before stepping over his prone body and moving towards Dawn.

* * *

"Dawn!" Buffy rushed towards Dawn and Clem, but she was flung away from them as the remaining six men charged. She rolled as she crashed against the ground, jumping into a fighting stance as two of the men broke from the group and walked towards her.

* * *

Faith looked from one end of the alley to the other. Anya stood opposite one assassin with a sword, and Spike faced the man with the stake. Two men surrounded Buffy; one stalked Dawn. Faith bounced on the balls of her feet, fists clenching and unclenching, breath coming in rapid, shallow pants as fighting broke out all around her. Her lips curved into a wicked smirk as she stared at the two men circling her, the one on her right holding a curved knife in his hand. She reached down, lifted the hem of her black pants, and grasped the catch of the ankle holster attached to her boot. She slid her knife from its leather casing, twisting it in her hands, watching the light of the night reflect off its smooth surface.

Faith kicked at the man on her left as her arm swung out, her blade driving the assassin with the knife away from her. She spun in a circle, her free arm lashing out in a brutal punch. The first man blocked the blow and sent a kick towards her wrist, attempting to knock the dagger from her hand. Faith darted back a few steps, turning just as the man behind her slashed with his knife. She stabbed, the curved tip of her dagger digging into his forearm, sending a surge of blood down his arm. Moving the blade from his injured right hand to his left, the man threw the knife at Faith. She dove to the side, wincing as the sharp steel sliced into her upper arm. She heard a hoarse cry from behind her as she tumbled to the ground. Springing to her feet, Faith turned and saw the first man lying on the concrete, the knife embedded in his chest.

She stared at the fallen man, mouth open, dark eyes fixed on the rapidly expanding pool of blood beneath him. Images flashed into her mind. Visions of wielding her own knife, of cutting, slicing, and stabbing her victims, of the thrill of violence rushing through her veins. Screams, pain filled howls of anguish, rang in her ears.

Her knife slipped from her hand, unnoticed and unwanted.

Her reflection was broken as she was hit from behind, knocked to the ground from a blow to the back of her head. Faith turned over and found the second man standing above her, his wounded right arm clasped tightly against his chest. She scrambled backwards, attempting to stand as he lashed out with his foot, brutally kicking her ribs. She doubled over, gasping for air, as he aimed another kick at her head. Faith grabbed his foot and yanked, pulling him down to the concrete. She arched her body and wrapped her legs around his neck. She squeezed, the muscles in her legs becoming as hard as steel. He clawed at her legs with his good hand. A few minutes passed before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped against the ground. Faith stared at his prone form for a second, torn between the bloodlust crying within in her to finish him and the horror associated with her deadly sins of the past. She drew in a deep breath and slowly removed her legs from around his neck, watching with tear filled eyes as his chest began to rise and
fall in measured breaths.

* * *

Anya faced the man across from her. He lifted his sword and took a step towards her, forcing her back to the brick wall. Golden brown eyes focused on the shining steel, she bumped against a set of metal garbage cans alongside the alley wall. Her gaze darted to the left and right, looking for any escape route and finding none. The man paused and smiled before he stabbed with his sword, the tip of his blade finding nothing but air as Anya teleported. She reappeared behind him and sent a hard kick to the back of his head. His sword lodged deep within one of the trash containers as he stumbled forward, crashing into the metal cans.

Anya pounced, grabbing the man and lifting him into the air. She twisted and threw him across the alley, smiling slightly as he collided with a dumpster. She grabbed one of the trash cans and flung it towards the man; the metal container smashed into his face, breaking his nose. His fingers gingerly touched his crushed cartilage, mouth tightening as his fingertips came away coated with red. The man fumbled with a dark casing attached to his hip and removed a slim dagger as Anya grasped the handle of the sword and yanked it free.

Weapons in hand, they circled each other in the moonlit alley. He moved towards Anya, dagger high in the air, and she swung with her sword. He danced out of range of the gleaming steel and darted towards her again. She thrust the sword, crying out as his boot smashed into her wrist, knocking her arm to the side. The man spun into her and plunged the dagger into Anya's chest, piercing her heart. Mouth open in shock, she dropped the sword from her hand and stared at gash on her chest. A cruel smile twisted the man's lips as he watched the blood pour from her wound.

Her hand shot out, wrapping around his throat, and she lifted him a few inches off the ground. Eyes bulging, the man watched Anya wrench the dagger from her chest, face pinched in pain, tears streaming down her face. She held the knife between them as she said, "Swords and knives… they don't kill vengeance demons." She turned the dagger in her hand, looking at the stained steel, and then locked eyes with the captive assassin. Anya released her hold on his throat, her hand lashing out as he dropped to the concrete. She watched him grasp for his neck, trying to staunch the blood flow from the wound across his throat. "But they kill humans fine," she said as she moved away from the dying man. She slid down the brick wall, hand pressed against her heart, and released the crimson colored dagger from her grasp.

* * *

Spike watched the man move before him, the stake passing back and forth between his hands. He could see Dawn in his peripheral vision, could see the man with the knife pursuing her; fury flooded his system as her scent, overwhelmed with fear, reached him. He refocused on the assassin, and they circled each other, their movements slow and smooth with the natural grace inherent in predators. Simultaneously, they rushed each other, a flurry of punches, kicks, jabs, elbows. Spike grabbed the stake-holding arm of the man and wrenched it upwards, above their heads, and twisted it violently, attempting to loosen the hold on the wooden weapon. The man kneed Spike in the gut once, twice, two brutal blows that caused Spike to lose his grip on the assassin's wrist. Passing the weapon from one hand to the other, the man brought the stake towards Spike's heart, his speed shocking the blonde vampire. Jumping to the side, Spike grimaced as the stake plunged into his shoulder. He tumbled across the concrete, leaping to his feet and facing the assassin again. Grasping the stake protruding from his shoulder, Spike pulled, stifling his roar of pain with a clenched jaw. Left arm dangling uselessly, he glanced at the glistening column of wood held in his hands, watching as a dark drop of blood fell from the splintered tip, before he threw the stake into the air and onto the roof of the Bronze.

Dodging a punch, Spike lashed out, his boot clad foot connecting with the man's jaw. He followed the kick with an uppercut to the gut, then an elbow to the face. He kicked at the man again, but the blow was blocked and countered. Spike's head snapped back from the force of the jab, blood trickling out of his mouth and down his jaw. The man kicked, his leg arching towards Spike's head, but the vampire with a soul caught the leg and lifted the assassin into the air. With a primal growl of rage, Spike threw him into the cold alley wall, flinching at the sickening crunch of impact between flesh and stone. He swallowed as he watched the man slump against the wall, his faint heartbeat echoing in the vampire's ears. Spike staggered backwards, his hand pressed firmly against the gaping wound in his left shoulder.

His mind was numb with the realization that the chip had never fired.

* * *

Hazel eyes narrowed, fists clenched, and mouth set in a grim line, Buffy looked at the two men approaching her. The one on the right rubbed the side of his head, fingertips gingerly caressing the developing bruise on his temple. His eyes darted between Buffy and the assassin beside him, and his tongue darted out and licked across his lips. He faltered in his approach, body trembling slightly, and focused his gaze on Buffy. He stared at her for a moment before turning and fleeing the alley.

"Your friend has the right idea," Buffy said. "Coming after me and my friends was a mistake."

The man smirked. "He'll soon regret his foolish decision."

"And why is that? I doubt he'll regret skipping out on the ass kicking he would've gotten."

"Our employers don't accept failure. Of any kind."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't feel like dying tonight." Buffy ran towards the man, jumped into the air, and sent a flying kick to his chest. As soon as she landed, she kicked him again, her foot smashing into his nose, then aimed another kick at his stomach. He blocked, grasped her ankle, and pulled her off her feet, tossing her into a pile of cardboard boxes next to the Bronze.

Buffy crawled out from beneath the cardboard, breathless from the impact. She craned her neck and watched the man stalk over to her. As he approached, her leg swooped out, swinging in a low circle and knocking him to the concrete. She jumped on top of him, straddling his chest and pinning his arms to the ground with her legs, and rained punches down on his face and chest. He bucked, struggling to flip Buffy off him, but she held firm, the muscles of her legs squeezing his chest and crushing his ribs. The man twisted beneath her, eventually freeing one hand. He clutched her throat, fingers digging into the already bruised, tender flesh, as shoved the blonde Slayer off of him. Gasping for air and blinking away the tears pooling in her eyes, Buffy stood and turned towards the assassin, slipping into a fighting stance as he picked himself up off the ground.

His faced was a bruised and bloodied mass; one eye was swollen shut and blood poured from a cut above his brow. He charged, his fist lashing out and swinging above Buffy's head as she ducked. She used his momentum to fling him over her shoulder and send him flying through the air. He landed, the back of his head colliding with the unforgiving concrete, and lay motionless, a tangled heap of arms and legs unconscious on the ground.

* * *

Heart pounding in her chest, Dawn slowly backed away from the man, glancing from the stained crimson sword, to the fallen form of Clem, then to the cold, hard eyes of the man advancing on her. She turned and sprinted down the alley, panic screaming through her as she heard him chase after her. His hand grabbed her wrist, his grasp tightening, sending bolts of pain shooting up her arm. She felt the bones of her wrist crack under the pressure and she cried out. He spun her around, forcing her to face him, and brought the sword before her. Her wide blue eyes, brimming with tears, watched the blade dance back and forth in front of her face, a swaying column of burgundy signaling the immanent arrival of her death.

"Say goodnight, girly."

Dawn looked into his eyes, frozen with fear, and gasped as his head twisted viciously to the side, the vertebrae of his neck snapping. The sword fell to the ground as he crumpled onto the concrete. Shaking, Dawn focused on her savior, eyes widening at the sight of Clem. He wobbled, managed to flash Dawn a small smile before staggering a few steps and collapsing again.

"Clem!" She rushed over to him, pressing her hands against the blood flowing from the wound on his chest. She stared into his eyes, watching in horror as his form went slack beneath her blood soaked fingers. "Oh, god! Clem! Answer me! Clem!"

A movement out of the corner of her eyes caused Dawn to look up. A woman with long silver hair kneeled next to Clem and pressed her hand against his forehead. Her large violet eyes flashed, shining brilliantly, briefly illuminating the shadowed alley, and her faced hardened. She looked at Dawn and said, "He's fading. Help me get him inside the Bronze."

Nodding mutely, Dawn helped the woman pull Clem to his feet. She slipped under one of his arms, supporting his weight as the violet eyed woman moved to the other side of him. The two drug Clem across the alley, stumbling as they neared the entrance to the Bronze. A man with slicked back red hair slipped out of the club and hefted Clem onto his shoulders.

"Take him to the back," the woman said. "Grab the supplies… and some Taymon root a-and a bottle of Fesut oil. I'll be there in a moment." She turned towards Dawn as the red haired man disappeared within the Bronze. "Are you alright?"

"Dawn!"

Racing towards Buffy, Dawn flung her arms around her sister, sobbing, half hysterical. "Clem! He-he saved me… but he's h-hurt. Bad."

"Are you Ok? Are you hurt?"

Dawn pulled away from Buffy and held her wrist in the air. "I-I think it's broken. But o-other than that I'm Ok."

Smoothing a hand over Dawn's hair, Buffy said, "I need to check on the others. Stay here. Don't move. I-"

The violet eyed woman stepped next to the Summers sisters. She looked at Buffy and said, "I can take her inside the Bronze, if you wish. My partner took your friend Clem to the back. He's gathering some supplies that may help save him."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Emilia. I own the Bronze."

Staring at the silver haired woman before her, Buffy hesitated. She held onto Dawn's healthy hand, reluctant to release her baby sister into the care of a stranger.

"It's Ok, Buffy. She's a friend."

Turning, she saw Spike standing behind her, right hand pressed against his left shoulder. Her hazel eyes locked with his blue. She lost herself in the sapphire depths, body and soul trembling with relief at the sight of him. She tore her gaze away from his face and focused on the wound, concern furrowing the delicate space between her brows.

"It's not bad. Had worse before. Though that isn't necessarily a good thing, now is it?"

Buffy looked into his eyes, still trembling. She shook her head softly, blinking tears from her eyes, and turned back to Dawn and Emilia. "Stay with Emilia until I come for you, Ok?"

Dawn nodded. She gently removed her hand from Buffy's as she glanced at Spike and said, "You Ok?"

"Yeah. Just a scratch, Bit."

Blue eyes traveling from Spike to Buffy then back again, Dawn drew in a deep breath, the panic and fear that had captured her mind subsiding at the knowledge that her family had survived. She turned and followed Emilia into the crowded club.

"Two attacks in two nights," Buffy said to Spike, body tightening with anger as she surveyed the alley behind the Bronze. "Think they're connected?"

"Don't believe in coincidences much. Demons last night could have been looking for fun, but these blokes here sought us out. Someone wants us dead."

Within a month, the Hellmouth will be ours. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and said, "Someone wants more than that." Her gaze darted to the two approaching figures of Anya and Faith. Buffy's eyes dropped to the wound on Anya's chest; the blood flow from the gash had ceased, leaving a nasty red slash along her chest. Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"It looks worse than it is," Anya said. "I'll be fine in a few hours."

"Good. I need you to get to Giles and tell him what happened. Gather any books that could help us discover what those brown, thorn-y covered demons from last night were, then meet back up at my house."

"Got it. Anything else?"

Hazel eyes flickering to Spike for a moment, Buffy said to Anya, "Yeah. Hang on a sec." She turned towards Faith, frowning slightly. "I'm tired of not being in the know. The leader of the Welcome Wagon's under the door. Can you get him back to my house and into the basement? There are some chains you can use to tie him up."

"Yeah. What about you?" Faith asked.

"Dawn needs to get to the hospital and have her wrist checked out." She glanced at the wound slicing across Faith's arm. "First aid kit is in the bathroom on the first floor."

Nodding, Faith walked away, kicking the broken door off of the still unconscious leader. She bent down and lifted the man, swinging him over her shoulder and heading towards the exit of the alley.

Buffy looked at Spike again and sighed. "Clem is in the back of the Bronze. I don't know how bad he's hurt, and I don't think I'll be able to get Dawn to the hospital unless she knows someone is with him. Can you stay and help Emilia help him?"

"Yeah."

"As soon as you can, get back to the house. Preferably with Clem. I'll need you when I question this assassin guy."

"Right." Head tilted, he stared into Buffy's eyes, his own blue an emotional storm. He raised his arm, fingertips lightly caressing the curve of her cheek and the calloused pad of his thumb brushing across her plush bottom lip. He held the faint embrace for a moment before lowering his hand and silently entering the club.

"What else did you want, Buffy?"

"I want you to tell Giles to stay away from Spike."

Anya arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"He'll understand. I doubt he'll confront Spike now, but just in case… Tonight is not the time for testosterone posturing."

"Did something happen?" Her question met with silence, Anya rolled her eyes and said, "Ok. Didn't want to know anyway."

Anya teleported, vanishing without a sound, leaving Buffy alone in the alley. The six men in black remained on the concrete, some dead, some unconscious, all conspicuous in the dimly lit alley behind the thriving club. She felt a presence beside her; out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Emilia walk up to her.

"Don't worry about them. I'll take care of it."

"How?"

"I doubt you really want to know." Her violet eyes, glowing in the moonlight drifting into the shadowed alley, focused on Buffy. Silence permeated the night as the two women gazed at each other, understanding passing between them. A small smile appeared on Emilia's face. "You should go to Dawn now. She'll need to have her wrist x-rayed."

"Yeah." Buffy sighed again, then walked out of the alley battlefield into the Bronze, leaving Emilia with the mysterious men sent to kill her and her friends.

Answers were going to be found tonight, about the men, about their employers, and about the demons, one way or another.

 

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