Friendemies

Chapter SIX

"Fester!" yelled Gomez. "It's time!"

Uncle Fester nodded while his wife hissed in pleasure next to him. She knew what her husband intended to do, and it delighted her to no end.

'Oh, this wasn't good,' thought Xander. The look on the stranger's faces didn't inspire confidence. No, it inspired sheer terror.

"Fire in the hole!" Dementia delightfully screamed while Fester and the young man with him, threw several large packages over the cliff's edge.

"C4X-34," Fester had said while the packages were still in the air. "My own special blend," he proudly added. "Took me years to perfect it–and a lot of redecorating. Always wanted to use in the wild."

Xander hadn't understood what he meant until he processed the word 'C4'. The next instant he was diving towards the floor. The words 'special blend' came into sharp focus. That realization was immediately followed by a near hysterical scream of. "holy crap!" The soldier part of Xander realized exactly what Fester and the young man were throwing over the cliff. "Some warning could have been nice!"

A huge package removed from who-knows-where went flying over the cliff. It was followed by another, identical package thrown by Gomez's son. Both packages hadn't begun their descent when the first one blew. The explosion blinded Xander for a moment. Xander barely heard the smaller bombs detonate because of the much larger detonation drowning out the sounds of everything else.

The second large explosion produced the same humungous result.

Gomez smiled wistfully and somewhat apologetically. "Should have told you to close your eyes. Sorry about that."

An instant later he and his family, followed by the slayers, were tearing into the blinded vampires, their death dust becoming an almost choking fog. Below the cliff, another dust cloud flowed upwards like a thick haze. It was immediately followed by a collective roar from the bowels of the cavern that proved that all hell had broken loose as fury and rage replaced raw hunger.

The twelve surviving slayers, the Addams matriarch, the men, and the crazy lady, were the first to get a breather. There was a quick sigh of relief as Buffy, Wednesday, Faith and the Mortica, who gave off all kinds of strange vibes, stood their ground allowing the others time to head towards the entrance to the school.

The reprieve was brief.

Xander, supporting two wounded slayers unable to continue fighting, helped them through the entrance to the high school. But Xander stopped when he saw the young man whose name, he couldn't for the moment remember, hadn't moved but had instead pulled out two huge Magnum handguns and pointed towards the dust-filled edge of the cliff. The young man, about Xander's age, nodded at him to move out of the line of fire.

"Don't worry," he told Xander. "I'm not getting myself killed, not now. I'm the gatekeeper for the time being."

Pugsley smirked as Xander turned and headed for the middle of the high school and prepared to pick up the fight against the Bringers. The Bringers were still fighting, and he did not know if any of his friends were still alive in his absence. He hadn't planned to be in the cave, but war was like that, he grimly thought. Stopping quickly, he glanced at Pugsley as he started shooting.

XXX

Two injured Turok-Han climbed over the cliff, and both were promptly converted into dust. Pugsley stood his ground, his face a study of a mask that would do Wednesday proud. Silver coated bullets to the head had all but decapitated each of them.

BAM!

Another ceased to exist.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

The sounds of the reports echoed through the cavern. Four more vampires were destroyed. Seven more died in the next few seconds as tactically supported the Slayers. The specialized bullets were devastating at close range. Pugsley stepped back, reloading in a matter of seconds. Twelve more died before he backed through the only opening that would allow the creatures their freedom.

"Nice," Xander said from behind him.

"Thanks," Pugsley responded. "My name's Pugsley, since I know you forgot. Fog of wat," he said, never taking his eyes off of his targets.

"Er, sorry about that."

"It's okay."

BAM! BAM!

"Nice guns, Magically enhanced?"

"Yep. Grand Mama's. Nice, though I prefer the Wildcat for this type of work. But these will do."

"I heard that," Xander said as the powerfully built man moved forward, still shooting with deadly accuracy.

"Head shots," he explained. "Hate to waste bullets," he explained. "I have a couple of spares, if you're interested."

"I'll take one and some ammo," Xander said without hesitation. "Okay. This will be fun. Let's see who can kill the most in the next five minutes."

"You're on," Xander answered, getting into the mood.

Willow's hair had changed back from a blinding white to its natural red color. Her power spent, her body exhausted, she slumped to the floor, not quite fainting. New potentials everywhere were activated. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew the exact number, but she was too tired to worry about how many there were and what the consequences of their actions would be for the future.

Honestly, she had no idea what to expect when she used the sacred Slayer weapon to activate all potential slayers. At best it was a 'hail Marry' play and at worst it could have killed every single potential in the world. But obviously it was a success. However, something else happened, something completely unexpected.

Willow Rosenberg felt it and it hurt! It felt like giving birth (whatever that felt like) and something new, foreign yet completely familiar had entered the world.

A new kind of Slayer was born, one connected to all the others but yet separated. It was like a First Slayer but also like a true sister, connected to Senya but individual. Whoever this slayer was, she was born after the other potentials were activated. That person was something new, but yet the same.

Yes, the ritual, changing all potential into slayers, worked. But it might have been an ultimately useless gesture. Kennedy was gone! All the hurt and anger that should have been there wasn't, not yet. But this wasn't like Tara's death. That was murder. This was war, and the knowledge of the difference between the two was telling.

Willow would grieve later because there were bigger problems they had to deal with. Spike was killed before the amulet activated fully and did its work. She felt it as he ceased to exist. Her heart sank and her anger and despair grew. There was no way to close the doorway now. And she knew that Buffy had to be as devastated as she was about Kennedy.

The fighting had begun to spill into the halls of the school now. The clashing of swords rang far too close for comfort. Giles, Andrew, Dawn, Anya, and the others were fighting, prepared to sacrifice their lives to hold the choke points, keeping the proto-vampires from reaching the outdoors and freedom.

So many Bringers!

The blind servants of the First were overrunning the building's defenders, trying to flank the Slayers. Once the Slayers were dead, then they would willingly sacrifice themselves to the Turok-Han for the glory of the First Evil.

That was sick!

Panicking, a shaky Willow grabbed her sword and clashed with a Bringer trying to gut her. There was no way she could defend herself with that weapon. Instinctively she raised her hand and power smashed the Bringer into the wall. Its companion came running towards her, with its sword, intending to remove her head from her body.

Exhausted, Willow waited for death. She expected that the very last sound she'd hear wound be the sound of flesh and bone being separated from her.

Instead, instead she heard the sound of metal against metal. She opened her eyes to see a huge mace practically dissolve the head of the Bringer about to decapitate her.

Another Bringer ran towards her waving a huge axe. The blind killer suddenly stopped, turned around as if trying to see what was happening when it suddenly started screaming as it burst into flames. The stench was unbelievable, but only lasted a second as the corpse incinerated into powder. It took a second for her to realize that the flame was a cold fire.

"Up and at them, baby witch," an old crackly voice with far too much jovialness in it ordered. "No sleeping or giving up now. Too much to do!"

Yet another Bringer screamed and died as magical fire consumed him.

Willow spared a quick glance and saw what appeared to be an old hag throwing some kind of powder at the Bringers with one hand while mystical energy shot out from the other. The stranger looked so old that Willow was surprised she could walk by herself, let alone fight. But the old woman was literally dancing around the Bringers, killing them left and right, giving her a much-needed respite.

And she wasn't alone. There was a huge man in a tuxedo carrying an axe in each hand, and a huge mace on his hip, swing away at Bringers who considered him the greater threat. He looked like a cross between Frankenstein's monster and a zombie. He had dispatched four of the attackers before Willow could blink.

"Hello," the huge man-like creature rumbled as it lifted a shocked Willow to her feet. How could something so frightening look so dignified and respectful!?

"The Addams family!" Anya screamed in awe and obvious fear before Willow could ask the question. The way she yelled the very name screamed 'dark'!

Willow couldn't help herself as she blurted out to her savior, "Are you evil?"

The old woman laughed out loud. "Do you think I'm dark and you're not? Judge yourself first, deary, then ask yourself who's really dark." The woman's eyes glow as she began what had to be a very dark incantation. "It's alright, dear. Just control it instead of letting it control you!"

"I am not dark!" Willow yelled as she pulled her weapon into a defensive position to strike out against another Bringer.

"Don't let your little white spell fool you. Your soul is as black as they come when you want to be." The old woman took a moment to analyze the red-head. Almost smiling, but not quite, she said, "you might be a Frump for all I know. You certainly have the power."

"I am not evil!" she insisted.

"You are evil. You just pretend to be innocent so that you can justify your actions. I've watched you. I know. Stop pretending that you're all innocent. Fight the darkness in you, if choose to. Control it. Don't let it control you! That's what being a Frump is."

Willow dodged an attack and struck the Bringer in the gut with her sword. She didn't even know how she did it as she yelled in near hysterics, "what's a Frump?"

"Why, it's family," came the response from the grimly smiling old hag. "Probably on your father's side."

Andrew Wells, super nerd, above average genius, and well versed about the Hellmouth that was his home, was scared out of his mind. He never in his life imagined that he would be fighting for his life in high school… again!

He was right by the side of the Slayer, well both Slayers, well quite a few Slayers now. And that wasn't exactly true, not at the moment. The Slayers were fighting in the 'cave of ultimate darkness', which is what he called it. They were fighting super vampires. Here he and his group were merely fighting blind, insane minions of the First Evil. Compared to the vampires, they were very easy to kill, which wasn't saying much.

The good thing was that they couldn't see, although that didn't slow them down in the least. And they were just a little stronger than normal humans, which gave him the opportunity to stay alive a little longer. He was fighting the Bringers for about twenty minutes now, which was absolutely exhausting, and surprised that he was still able to fight. But his adrenaline was flowing, the fear of death was growing by the moment, and his body was telling him that tiredness was a figment of his imagination.

Swing that sword! live!

Andrew wasn't the strongest person around, not by a long shot. Mr. Giles was stronger than he, and he was an old man!

Anya was a lot stronger than he was, but she was an ex-demon turned human and doing a very admirable job.

Robin Wood was fighting two at a time and seemed to be doing quite well, even though he was wounded.

Andrew hadn't thought about it, but that brought everything into crystal clarity for him. The man was bleeding, and he was still fighting than the fact that he was still fighting gave Andrew a bit encouraged. But Andrew thanked all of those hours, days, and weeks that he watched those Star Wars shows and the Zorro movies and old series. He always imagined that he would be an excellent sword fighter, and he used to play-practicing with a lot of his friends when he was younger. When he was older, he did it in secret, preventing friends from laughing at him for being what he was, a nerd. He didn't care, however, because he loved it. Now it appeared that all those times where he imagined being a Jedi, or the masked swordsman, Zorro paid off.

The young man had absolutely no training whatsoever, and here he was using every memory that he could think of trying to stay alive fighting against demon like humans who try to kill him with large sorts and in some cases axes.

Here he was, feinting, jabbing, stabbing, and most of all dodging, having the time of his life knowing that any second, he would die and discover if there really was an afterlife for someone such as he.

His situational awareness wasn't the greatest, but not surprisingly, it was rapidly improving. Basically, he was focused on what was in front of him and praying to some high power to keep him from being killed in the next five minutes or less. So, he never even noticed the seven-foot three man-thing in a tuxedo no less, coming up behind him and protecting his back.

When he saw Lurch, he did what anybody would naturally do. He screamed.… Like a girl, not like the Slayers, but like a regular girl. It was unmanly, but it was real. Therefore, he was indifferent as to how it sounded.

Lurch merely rumbled, "Ummuh," while swinging his weapon, usually over the head of absolutely terrified Andrew. But once he got used to the giant standing over him a few seconds later, saving his life constantly, he got used to it. And he even began to appreciate it.

Lurch's presence gave him breathing room, and he wanted to ask a couple questions, but he really didn't have the time and opportunity because things were still trying to kill him.

That's when he heard Anya scream, "the Addams family!"

To Andrew's ears, Anya sounded terrified, and that sent a shiver down his spine. Having a shiver run up and down his spine was impressive considering the fact that Bringers were trying to kill him, and he was already shivering from that little fact. The way that she yelled the name reeked of danger and horror. The adapted scobby flushed with terror as more Bringers crowding into the corridor attempting to kill them all. What also caught his attention was Willow all but screaming, "I am not dark!" To which he almost screamed, "yes you are, but only from a certain point of view!"

Wisely, he didn't say anything out loud. A lot of people consider him a dark techno wizard. So who was he to judge her, even if she did flay one of his best friends alive and tried ending the world because she was hurting? However, that was in the past…That was what everyone kept telling him.

The old hag next to her who moved nothing like an old hag and looked the very definition of the stereotypical witch.

He could feel her power and dared not to think negative thoughts about her. He knew she had the power to turn him into a frog anytime she wanted without half trying. A couple of seconds later a burst of near-invisible energy shot from her hands and the Bringer she was engaging burst into flames, thereby proving his suspicions and fears.

However, she was fighting on their side, so he took it in stride. Reasoning that if he kept his mouth shut, and if they lived, the old lady might not turn him into something-slimy. Dismissing that thought, his heart sank when suddenly the corridor was crowded with more of the First's servants.

TBC