6

Chapter Three

Sunnydale, California

It was exhilarating watching Lurch drive like some glorious lunatic for the entire three and a half hours it took to get to Sunnydale. Never in Wednesday's entire life had she ever experienced him driving like that. Normally, he was so careful and considerate (boring) as his devotion to the family and its safety was absolute.

Not this time.

Wednesday assumed that people were getting out of the way because they sensed the urgency of their vehicle bearing down on them. Few people wanted to wind up being road kill, but Old Lurch never seemed to have penchant for running people over no matter how tempting or deserving. And except for Pubert, who was really too young and reckless for an undertaking such as this, the whole immediate family had come. The youngest member of the family had been sent to stay with Cousin Itt and his wife to stay until this was over. Again, it was another indication of how bad things were.

When they reached Sunnydale, her mother and father were literally jumping out of the car, heading for the battle with Grandmama pointing the way. Rarely had Wednesday felt such intensity emanating from her parents as it was now. Their intensity only focused as they headed towards the sounds of battle.

Sunnydale High School, looking dark and foreboding. Both siblings were pleased by the 'feel' of this school.

"Why couldn't our school have felt like this when we were growing up?" yelled Pugsley as they rushed through a side door that suddenly appeared curtesy of grandmama. The old witch rarely used her powers like this but when she did…

"Yes," agreed his sister. "High school would have been worth it."

There was little doubt that this was their kind of school. According to the family rumors, both brother and sister would have excelled here. Oh, the mayhem they could have done here and not get caught! But Mama and Papa had always forbade it, something about the mayor of the town being unstable.

Both she and Pugsley were following closely, weapons in hand when it happened. It was then that Wednesday did something she'd never done before–purposely, that is.

She swooned.

A concerned Lurch was there to catch her in an instant before she hit the ground. Every member of the family stopped instantly watching over their little Wednesday while also watching for enemies. The could feel the unidentified power swirling around her.

"Let her be," Grandmama screech. "Her time has come."

'Are you ready to be strong?' a force asked Wednesday.

'I'm already strong,' she answered indifferently. 'A little more can't hurt. But it will be on my terms. I don't do control.'

Whatever the force was seemed pleased at her answer.

And, everything shifted…

She suddenly found herself alone in a desert. It was desolate, offering no vegetation that she could see, and she found herself wandering around, searching the horizon for something that she could not see, but could sense was there, tracking her just as she was tracking it. Her dark clothes soaked up the sun and within moments she found herself shedding some of them using them to cover her head. She was fair-skinned, and the sun was irritating her, and Wednesday didn't like too much sun at the best of times. She was on edge now, waiting for some sort of attack, but none came, which set her more on edge. From her experience the worst attacks came when there was nothing around to attack you. Pugsley was a master at hide, seek and attack when they were younger, and she learned her lessons the hard way about keeping her guard up. By the time she reached the third sandhill, she saw her or rather it, sitting cross-legged glaring at her. In its left hand was a huge knife carved from bone, and in its right a wooden stake sharpened to perfection. Cautiously, Wednesday stopped and waited. The creature appeared to be a wild girl, younger, maybe about fourteen or fifteen at most, clothed in animal skins and adored with paint; runes if she interpreted them correctly. There was something about her that appealed to Wednesday. Pugsley certainly would have liked her. This was his kind of woman.

'Who are you?' she asked, ready to fight the creature if necessary.

'Slayer' whispered the Wind. 'Of all of my daughters asked, only you and two others ever came to see. You are the last to hear the call.'

'I can feel them,' Wednesday said while watching the savage closely for signs of aggressive action. Whoever this was didn't, or perhaps couldn't use words as such. What she was hearing were impressions used as a form of communication. She could deal with that. 'They answered before you came.'

'But only you came. Only two others have come before. You are strong. What I offer to all my daughters, I offer it to you. Take it.'

'he Addams girl's eyes narrowed. 'No deal is without consequences.'

'Yes,' confirmed the wind. 'Death is your gift.'

'What else is new?' Wednesday responded dryly.

The Wind felt satisfied. 'Now the line will pass through the dark-haired one. A new line is made. When one is gone the other will endure. This is also my gift.'

'Why?'

The Wind paused for a moment to consider its answer. Then it spoke to the young Addams woman. 'To survive. To fight. To win. To endure. To gladly destroy those who would dare to subdue us. Descendants I have two First daughters. I now have three.'

She wasn't sure what those words meant but it didn't matter. She understood it at its core. "I accept."

Faster than Wednesday could counter, the Primal Slayer stabbed her in the heart with the bone knife. The Addams woman hadn't even seen her move. The First Slayer wrapped her arms around Wednesday in a savage, crushing embrace. Then warrior disappeared leaving Wednesday lying prone and struggling to get up from the burning sand. But far from being hurt, she felt renewed and invigorated as power flowed into her very essence. It was then and there that everything changed.

"Not just pretty words," whispered Wednesday as she understood what was happening now.

The Slayer spirit, using every bit of her power, had created something new on her own without the help of the shaman rumored to have created the slayer so long ago. In that instant, Wednesday knew why.

If all of the potentials were called and were lost in the upcoming battle, then there would be no new ones called in that line until they were born. That child would have to reach the proper age before then being called–if there were anyone left to help her to grow up. If a second line was begun, then a whole new set of potentials would be created separate from the first line. The Primal Slayer was hedging her bet and Wednesday had to agree that it was a good idea. That was something that Wednesday could understand.

The Slayer spirit was hedging its bet, using Willow's original spell to power its own. A new slayer line was created, one designed to complement the other. Both independent of one another yet never separated. Rivals. Sisters. Separate but never alone. Two lines now, but still one blood.

Family. Even if they occasionally tried to kill each other.

She was an Addams–they endured. "Until the end," she growled, matching the voice in the wind.

The force seemed to approve of her decision. Power flooded into her. Strength, energy, improved senses and reflexes. It was like one of Grandmama's potions, but permanent, more intense, rawer.

The Slayer essence filled her, the same as the others, but different than all of the rest except for one. There were three sister slayers now, two blood and now one of blood, so old but completely new. A sister line to help the sister line, always separate, but now never alone. Blood cousins. Never second, but a First with the First.

Family.

Her parents instantly noticed the difference as Wednesday stood up. All traces of her previous weakness had disappeared. Both of the senior Addams's approved of the power boost they felt coming from her, especially now although they would thoroughly investigate as soon as they had the chance.

Pugsley snorted. She'd be insufferable for a while and he'd have to think up new ways to aggravate his beloved sister without getting accidentally killed. They were getting too old for their games but still, sometimes they needed to be kids; after all, uncle Fester and daddy still had their fun.

In a surreal place like this, this was well, surreal thought Xander.

Xander beheaded yet another prehistoric vampire who even in dusting was screaming its defiance at him, while reaching for his throat. The few Bringers that made it passed the Scoobies were rapidly diminishing in numbers as he, the slayers, and those weird people cut them down. That there were only a few of them that had made it into the cave in the first place had to be attributed to Giles and the others outside the breach, which is where he should have been, helping them fight. He wanted to help but he was outclassed fighting super vampires. The fact that he was still alive was a testament to pure luck and his slayer girls, not his skill.

Or, was it?

Case in point. He felt the pure hatred and anger of the vampire he had been dueling with at being killed by meat. How Xander could feel this, he wasn't sure, but he knew in his heart that it was true. It was probably what he saw of the body language of the creature trying to kill him. What had been equally perplexing though was been how he had managed to survive this long against what were essentially uber-vampires, beasts that frightened modern vampires, and most likely fed on them as well. Was he somehow being protected?

Those thoughts were pushed aside when a voice brought him back to the present.

"Not bad," the man called Gomez Addams said. "These things are good for getting the old heart pumping, aren't they?" he continued. "Did you know they can track you by echo location?"

Great, but not surprising, as he thought about it.

Xander had come to a fast, dirty conclusion as he stole glances at the man called Gomez Addams battle his combatants. The broadly smiling man was a master swordsman. Every cut, every slice, every thrust and parry were performed with the greatest of efficiency. There was no wasted effort at all as far as he could see. The man's style reminded him of a dance in the exact same way as a Tai-Chi exercise reminded him of a flamingo exercise routine. Most people forgot that it was also a martial art. Xander hadn't and as much as he was interested in learning about the man who saved him from unintentionally falling off into the abyss was, the other two people engaging the vampires with him were equally as effective and as dangerous. He needed to know more about these people that dropped in from nowhere. For now, they were allies and much needed ones.

The bald-headed man using an absolutely beautiful two headed axe with such seeming abandon that Xander didn't want to be anywhere near him as he was swinging it, was also an excellent fighter. The other person with the two men was a double hatchet-wielding woman, also bald-headed for some reason but she sported a long brunette-colored pony-tail that reached down to her mid back. She was fighting alongside her counterpart. Her constant screaming, mixed with hysterical laughter confirmed to the young man that the woman had lost her sanity a long, long ago.

But, as wild as the hulking man and crazy woman were, neither never came close enough to Gomez to present a danger to him even when they were right inside of each other's space and because of that reasoning, Xander did something stupid.

He jumped into the middle of the three of the strangers and started fighting alongside them closing gaps as needed. These strange people were fighting against the darkness and while they may not be friends, they weren't the enemy as far as he could tell at the moment.

The bald-headed man hacked a Turok-Han in half just as he said in an all too cheerful voice, "my name's Fester. It means 'to rot'," he smirked. "I like your little axe!"

Little? Well, compared to that monster he was using, it was in fact somewhat little. "Err-thank you."

Never taking his eyes off his newest opponent he continued introductions as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "That cute little screaming thing over there is my wife, Dementia."

"It means 'insanity'," the woman murmured at Xander in a way that made the hairs on his back stand up while gutting one of the vampires before taking its head thereby dusting it. Their axes had to be mystic weapons.

Husband and wife.

Rotting Insanity. Why did that sound so, so natural and normal?

"And young fellow, who might you be?" Dementia asked in a way that suggested that if she didn't like the answer, then she would go after him with the same intensity as she had attacked the vampires.

"I'm Xander," he said while getting some of his wind back. "Glad to have you here, I think."

"Of course you are."

So, Buffy and Angel, Buffy and Spike: they're like normal compared to these people, speaking of which…

"Just who are you people?" Xander yelled.