(This and he first chapter are updated chapters)
Two hours earlier
This was the first time in Wednesday Addams' living memory that she seen the family being lead to war by her parents and it was as exhilarating as it was disturbing. Sure there had been 'disputes' from time to time, but nothing like this had ever occurred in the family records. Wednesday and her older brother Pugsley followed their parents, Morticia and Gomez, weapons at the ready. Uncle Fester and his crazed wife Dementia were close behind while Grand-mama and Lurch were bringing up the rear.
This adventure started when Grand-mama had gone almost catatonic when the vision had first hit her. "The family is in danger!" she kept screaming. "Evil is making its move!"
That was nothing unusual. Hey, that's what evil did.
The family had almost interfered when the dumb blond god Glory threatened to destroy everything, but Grand-mama had forbid any interference. Things turned out okay and Grand-mama made a wonderful dragon wing soup after uncle Fester and father caught the thing that had come through the dimensional rift.
But the forces of darkness had really overdone it this time. The magnitude of this threat had forced her parents to immediately investigate, and what they saw coming had disgusted them and that was a warning sign both children couldn't possibly ignore. The family usually kept an eye on such activities; however this time, they didn't have a hint of what was happening until it was almost too late. Some powerful force had kept them in the dark and that alone was a cause for concern.
Of course, it was purposely kept from them on the off chance that the family might disagree with the enormous scale of evil's intentions. That was evil's problem. It didn't know when to stop. Sunnydale was about to become ground zero for a major apocalypse. And it wasn't like the others that occurred about once every year for the last few years in that town. In truth the town was so interesting that the Addams' thought of moving there, but the lingering effect of Mayor Wilkins had soured the overall 'flavor' of Sunnydale.
Personally, Wednesday thought the reason that apocalypses happened so consistently had something to do with sun spots and no one would convince her otherwise. She knew was being sarcastic and stubborn, but in her defense, her older brother had been irritating her, and young Pubert was entering his murderous stage so everyone had to be on their toes and therefore, the brat received far too much attention. Because of this, she insisted on being contrary as a way to aggravate the family, letting them know she still existed without resorting to bloodletting. That attitude amazed her forcing her to admit that she was a mature woman of twenty-two now and very much like her mother in looks and attitude. Murderous intent had matured into cold calculation with a twinge of (dare she believe it?) mercy. She began to tolerate things more.
She hated that.
Her little brother reminded her of herself at that young age. His killer instinct was well honed and he remembered the early days when she felt it in her best interests to remove him from the family. Those were fun times even if her little Pubert managed to survive most of her and Pugsley's 'attentions'.
Both Wednesday and her older brother felt the touch of fear and anger emanating from both parents. However the magnitude of the danger facing the family was made crystal clear when her mother hastily pulled out the black-light swords from the forbidden chest. In a house that was a museum, the swords were one of their greatest treasures. There were two pair, each hand-crafted by Aunt Toni-the-Truly-Mad Addams. That woman had spent seven whole nights enchanting the swords before placing them in the chest that was never to be opened unless it was an apocalyptic emergency – like now. Family rumor had said that she had poured her own essence and that of her children into the weapons, which made since sense they had all acted like zombies for the rest of their lives after the ritual. Like they said, she really was mad and sloppy, too. She should have used someone else's life force in Wednesday's opinion.
Her mother had given her the curved pair to use as she saw fit of this special occasion. Dutifully she made a slight slash across her palm drawing blood which she allowed to drip onto the swords. Both of the weapons laughed with joy, she noted as the blood was absorbed into the enchanted silver-impregnated steel.
It was always about the blood. Her mother did the same things with her own and those swords screamed, "Mommy!"
Apparently, the blades were happy to get out and do something. Again, it was typical. Toni-the-Truly Mad's children were crazy, too. She was glad her mother hadn't given her those particular swords instead. She would have been irritated. Better insane laughter than "mommy!" being whispered every few seconds.
It had been exhilarating watching Lurch drive like a lunatic for the entire nine hours it took to get to Sunnydale. In her entire life had ever experience him driving like that. He was always so careful, so considerate.
Not this time.
Wednesday had 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. He had been sent to stay with Cousin Itt and his wife 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 Grand-mama pointing the way. Rarely had Wednesday seen the intensity that her parents were now showing as they headed towards the sounds of battle. Sunnydale High School, looking dark and foreboding now, pleased both siblings, each who privately wished that they had attended this particular school years ago. This was a great school according to all of the family rumors 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.
A concerned Lurch was there to catch her in an instant before she hit the ground.
'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 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'd learned her lessons the hard way about keeping her guard up. By the time she reached the third sand hill, she saw her or rather it sitting cross-legged glaring at her. In its left hand was a huge knife, 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. Certainly Pugsley 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 came to see. You are the last to hear the call."
"I can feel them," Wednesday said. "They answered."
"But only you came. Only two others have come before. What I offer to them, I offer it to you. Not more, but different. Take it."
The Addams girl's eyes narrowed. "No deal is without consequences."
"Yes," confirmed the wind. "Death is your gift."
"What else is new?"
"Now, the line will pass through the dark haired ones. A new line is made. When one is gone the other will endure. This is my other gift."
"To survive. To fight. To win. To endure. To gladly feast on those who would subdue us."
Faster than Wednesday could counter, the Slayer stabbed her in the heart as she wrapped her arms in a savage, crushing embrace. Then she disappeared leaving Wednesday lying prone and struggling to get up from the burning sand. But far from being hurt, she felt renewed and invigorated.
"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 and without the help of the shaman rumored to have created the slayer so long ago. In that instant she knew why. If all of the potentials were called and were lost in the upcoming battle, then there would be no new ones called 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 Slayer was hedging its bet and Wednesday had to agree that it was a good idea. That was something that Wednesday could understand. 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 Grand-mama'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 the blood, so old but completely new. A new line to help the first line, always separate, but now never alone. Blood cousins.
Immediately, her parents had stopped and studied her, somehow noticing the difference. Both of senior Addams's approved of the power boost, especially now although they would investigate as soon as they had the chance.
As for Pugsley, he 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.