A snowy white owl lands on the author’s shoulder clutching a glowing red envelope. Paling the author shakily takes the item from the owl that wisely fly’s back out the foolishly open door. The letter then begins to shout in a voice that has the author scared that the computer screen will crack.
“TEXASWOOKIE! HOW DARE YOU FORGET TO PUT A DISCLAIMER ON THE LAST CHAPTER OF YOUR STORY AND MAKING PEOPLE THINK THAT YOU OWN THESE CHARACTERS! NOW APOLOGIZE IMMEDITLY AND TELL THE TRUTH!”
“Yes ma’m.” The author says, and mutters a quick apologies. “Sorry.” Then says what he should have said at the top of the last chap.
“I Don’t own a single character in this story they belong to various people and I’m not sure who they all belong to except that Buffy belongs to Joss, the various other characters belong to J.K Rowling, Warner brothers, DC comics, MGM, and Marvel Comics. “
“Did I forget any?” the Author says sarcastically, as he hurriedly shuts the door before an answer can come.
AN 1: This is the original Dukes merged with some elements of the movie. Because I’m more familiar with that style and it gives me more developed characters to play with.
AN 2: This has spoilers for HBP and any other HP chaps are likely to as well so if you haven’t read the book now would be a good time.
“Sheppard to lost sheep. Sheppard to lost sheep. You boys got yer ears on?” Jesse Duke, or better known to the small town community that he lived in, Uncle Jesse, sat in his white pickup truck, reading a letter that had come while he was out in the fields.
“This is Lost Sheep. Come on back Sheppard.”
“Luke, I want you boys to get yourselves home as fast as possible. We got something to talk about. Daisy’s already on her way with Cooter.”
“Is that with, or without, Roscoe on our tail?”
The older man let a small smile pull at the side of his face. “Without boys, and be careful.”
“You got it, Sheppard. We’ll just dump Roscoe and Cletus in the pond, then be right over.” The voice clicked off.
Jesse fixed up some various foods and left a message with an old friend to call them, as soon as he could. Smiling, the old man worked some kinks out of his shoulders; his long hair was hanging in two braids. He had just finished laying out the rest of the lemonade, when three different vehicles pulled in next to his truck. A white jeep, painted with Dixie emblem on it, held the pride and future of the Duke clan, Daisy. An old, beaten up, but well running tow truck, held the trouble seeking Cooter Davenport. Jesse shook his head; sometimes he wondered why the family dealt with that scallywag. The last car to pull up was a bright orange stock car with a confederate flag painted on the roof, the words ‘General Lee’ painted near the drivers side window, and the number one on either side. It was holding the two nephews of his, who attracted trouble no matter where they went, or what they were doing. And that car, that was supposedly the car that they used when they got in trouble, was something they used almost daily.
“Hey Uncle Jesse,” they all said as they sat down at the kitchen table to hear what ever it was that the old man had to say. The old man’s word was law with this group, since he had either raised them, in the case of the Duke cousins, or nearly raised, in Cooter’s case.
“All right y’all, gather round. I only want to have to do all this once. So you two,” he said, pointing at Bo and Cooter, “better listen real good, or I will personally lick you all the way to Nashville. You got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Luke answered for all of them, his brown eyes and brown hair standing in odd contrast to his cousin Bo, who was blonde with blue eyes.
“Well, we need to make a decision, and Cooter here might have an idea or two; so I thought that I would let him listen to what it is that we have going on. Besides, one of you three would have told him anyways. Luke,” Jesse said as he passed the letter to his nephew, who read the letter out loud to the rest of his family.
Dear Georgia Relatives,
Hi! My name is Buffy Anne Summers. It seems that in some weird and wacky way, that we’re related to each other. It used to be that I let my mom do all the Christmas card lists, but she’s not around to do that sort of thing anymore. So with out further ado, here we go.
A weird thing, even for me, has happened in my life. It seems that I have been named the leader of an army of girls, to deal with an army rising out of something called the Boca del Infierno, or in simpler words for those of you whose Spanish isn’t what it should be, the mouth of Hell. We just call it the Hellmouth. I know a lot of you are probably reaching for the telephone right now and are seriously considering calling the men in white jackets to come and cart me away to some sort of padded cell, but trust me when I tell you that I am not crazy. I am one of the few people that stands between the world ending and keeping it spinning in its usual round way. I am the person that the unimaginable monsters fear. I am the Slayer.
Behind this little letter are some of the adventures that my friends and I have been on. Use this information carefully, and you may survive the coming darkness that is on the way. I have sent copies of these stories to other family members as well. Just know that I’ll do my best, but this may be the one where I can’t stop the bad guy from doing his thing. And if it is, then the world needs to have some pocket defenses to fight the things that will be coming if I fail.
Your cousin, Buffy Anne Summers.
Luke looked up at Jesse. “Is this for real, Uncle Jesse?”
“Yep. I even went and checked the family bible; found the Summers name connected about six or seven generations ago.”
“So she is family,” Bo said.
“Bo,” it don’t matter if she’s family or not,” Daisy said. “You heard that letter. She needs help, worse than a coon stuck up a tree with a whole passel of hounds on his tail.”
“Don’t worry, darling,” Bo reassured his cousin, squeezing her hand. “We’ll do what we can.”
“Well if that’s the case,” Cooter said, rubbing his unshaven face, “then I guess the only real question for you folks is, who’s going?”
They all turned to look at Uncle Jesse. This year, the Dukes would finally be able to get a bit ahead of all their debts and pay for a new tractor. But with the kind of family that the Dukes were, they couldn’t just turn and leave family in trouble. No matter how distant they were.
Jesse sighed. “Boys, we’ll try to finish this year’s summer harvest, then we’ll head on down to California. Cooter, you’ll be welcome to join us.” The four younger people nodded. It was time to help family. “Oh and boys, try and stay away from Boss and Roscoe.” They all gave small grins at this.
Connor sighed as he looked at the letter again. One of the worst parts about being an Immortal was that you had to deal with people dying around you. He looked sadly at the letter, and remembered a young college girl with dirty blonde hair. A girl who had been studying both Art and Business, someone who often came to him for hands on knowledge during his short stint in L.A. He had spent nearly forty years in that town, and had helped the then young woman. She had come by in his last few years in the town. Grimacing at the memories that were coming up, he looked once again at the note, which had been placed on top of the pile of notes.
Dear Mr. MacLeod,
My name is Buffy Summers. The last time I wrote to you, was to tell you about the death of my mother. She said to consider you like an uncle, because you were like a big brother to her. Well Uncle MacLeod, I’m afraid that life has thrown a few curve balls towards me, and that I will have to explain a few things about myself, and what it is that I do. Then maybe you can understand why I feel like you should know what’s going on.
As Connor read the rest of the letter, he almost smiled when she implied that he would think her crazy. He, of course, already knew about vampires, having occasionally run into them from time to time. But he had never heard of these Slayers before, though he had come across records of various chosen warriors. He had studied the records, in an effort to see if there was any mention of who the winner of the game might be. He still looked into them from time to time, but he had begun to doubt the accuracy of the records when he saw how many times the world was supposed to have ended. He had never noticed anything go wrong with the world. Now, it seemed that the only reason he hadn’t, was because some girl fought beings with enhanced abilities.
Sighing, the Immortal knew that there was only one person to talk to when it came down to problems like this. He arranged for a trip to the safe house of a person who would probably know about this. It was time to visit the old man. He shrugged into his black trench coat, which hid the katana styled sword he carried.
A small road trip later, and he was standing on the blessed grounds that made up the home of the old man. Or if you asked the Watcher’s Council, it was the home of Adam Pierce, a loyal watcher. The idiots still didn’t realize that they were being played.
“What do you need now, you crazy Boy Scout?” The man asked as a greeting when he opened the door.
Connor looked at his friend Methos, or Adam, depending on who you talked to. The man was the oldest of their kind that Conner knew of. He handed the note over as he helped himself to the whiskey. The younger Immortal waited a moment, and then heard a string of curses in multiple languages. He recognized German, French, Japanese, and Latin. He thought he heard some Babylonian and Hebrew thrown in there as well, but he wasn’t sure. Knowing his friend, it was probably just for good measure.
“Well?” He finally asked, after he was sure the other man was done. “Is this business about Slayers true?” He handed another glass across to the man, who gratefully accepted the drink.
“The Slayer is very real, MacLeod. In fact, she’s supposed to be extremely dangerous. This one, in particular, is supposed to be the worst. Word from some of my connections, say that this girl is about a hair breaths away from being considered one of us,” the man said thoughtfully as he thought about everything he knew about the Slayer. He grinned slightly at the Highlander. “I knew getting on your good side was the right idea, Highlander, or would you prefer Uncle MacLeod?”
Connor sighed at the name. “Just don’t tell Richie, or Rachel, about that. I may have to tell them later, but I’d like to try to keep some of my dignity for now.” The older man merely shrugged as it made little difference to him.
“You realize that you might need their help though, right?”
Conner nodded. “You intend to help me out?”
The man sighed in annoyance before nodding. “I might as well, Highlander. After all, if you were to die, I might actually have a shot at a nice, calm time,” he said, grinning at his friend.
Nodding, Conner picked up his cell phone and began dialing up people that he would need to help him. Soon he had Richie, Rachel, and his clansman Duncan. They were all in various parts of the world, so he told them all to make their way toward his safe house in New York. From there, they would begin to plan what they might do.
After all, if this was Joyce’s kid, then this was a family matter.
Three teens were eating breakfast; two of them were, as usual, having some kind of feud, while the middle one was his usual, quiet self. The brown, bushy haired girl on his left, looked worriedly at him for a moment. While he may never let people see it if he could help it, he still had a hidden hurt in him, that he refused to acknowledge. The girl met the eyes of her other friend. The two of them nodded, as if in understanding, and the tension between the two mellowed slightly. They watched their friend for a moment before returning to their meals. They were stopped from saying anything when hundreds of owls began flying to the four giant tables that held the various students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; which was located in a giant castle, somewhere in Scotland.
One owl dropped a large pile of papers in front of the bushy haired girl. “Whoa Hermione, what happened? You didn’t have enough light reading with Hogwarts, A History? Or maybe you sent in a list of things that they got wrong; is this about the chamber maybe?” His eyes lighting up with amusement as he teased her.
“Funny, Ron,” she replied to her red haired companion as she picked up the large pile of papers. Stuck on top of the envelope were two letters. One was written in her mother’s handwriting ; she was slightly more comfortable with leaving a letter for an owl to pick up than Hermione’s father. She didn’t recognize the handwriting on the other letter.
“Well?” Ron Weasley asked, curious despite his comments. The other teen, with the lightning bolt scar, was curious as well, but kept his mouth shut and waited for her to answer.
“According to this letter from my parents, it’s a letter from an older cousin of mine in the states. They say that she understands the basics of magic, but that I’ll have to read her letter to fully understand what it is that she does.”
Ron picked up a sketch of a demon that that was sticking out of the pile. He vaguely remembered seeing a similar drawing in one of Percy’s Advanced DADA books. “What? Is the whole overdoing things something that runs in your family? When mum sends a letter, it might be a page or two long, not a bloody 500 page report, with pictures of monsters in it.”
Hermione glared at Ron, while their friend rolled his emerald green eyes at the stupid move. She quickly whacked Ron on the head. “Don’t curse Ronald, or I will tell your mother that you’re promoting the twins’ products” The threat quickly shut him up.
“Mate, as you’re my best friend, I am asking you to stop before she actually follows through with one of her threats,” Harry pleaded while Hermione just ignored them, already looking through the stack of papers. Ron just glared at his best friend, Harry James Potter, the Boy that Lived.
Harry grinned at his two best friends as they went back to joking. Hermione quickly opened the other envelope, while Harry led their friend in a discussion about Quidditch strategies for the next game.
“Oh!” She exclaimed, causing the other two to look at her curiously. “Um, I have to go to the library,” she said as she quickly grabbed the remaining papers and stuffed them into her bag. She rushed out of the Great Hall and past a pair of 5th Slytherins.
“Did you think there was anything odd about that?”
“What, her going to the library? Not really, mate. It’s Hermione after all.”
Harry rolled his eyes at his friend, who could be so, completely oblivious sometimes. It was almost time for potions, so he got up, it was located in the dungeons and he didn’t want to be late. He was just glad that Slughorn was easier to deal with than Snape, even if he did want to ‘collect’ him, Hermione, and Ginny. That, and the Half-Blood Prince helping him through the classes with a few pointers, was making him excel in the class, much to Hermione’s irritation, despite the fact that it was only hints and pointers on how to do better.
The rest of the day was spent in its usual fashion, though Hermione did seem to be slightly distracted all day. The three were in their usual work corner, and had made a good dent in their homework, when Hermione finally brought out the pile of papers that she had received that morning. She had been seen, by both of her friends, working on them off and on all day. Both of her friends were curious about what was so important in those papers.
The two looked at the pile of papers and merely waited for their friend to either tell them not to ask, or to tell them what it was that was getting her all riled up. Biting her lower lip uncertainly, she passed a letter over to Harry. The young wizard picked it up, and began to read.
First off, let me say that I can’t believe that I’m actually related to people in England of all places. My friends will never let me hear the end of this if they find out that I have family in Tweed Land. By now, I’m sure you’re wondering just who the hell this person is, that’s managed to insult you all in their first paragraph, without even explaining who they are.
My name is Buffy Summers and that is truthfully my real name. I am some type of cousin of yours on my mother’s side. So now that you know that you have a rude insulting person for a niece, I get to do a little bit of sharing time with you.
Harry swallowed nervously after he finished reading the letter. Hermione was going to kill herself, trying to help this cousin of hers; he just knew it. And then where would they be? Of course, it also seemed as if there was someone with a life weirder than his. “So,” he said weakly as he passed the note to Ron. “Think she can help with Voldemort? “
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Harry, my cousin has more important things to deal with than helping us in our war.”
“I’m not saying she doesn’t,” Harry replied as calmly as he could. “I’m just thinking that someone like this would be helpful. Maybe after she does her thing, we can get her to help us out.”
“Only if she gets reinforcements, mate,” Ron commented as he read the note. “I think we have about a half a year or so and then she’ll need our help, if we really plan on doing anything.”
“All right then. Think you can wait ‘til the school year is over, Hermione? Then we can all go together. I’ll ride Buckbeak all the way there if I have to. And after you’ve read all that stuff, I’ll even show it to Dumbledore,” Harry promised. Hermione reluctantly nodded to this course of action.
“I think the thestrals would be better, Harry,” Ron said, shuddering. But then he grinned at them, with a grin eerily similar to his twin brothers’. “Who knows, maybe they eat vampires.”
Hermione looked curious at that. “You know, they actually might be able do something like that,” she commented “After all, they are attracted to death and prefer dead meat.” She wrote a note to herself, most likely to ask Hagrid later. That is, if they could get the half giant to talk to them.
“So we agree then? We need to help them,” Harry said, confirming the information from his two friends. “And yes, I know my hero complex is getting in the way, so we’ll try and wait for as long as possible before we make our move. Then we’ll go and try to help,” he assured his friends. “And we’ll leave a note with Hedwig, to deliver a message after we’re across the ocean. Unless you’d rather leave it all to the Order, who would rather meet about it than actually go there and help.” The other two didn’t really have anything to say about that, since that was what seemed to happen a lot.
Hermione nodded in agreement. “Even riding thestrals, it will be several days before we can make it to Sunnydale.”
“Sunny Hell,” Ron corrected Hermione, pointing at the nickname that was on the note.
Harry smirked at the glare she shot Ron as he nodded in agreement. “So what do the books in the library say?”
“Not much,” she admitted, barely containing her growl. “In fact, it’s like searching for information on the Chamber of Secrets all over again. There’s almost nothing there. I’ve searched some of the basic books on magical creatures; I even checked a few books on history. There was, at the best, a half dozen books with one, maybe two, mentions of the Slayer. And those mentions were so unhelpful, that they might as well not even have been there,” she finished angrily, as the library,” for a second time, failed to provide her with the answers she was seeking.
“So you’re saying, the Slayer is a little hidden aspect of the world that either the founders didn’t want people to know about, or that the Ministry didn’t want people to know about.”
“Exactly,” Hermione grumbled, nodding, Ron merely shook his head, not quite having lost as much trust with the system as his friends. He also knew that if she put her mind to it, they would all be studying, trying to find the information needed to discover what the magical world knew about the Slayer. For all they knew, there was someway to give the Slayer an energy boost or something.
The three began to make plans for the fight that was coming, and how they would best be able to help each other. While they planned, they forgot for the moment, arguments and feuds that had taken up most of their time since the school year started. Harry looked at Hermione for a moment, while they planned their next big adventure. A reminder of their first year ran through his thoughts. He also remembered the injuries that his friends had gotten, so that he could complete this mission or that. through the years. Yeah, if there was one thing that he could do for his friends, it was ensure that they didn’t lose any more friends or family. Besides, Hermione and Ron were his family now, and if you messed with on of them, you messed with all of them.
Prue Halliwell frowned as she opened the letter that her sister had nearly had a convenient accident with the mailman to get. Why was Joyce’s kid sending her a letter? She hadn’t heard from their older cousin, who had gotten her interested in art in ages. She remembered the times when her cousin would come down and teach her things. She had actually taught all of them something, now that she thought about it. She had taught art to her and she was now doing more than just museum work. To Piper, she had taught the basics of cooking, and now Piper was a chef. And to Phoebe, she had taught her how to express herself. In Prue’s opinion, she had overdone the job on the youngest of them. Still, it was hard not to be glad to hear from their older cousin. A cousin that had been there, and willing to teach them all the things that mattered to her. Shaking her head, she looked down at the letter and finished opening it.
Dear Halliwell cousins, about,
Hello, In case you hadn’t already guessed, it’s me, your adorable and sweet cousin, Buffy. You guys are probably one of the few people that that I actually already know. To start with, there’s no easy way to say this, but mom died. It was a brain tumor. Sorry I didn’t let you know before now, but it was a hard time and things got a little crazy that summer. I was believed dead, leaving Dawn alone, but we’re both alive, despite some rather close calls that almost changed that. I know that some of that this isn’t all that reassuring, but since you’re the smart one, according to mom at least, I thought you could be the one to tell your family about what it is I do.
“Piper, Phoebe, you two might want to get in here,” Prue called as she finished reading the letter. The two sisters entered and Prue showed them the letter. After a short debate, the three quickly decided to go and check the Book of Shadows. Hurrying up into the attic, they found themselves in front of the family magic book. Biting her lip, like she always did when she was just trying to get information from the Book, Prue stood as tall as she could and said, “We need information on Vampire Slayers.” The Book flipped opened on its own, and the pages began moving until they finally landed somewhere in the middle.
“Let’s see,” Phoebe said, eagerly stepping forward and reading. “It says here, that the Slayer is a human being with enhanced speed, strength, senses, healing, and endurance. They’re trained to fight from birth, and they also have some minor seer powers. Oh yeah, and their always a girl. Can we say girl power?” she said grinning, but the other two didn’t share her amusement of the subject. “Man, I would so trade my powers for hers.”
“From the sounds of this, she could really use our help,” Piper said as she was reading the letter over again, hoping that it would make more sense to her this time around.
“Who would have thought that the daughter of Joyce Summers, would be more than the blonde version of Phoebe,” Prue commented sarcastically. The other two chuckled at this, though Phoebe did send a mock glare at her sister. They would have to figure out how to help this cousin of theirs. One thing that being around the supernatural had taught them was that they were strongest if they were together. And you couldn’t get more together than family.