“What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Um, I don’t own any of the stuff I’m writing about?” The texaswookie replies, as he tries to get back up. “Think I cracked my ribs again.”
“Very good, now you can die for your god.” The Goul’d replies.
“Geeze glad you’re such an understanding overgrown snake.” The Goul’d raises his arm to blast the insolent human, before the blow can come though the Texas native is caught up in a Asguard teleportation beam.
The small convoy of cars stopped at the city limits, all of the people getting out for a minute. Every one of them looked nervously at the welcome sign with red paint on it. “If anyone wants to back out, now would be the time,” Jonathan Kent said as his foot nudged the pole of the Welcome to Sunneyhell sign. “It’s likely to just get worse from here.”
“He’s right,” Connor agreed. “That fight earlier was nothing more than a test, I’m afraid. Soon there will be real problems.”
“’Fraid we can’t do that,” Luke Duke said, eyeing the town sign before them all, his mouth set in a grim line. “There’s family in there that needs help. When there’s a member of the Duke family in trouble, the others come a running.” He shrugged as if he was repeating something. The others nodded in understanding, while the Winchester brothers waited for them all to make their choice. They were already going; they just wanted to know who would be joining them. They understood this sort of thing better than most would. They had lost their mother to a demon, and now they fought the forces of darkness for revenge and the hope that other families wouldn’t have to go through what they had. They watched as what some might call a moment of truth came. This was the last chance that any of them would likely have, if they didn’t think they could handle what was to come. Once they crossed that city limit, anything was possible.
“We’re in,” Jonathan Kent said, giving his wife a hug with one arm and held his shotgun in the other.
“Same for us. We’re not about to leave either of the Highlanders out on their own.”
“Then let’s do it.”
“Hang on, folks, looks like we got us a late arrival,” Bo Duke said as he pointed to the Explorer that was heading towards them. Everyone turned and watched the car’s progress. Several of them unconsciously getting into position for a fight should things turn ugly.
The car stopped and the people inside got out. “Well, I’m seeing a lot of familiar faces today,” the youngest of the three women said.
“I saw you all in a vision. It looks like we were all meant to come together somehow,” she explained. The others nodded as they sheathed their weapons.
“Um, no offense to all you folks that seem to be involved in this somehow or another, but can someone tell us where we’re going?” Dean asked from where he was leaning against his Impala. He was also doing his best not to shoot looks of longing at the General Lee, which had easily taken the lead of the caravan. He had seen the men pop the hood of the car for a few minutes and he had been practically drooling after that brief glimpse. The only problem he had with it was that it stuck out like a sore thumb with that paint job.
“We plan on heading into the mouth of Hell itself, boy. We plan on going to help the family that needs our help.”
“And why do you think you’ll be able to help? I mean some of you aren’t too bad, like the kid there has some mad on strength, and some of you guys can really fight,” he complimented Clark and the Immortals. “But none of you really know what kind of a mess you’re getting yourselves into.”
“Don’t worry. If we can survive a few meteor changed people, then we can handle this,” Jonathan Kent assured him.
“And that would be what?” Dean asked.
“None of your business right now,” Clark said, coming between the two. He could already see the sparks that could start flying between this guy and his dad. He couldn’t help the small smirk on his face. First Lex, now this guy. Sometimes, his dad had problems trusting people. Maybe it was the whole dark shadowy figure they had. ‘Note to self: limit the number of dark shadowy friends I have. And make sure I don’t end up having to work with them too much.’
“Wait, I know you. You’re the kid we met in Colorado a few hours before Sammy got his vision.”
“Does that really matter right now?” Martha asked the young man.
“No, I guess not. Just trying to make conversation,” Dean said, shrugging it off. “Of course, it could be that he somehow triggered the vision.”
“You get visions, too?” Phoebe asked the sexy dark haired guy with the eyes that just screamed tormented soul to her.
“Back to what we were talking about,” Uncle Jesse interjected. “Who is going, and who is hiding? Raise your hands if you plan on crossing those city limits.” Everyone quickly raised their hands, though some looked like they wouldn’t have minded hesitating. “Well, then good. Everybody load up and we’ll introduce ourselves when we get where we’re going.”
“Do we want to wait for the army boys to come?” Prue asked the assembled family.
“The what?” several people asked, suddenly tensing up at the thought of the government finding out about them and their secrets.
“Yeah, on this side of L.A. there’s a group of soldier boys that shouldn’t be more than an hour or so behind us.”
“And why is there an army group coming here?”
“They’re family,” the girl said as if that explained everything, and in a way it did. “Or at least the guy in charge of them is. And there’s also the ex-boyfriend as well.”
“And you learned this how?” Adam asked.
“Well, we stopped at this diner that had been totally trashed…” she trailed off as a few chuckles broke out among the group. “And judging by the amount of coughing and shoe scuffing going on you guys had something to do with it, didn’t you? Or in your case, puffing out your chest,” the youngest of the three witches said, looking at Dean.
“Hey, it wasn’t exactly our fault!” Dean defended, smirking. “They were the ones that attacked us! And you should always take pride in your work, and always do it well. Besides, it was muscles and Robin Hood that caused the most damage,” he said, pointing to the two dark haired, farm boys.
“You two caused all that damage?”
“Um, just some,” Clark answered uncomfortably. He hadn’t been aware of the truck at the time, or he would have tried something different than what he had.
“Yeah, just some,” Luke agreed. “The rest was a bit of combined work from everyone else.”
“I see.” Everyone looked slightly amused at this.
“All righty then, now let’s load up,” Uncle Jesse ordered.
“Are you all sure you want to do that?”
“Here we go again,” one of the men grumbled as all of the heroes turned to look at the person walking up to them.
“I must admit I’m a little disappointed in the way you all got together,” the figure drawled. “You see, I was kind of hoping that you would try and kill each other before you finally started working together. It would definitely have saved me and my boys a bit of time if you had gone and softened each other up.”
“What does this look like, a TV show?” Phoebe asked as several people drew their weapons and turned to face a man dressed like a priest.
“No, ‘cause on TV the bad guy always loses,” the priest returned. “But you all, well we’re going to have to do something more, so I got some of my boys and some other friends to help out with you.” A large group of Bringers came out from where they had been hiding; alongside them were a group of men with swords. “Consider us the welcoming committee,” the priest said as he spread his arms out, grinning evilly at the assembled family.
“Great, Immortals and Bringers,” one of their own sword wielders complained as he adjusted his grip on his sword.
“And you expected this First thing not to play all it’s cards?”
“I could hope,” he joked. “So, do we get to know who it is that thinks he can kill us?”
“Where are my manners? Not that it matters that much, you see I’m allowed to kill some of you. You can call me Caleb. Get ‘em,” The Bringers began their attack. Weapons were ready as the two sides met. Smiling, the priest grabbed a boulder and tossed it at the group. The boulder was stopped in the air moments before it would have struck the youngest of the three sisters, and redirected at some of the Bringers. Caleb looked around for something else to throw, or to see if one of the white hats were close enough for him to grab. He saw that one boy kept managing to dodge a blade, and then toss the person into the air. And the way the Bringers heads jerked back, the boy could throw a punch. Grinning, the priest walked over to the boy. While he was dodging another punch, Caleb grabbed him by the back of his jacket, punched him a couple of times and threw him into the air. The boy let out a startled yell as he went flying. The priest grinned as he sought out a new target.
“You know, I could have sworn I told you not to mess with that kid until the witch was ready,” the First told its enforcer. “But no, because you feel like you know so much, you decided to go and try to hurt him. Despite the very obvious fact that you don’t have any of those meteor rocks with you.”
“Please, he didn’t know what hit him,” the preacher replied smugly. “And there’s no way that he’s getting back up after that. Not even that dirty blonde you like to copy would be getting up after being thrown around like that.”
“And neither will you,” the First complained as Caleb grabbed the two handed wrench that Cooter was using as a weapon and bent the thing in half. Swallowing, Cooter looked at the man in front of him. “Besides, I told you that I have a plan to deal with him. A shame his crush doesn’t know her true potential power yet. She might have been useful in this little fight here.”
“Look, I’ll apologize later, all right?” Caleb said in annoyance as the mechanic brought his hammer up, just barely missing Caleb’s head. The priest grabbed the grease monkey by his throat and looked him in the eye as he brought his fist back. “I think I need to teach you a few lessons boy.” Cooter glared black in response.
“Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone that can fight back?” Clark shouted as he grabbed the priest by his fist and squeezed.
Caleb screamed as he felt the bones in his hand being crushed together in the kid’s steel, vise-like grip. He dropped the unshaved man and swung around, hoping his fist would catch the kid that dared to touch him! Him! Vessel of the First Evil. The teen took the blow to the side of his head, causing it to jerk to the side, knocking his grip loose. Caleb then kicked Clark in the stomach. The teen doubled over in pain. “Well, son, it looks like you don’t know all that much ‘bout fighting.”
“You’d be amazed at what I know,” Clark said through gritted teeth as he grabbed Caleb by his collar and tossed him into a nearby boulder. The teen caught his breath and then headed back to fight the Bringers.
“Son, you have no idea what it is you’re facing. So how can you be ready?” Caleb asked, climbing out of the rubble.
“I can try,” Clark returned as the two powerhouses began to circle each other, looking for a weakness. “You know, you don’t have to do this. Think about it for a moment,” he pleaded with the man. “With you helping us, so much could be stopped before it got out of hand.”
“You don’t understand, boy. I’m not some person that wants that sort of thing. When the time of darkness comes, I shall rise above all others. Besides, it’s already out of hand.”
“You realize that you take the term fire and brimstone preacher just a bit too far, right?”
“You may not be blood related, but you are definitely related to her. Only she would talk like that. But now it’s time to die,” the preacher said in a very matter of fact tone. Caleb struck first, but his fist hit air as Clark ran around behind him and pushed the preacher into a sword. Caleb just barely twisted out of the way of the sharp blade. “Not a bad move, boy, but you can’t keep running like that. Sooner or later you’re gonna have to stop running. And when you do, I’ll be there,” the preacher promised the alien.
“I think I can handle whatever you try,” Clark shot back, not feeling anywhere near as brave as he sounded. The guy had taken one of his best punches earlier and been tossed into a boulder, but he was still standing. He had never gone against anything like that, and a part of him was scared that this guy might actually be able to beat him.
“Then back up your words, son,” the priest said, waiting for the farm boy to make a move.
“If you say so,” Clark replied, punching at the man. The priest sidestepped the shot and kicked Clark in the stomach again. “You see, son, sometimes you need to know a few things about fighting. It isn’t all about brute strength, though a lot of times it is.” He grabbed Clark by the back of his jacket and pushed his face down into his knee. “You see, son, that’s how it’s done,” Caleb lectured as he punched Clark, sending him flying back.
Clark shook his head as he got his bearings and looked at the smirking preacher that was kicking his butt all over the place. He had to get up and fight, though; no one else had the strength to fight this guy. Hauling himself back up, he punched Caleb in the jaw and watched as he was sent flying. “Clark! Get him out of here!” Martha Kent yelled as she swung a shovel at a Bringer that staggered from the blow.
“What is it with you heroes being around all these dirty women, boy?” Caleb asked, walking back toward the kid. “Does the dirtiness offer some sort of comfort to you?”
Clark glared at the man that dared to insult his mother. This time, he had gone too far. He punched the preacher into a tree and watched with satisfaction as the trunk broke. “Timber,” he said coolly. While the brown haired man staggered back up, the Kryptonian rushed into him, slamming him back into the ground. “Do you really think it’s smart to insult a woman when her family is all around you?” Clark hissed as he hauled the preacher up by the back of his jacket and swung him around twice before flinging him away and back toward the small town. Clark watched as the figure hit the window of one of the buildings. “That’s going to hurt,” the Kryptonian mumbled as he turned back to the fighting.
Sam kicked the kneecap of one of the sightless robed figures as a blade barely missed him. He really wished the creep would just go away. Suddenly, the guy was flung into a car. ‘These powers are really hard to get a handle on,’ he thought as the creep stumbled before falling down.
“Good shot, Sammy,” Dean congratulated his brother as he threw a stolen blade at another of the men. Sam nodded and watched as the kid that was a bit younger than him threw the preacher into a tree and the tree broke.
“Wow,” Sam muttered as he looked at the tree for a moment, it had to be at least eighty years old with a trunk as thick that. Ignoring the rest of his musings, he went back to fighting another blind man.
Prue yanked a bunch of knives from the grips of the Bringers while Phoebe fought them hand to hand, her lessons really paying off. Piper stood by and froze the occasional enemy long enough for one of her sisters to take care it. “How much longer do you two think you can hold out?” Piper asked, watching Prue grab one of the Bringers and toss him into three others.
“I don’t know, but I think Phoebe will out last us at this rate.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah, she’s not having to use her powers to fight, so she won’t be getting as tired as we are,” Prue returned as she sent three knives into the chest of a Bringer.
“You know, sometimes you guys say the nicest things,” Phoebe said, kicking one Bringer in the jaw and elbowing another in the gut. “Think there’s a spell that will make these guys go away?”
“Doubtful.” The three witches battled on, wondering if they really were out of their element.
“So, Luke, you think these boys will be letting up soon?” Bo asked his cousin as he helped Cooter back behind a car. The mechanic needed a moment to recover from his attempt at taking on the priest.
“Well, how should I know that?” Luke asked his cousin as he checked his friend’s throat. “Looks like it’s just bruised.”
“Whatever happened to loving thy neighbor?” Cooter complained, rubbing his sore throat.
“I don’t think this is the kind of preacher you want to get on the bad side of,” Luke replied, slamming one of the robed men, who had been trying to sneak past them, into the tailgate of Cooter’s truck. “Besides, I think he’s more an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”
“And to think I left my chicken farm for all this,” the mechanic rasped. Getting back up, the man tackled another of the Bringers that was trying to out flank Uncle Jesse and the other shooters.
“So, this is what it boils down to, eh?” Joe asked as he and the other three gunmen took a breather for a moment, reloading their guns.
“Nah, this is just another preview of what’s to come,” Uncle Jesse replied as he fed some more shells into the family shotgun. “You know how the movies are these days; they have to have like two or three commercials before they finally get down to the main event.” He turned and saw that Daisy was working with a woman that was holding a shovel in her hands; Daisy held a hoe and was swinging it all over.
“Don’t worry, Uncle Jesse. She’ll live through this, even if I have to get between them and her myself,” Enos promised the old man.
“Thank you, Enos. Now how about you and I get back to it?”
“Yes, sir,” the L.A detective replied as the two of them came back up and began firing at the Bringers.
“I suppose it’s not really a good time to ask why your friends are fighting those others with swords,” Mr. Kent commented as he ducked a thrown knife.
“You’re right,” Joe said, reloading his hot gun. “Just like it’s not really the time to ask you how your son’s able to throw a demon through a window, or how he can stand up to that preacher over there.”
“What can I say? We just grow ‘em right on the farm,” Mr. Kent joked nervously as he fired at another Bringer.
“Right,” Joe responded dryly as he watched Richie fighting an Immortal that he didn’t know. Duncan and the others all appeared to be fighting known Immortals. That is, they were known as some of the worst sons of bitches that had come to be. And the worst thing was, he couldn’t get help for them because of the game. Did the rules still matter during a war, though? Shaking his head, Joe shot a Bringer in the throat before it could get too close.
Richie ducked another swing that would have taken his head. As it was, it cut a piece of his hair off instead. He hadn’t thought that was really possible. Blocking another blow, he kicked the man back and attacked low, hoping to bleed his opponent out so he could see if anyone else needed his help. The man skipped out of reach and brought his blade down in an attempt to take his arm off. Richie barely dodged out of the way and watched as his sword sunk into the ground. Kicking out again, he caught the Immortal in the face. He then stabbed him in the arm,pinning his limb to the ground. Before he could finish him off, though, a Bringer interfered with the fight.
“We shall fight again,” the Immortal promised as he tore the sword out of his arm. Dropping the weapon, he made a run for it. Looking around, Richie saw that all of the dark Immortals were making a run for it; whether they had been winning or losing their challenges.
“What just happened here?” Amanda asked.
“Well, it might have to do with all of those army trucks pulling up,” Duncan said, holding his arm close as a slash healed itself with a crackle of quickening power.
They all watched apprehensively as the soldiers unloaded and began taking potshots at the Bringers that were still visible with a wide variety of weapons. “Stay in groups people! Some of them really don’t like to stay down,” an older man ordered. The soldiers secured the perimeter, leaving the family of fighters stuck right in the middle of the group of soldiers.
Colonel Jack O’Neill stepped forward, Carter to his left. Commander Finn stood beside him, her second standing to her right. He knew Daniel, Teal’c, and that Graham person were somewhere around, watching how this meeting went. “Well, campers, that was impressive. And I’ve got to say, this is one heck of a get together we’ve got going on here,” he added sarcastically. “Now, anyone want to tell me why you think you’re here? Or am I going to have to beg?” Several hands reached into pockets and pulled out letters with familiar handwriting. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” the aging colonel said as he looked at the signature on each and every one of the letters. If this was right, about a quarter of the people here were related to him in someway or another. The others were related through the other side of the family, and a couple were just family friends, or family of the people that had letters. What were the chances of something like this happening? He’d have to ask Carter later to get the exact numbers, but he didn’t think that they were really in his favor. ‘Of course, when have I ever cared about the odds?’ he thought.
“So, what now?”
“Now you let us handle this, and you can all pretend that none of this happened,” Commander Finn said.
Her second snorted at this comment. “And if they’re anything like Buffy?” he muttered to his C.O.
“Not everyone is that hardheaded, Riley,” she returned before turning back to the crowd of civilians. She had been shocked when she heard that her husband and the Colonel had let a couple of civilians through. Now they wanted to let this entire crowd of civilians through? Not on her watch.
“Not happening, lass,” Connor said as he looked at the blonde woman that dared to think she could tell him whether or not he could go help one of his adoptive families. He was the godfather of Buffy’s great-great-great-great-grandfather for Pete’s sake! He made it a habit to spend at least a few years in each of the lives of the descendants of his various families, and they had never known. Now, though, they would. Hopefully, he could keep his connection to her a secret. She would just think that he was a family friend of her mother’s. “If you think that I’m going to let ye tell me when I can fight the supernatural, lass, then you’ve got another thing coming. In fact, about half of us here are already connected to the supernatural in some way or another. There is no way that yer going to be telling me to back down from a fight.”
"Colonel, surely you know I’m right about this."
"It’s out of our hands, Commander. She called, or rather wrote, them, so they know what’s going on. And if they decide to get in contact with her, to help her, then there is little that we can do about it."
"You heard him, pretty lady. Now how about we go see this relative we’re all so eager to meet?" Bo suggested, grinning cockily. “After all, it wouldn’t do to be late, now would it, darling?”
“Very well, but I want it on record that I object to this.”
“And I object to people not telling me that my family is being attacked on a daily basis, but I don’t say too much about it,” the colonel returned shortly, rolling his eyes. For the most part, the woman was okay, but every now and then she went into this regulation mode that was kind of annoying.
The woman nodded as she watched the civilians get into their cars preparing to head into Sunnydale. “This is dangerous, Colonel. Are you willing to risk your entire family?” she asked, obviously trying to play the psychological card about the loss of his son.
“We gotta do what we gotta do sometimes,” Jack replied coolly. “Besides, the family that fights together stays together. All right everybody, lock and load. We’re heading into enemy territory and I want everybody prepared to deal with whatever comes our way.” All of the soldiers nodded as they loaded back up. The men and women cocked their weapons in preparation for war with their worst nightmares.
“You ready, bro?”
“Let’s do it, Dean.” The two men fell in with the rest of the group, the black Impala joining the caravan of cars and trucks. “Is this how you plan on avenging me, boys?” a voice familiar to one of them asked. The two boys jerked their heads around at the sound of a voice and stared at the image of their mother. “You intend to help this other family while my killer is out there?” she asked them, disappointment on her face.
Dean scowled at the figure, the hope he had been wearing moments ago dying. “You may look like her, but you’re obviously not our mother, or you wouldn’t be trying that.”
“Too true, but are you prepared to fight a fight that’s way out of your league, Dean?” the woman asked, smiling beautifully at the two young men before she laughed in the musical tone that Dean had loved so much and disappeared.
“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?“
“’Cause it is bad,” Dean told to his brother as he clutched the steering wheel tightly.