Hellmouth Heroes

FIC: Hellmouth Heroes (11/?)

“This is one of Sunnydale’s most exclusive boutiques, I can’t believe I’m showing it to you!”

Faith raised an eyebrow at Cordelia’s trill. “We could leave if ya want,” she offered, her friends enthusiastically nodding behind her. “Not really fussed either-.”

”No, no,” Faith winced as Cordy grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the brightly lit shop, the ‘enhanced’ cheerleader having a hell of a grip on her. “If we’re to go to the dance, my girls aren’t going to show me up!” ‘My girls’, Faith raised an eyebrow, now she was a Cordette? Oh, the humiliation. “Not in front of -,” the cheerleader came to a stop with a hiss, “Harmony!”

“Oh hello Cordelia,” the blonde was flanked by a trio of her fellow cheerleaders, “still slumming it I see.”

“Yeah,” Faith drawled, “that’s what they say about your boyfriend too. But as long as he’s had his shots, I say let him sleep with whoever he wants.” Faith paused and smirked. “No matter the species.”

Faith was surprised when Harmony reacted with a smile rather than anger. “One day, Trailer Trash,” she smiled. “One day I’ll put you back in your place.”

“Any time ya wanna a try, Harm,” Faith replied, thumbs hooped in her jeans as she leaned against the shop’s pristinely white counter. “I ain’t hard to find.”

“Come on,” Cordelia sniffed, “we don’t have time to waste on them, we have dresses to pick.”

Faith bit back a groan. On balance she preferred trash-talking and cat-fighting.

* * *

“Tuxes?” Xander shook his head. It seemed an awful effort to go through to get a suit he’d wear just once. “Do we have to?”

Gunn shot him a glare. “It’s the end of year dance, you should make an effort. Or,” the black’s glare deepened,” are you sayin’ my sis ain’t worth it?”

Uh, oh, Luke Cage was in the building. “Sure she is,” Xander hastily replied as he looked distastefully at the suits, “but I hate dressing up.”

”Yeah,” Gunn sighed, shoulders slumping. ”Imagine how I feel.”

“At least you guys are tall!” Jonathan gasped.

“Height issues,” Oz stoically commented.

“We don’t just look like penguins, we’re roughly the same height!” Jonathan continued.

Xander looked from Jonathan to Oz, there was no answer to that. Or at least no answer he could think of that had him keeping his head. His mouth opened, and then the shop’s glass front exploded inwards and a snarling, slavering werewolf-like creature was bounding into the shop.

It sorta reminded him of Cordy at a shoe sale…

Xander threw himself to the side, bundling a shop assistant to the ground and out of the way as Jonathan leapt forward, his friend wrapping his arms around the snarling beast’s neck and twisting. A crack rang out as the beast’s neck broke and it slumped in Jonathan’s arms.

“That was cool,” Gunn praised.

“Oh yeah,” Xander teased. “You can totally see why Faith’s weak at the knees around him.” He grinned at his childhood friend’s blush.

“What a man,” Oz agreed.

“I feel sorta inadequate next to him,” Xander continued the teasing.

“Not the first time,” Oz added.

”Yeah-,” Xander glared at the wanna-be rock guitarist. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gunn chuckled before looking towards the ashen-faced shop owner. “We’re gonna need your security camera.”

”And our suits half-price,” Jonathan added.

“Nice,” Oz approved. “Always like a bargain.”

“Cheap though,” Xander mused. “Girls never like cheap guys.”

“Like you’re such an expert,” Jonathan fired back.

“Ouch,” Xander looked down at the killed animal. “I guess shopping’s over. Gunn, you call the girls and tell them to meet us at the library.”

“Me?” Gunn’s face flooded with alarm. “Why me?”

”You’re the one with the iron skin,” Xander pointed out.

“It really doesn’t help against Cordy’s mouth,” Gunn moaned.

Xander looked at the big black. “Ever heard the term ‘too much information’?”

* * *

“Oh good lord!” Giles hurriedly rose from his Tennyson, carefully placing the first edition inside his inner office before rushing back out into the main office. “What happened?”

“We were in the tuxedo shop when this ran in,” Xander explained as Gunn carefully laid the animal down on the desk, “Jonathan snapped its neck.”

“Well done,” he praised. “I suppose you’ve-.”

“This better be good Charles Gunn!” trilled a voice half-way down the corridor but clearly audible none the less.

”Called the others?” Giles sighed at Ms. Chase’s voice. “Have you called Wesley or Robin?”

Xander shrugged. “You’re sorta Watcher Boss.”

“If only,” Giles muttered. “Very well, then you explain to Ms Lehane and the others what happened while I phone the others.” Before anyone could protest he scurried into the office, leaving the others to bicker amongst themselves.

Upon his return he crouched before the dead animal. “Good lord,” his brow furrowed as he examined the corpse, nose wrinkling at its already decaying stench, “I believe it’s a Hellhound.”

“That’s a name filled with cheer,” Xander commented.

“Positively festive,” agreed Oz.

“What’s a hellhound?” queried Jonathan.

“A particularly vicious demon,” Giles looked up as Wesley walked in. “It's sort of a demon foot soldier bred during the Machash Wars. Trained solely to kill. They feed off the brains of their foes.”

“Ha,” Jonathan snorted. “And to think it went straight for Xander.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Xander glared at his newly-confident friend.

“Fido would have been disappointed,” Oz commented.

“Unless it was on a diet,” snarked Faith.

”We have a video of the outside of the shop while all this was going on,” Gunn said, holding up the tape in question, “we thought it might be able to give us to some clue as to who was behind this.”

“Ha, what a splendid idea.” Giles rummaged through his pockets. “Here,” he threw the keys to Xander, “go and get a video from the equipment room.”

Xander looked at the keys and then him. “If we’re going to be watching videos we need something to eat at the same time.”

“It’s an American tradition,” commented Oz.

“So how about you free up some Watcher money for a splurge at the vending machine?” Xander finished.

“This isn’t bloody movie night.” Giles shook his head. “Just get the video. By the time you get back Wood should be here.”

“And you said that as encouragement?” Giles heard but chose not to comment on Gunn’s mutter.

* * *

“Look! Right there, zoom in on that.”

Xander sighed more or less patiently at Cordelia’s hectoring. “It's a videotape.”

“So?” the brunette cheerleader was remorseless. “They do it on television all the time.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Not with a regular VCR they don't.”

“Wait!” Giles said. “What's that? Pause it.”

“Please!” Xander snapped. “It's just a normal VCR. It doesn't...” He paused and reddened. “Oh wait, uh, it can do pause.” Xander paused the video, eyes narrowing as he noticed a male teen peering in through the shop’s broken window. “Hello, hellhound raiser.”

“I know that face,” Oz mused. “He’s in our year.”

“I’ll get the class yearbook,” Wesley announced before disappearing into the stacks.

Minutes later and Oz was leaning over the yearbook. “Tucker Wells. He's in my chem lab.“

Giles chortled. “Let me guess. He was quiet, kept to himself, but always seemed like a nice young man.”

Oz shrugged. “He didn't seem the murderous type anyway.”

“Ooooh!” Everyone turned at Willow’s squeal. “I got into Tucker's e-mail account. Listen to this message Tucker sent to this kid David Metz at school last week. The Sunnydale High lemmings have no idea what awaits them. Their big night will be their last night.”

Giles raised an eyebrow. “So, we have a threat against the students on their big night, a hellhound trained to attack people in formal wear.”

“So good to see our leader is catching up!”

Giles glared at Cordelia. “Tucker is planning to attack the prom tonight.”

Xander shook his head. “Once again, the Hellmouth puts the special in special occasion. Why do I even buy tickets for these things, I ask you?”

“I suppose its fur might make a passable shawl,” Miss Chase suddenly mused.

Giles closed his eyes as his head began to throb. God help them all. He looked towards Wood and Wesley. “You two, in my office.”

* * *

The moment the door closed Giles spun to face his two subordinates. “Those children don’t have much,” he declared. “They’re forever risking their lives to protect the world. Well not on their prom night. You two have,” he quickly checked his watch, “thirty-six hours until Prom Night. It’s up to you to find this Wells boy. Understood?” He nodded at the two men’s nods. “Excellent. Now let’s give the children the good news.”

* * *

“I think I should be in charge,” Wesley argued as they strode through a darkening Sunnydale, shadows and clouds pushing the sun away.

”Oh yeah,” Wood loomed over him. “How do you figure that?”

Once Wesley would have been intimidated by the larger man. Those days were long gone though. “Because,” he stared unblinkingly at the black man. “I am the Watcher of the Slayer, you are the Watcher to a trio of potentials. Need I argue further?”

Wood’s mouth opened, and then the black’s foot shot backwards, crashing into a vampire sneaking up behind him. A snarl on his lips Wesley spun to face the demon sneaking up behind him, sliding beneath its right cross to deliver a forearm to the chest that knocked his rival back a step.

Wesley blocked a hook on his shoulder before charging in, taking the demons’ legs from under him with a leg sweep, dropping to one knee and delivering a stake to the beast’s chest. Upon standing he turned to see Wood had similarly disposed of his adversary. “Okay then,” the black man nodded. “What first?”

Wesley hid a smile at the other man’s sudden compliance. “First we’ll try Mr. Wells’ address-.”

”He’d have to be an even bigger idiot than he seems to be there,” Wood commented as they started down the road.

”Yes, I’m aware of that,” Wesley replied. “I’ve also decided visits to the youth Mr. Wells emailed and the magic shop are in order.”

“How about checking butchers,” Wesley looked at his companion, brow furrowing in confusion, “Wells must be feeding it, right?”

”An excellent idea,” Wesley praised.

* * *

Wood had his teeth firmly gritted against the cold as they walked through the hanging carcasses of the meat packing plant. They’d tried Wells’ home, the magic shop, the kid Wells had emailed, not to mention the other three members of Wells’ science club, and every butcher in town, but gotten exactly nowhere, but this was the last place. Now they had just three hours before the prom began.

“Hey,” a burly man wearing a white coat and a hard hat waddled towards them, clipboard in hand, “what are you doing back here?”

“Looking for information,” Wesley flashed the man a twenty dollar bill, “I don’t suppose you’ve had a Tucker Wells coming in here?”

The man looked at the twenty and then back at the Englishman. “Yeah, we have. Real weird kid. Kinda creepy.”

“What does he buy?” Wood put in as a way of testing the man’s honesty.

“Brains, always brains.”

“Excellent,” Wesley gave the man the note. “Now, his address?”

* * *

“Oh Jenny!” Giles feebly protested as his girl-friend tried to straighten his tie. “Please, stop fussing!”

“I will not,” Jenny scolded, the gypsy beauty wearing an off-the-shoulder silvery number that seemed to shimmer as it clung to her, “you’re walking in on my arm and you will not be showing me up.”

Giles beamed as the phone rang. “Oh thank go-,” he gulped at his paramour’s glare. “Duty calls.” After hurriedly extricating him from his girl-friend’s clutches, he hurried over to the phone. “Hello, Rupert Giles speaking.”

”Hello Mr. Giles,” Wesley answered. “We’ve found Mr. Wells’ whereabouts and will be heading there once we’ve spoken.”

”You won’t need any help?” Giles queried, hoping desperately for a yes he could use an excuse to escape chaperoning duties.

”No,” Giles’ heart dropped as Wesley replied. “As long as we get there in time, everything should be fine. We have our crossbows.”

“Excellent,” Giles fought back a sigh, “good work, carry on.”

* * *

Wesley looked at Wood. “Is he there?”

The black nodded, Wesley’s heart raced as he hefted his crossbow. “In that case we should get down there.” The two of them crept down the steps to find a scrawny youth crouched over a cage containing a snarling hellhound.

”You're ready to go.“

“Sorry,” Wood brought the bottom of his crossbow down onto the youth’s jaw as he looked up, knocking him on his backside, “new plan.” The youth froze when Wood pointed the business end of the crossbow at him.

“Good lord,” Wesley gazed at the assorted videos stacked on top, “’Prom Night’, ‘Carrie’, I assume this is how you brainwashed the monsters?”

“Neat, huh?“ Tucker boasted.

”How pathetic.” Wesley shook his head in disgust.

”How about we throw him into one of the empty-,” Wood’s voice trailed off as he stared at the four empty cages. “Oh crap.”

“Gotta have a redundancy system,” Tucker gloated. “One died in the shop but my three fiercest babies are on their way to the dance right now. You think formal wear makes them crazy, wait 'til they see the mirror ball.”

* * *

The music of some godawful pop band could be heard as Wesley screeched to a halt in the school parking lot, his crossbow was coming up as he leapt out of the car, the dogs charging roughly parallel with them as he fired. Their shots hit the demon-dogs in their necks, the two Hellhounds crashing to the ground as the third turned, its broad snout flaring, teeth glinting, and fur bristling.

”Oh dear,” Wesley muttered as the beast charged him, leaping over a car as he struggled to reload, then crashing into him, hot drool splattering him as he fell to the ground, crossbow falling uselessly from his hands, and the hellhound on top. Wesley smashed a right into the beast’s jaw even as he grabbed it with his other hand, muscles writhing as he tried to shove its head away.

The beast let out a high pitched squeal as Wood thrust a bolt into its neck from the right, and quickly followed up with one from the left, neatly skewering the beast. The grunting African-American lifted the creature off him, its paws mauling wildly at him, and flung the monster into the car parked next to them, the beast’s head hitting it and then sliding to the ground, thrashing slightly then stilling in death’s final embrace.

”Thank you for your assistance, old man,” Wesley muttered as Wood pulled him to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” Wood clapped his hands together, “that’s those creatures dealt with.”

Yes,” Wesley grimaced as he looked towards the noisy school. “I suppose we should go and report to Giles. Prom Night, has anything more horrible ever been invented?”

* * *

“My darling,” James laughed as he stopped his car, him, his beloved, and their four childes clambering out of the cramped car they’d stolen from an overweight San Diego businessman, “it’s fate’s sweetest gift. A new town, the Hellmouth, and a prom, plenty of fresh meat to slaughter, what could be more romantic?”

”I’m thinking flowers and a movie, but with my dating record what do I know?”

James spun with the others to face the handsome young man leading a group of four across the road. “Who are you?” he blustered, his back to the school.

“The name’s Pike,” the man pulled out a shotgun and smiled, “but you can call me Ghost Rider.”