Who Wants to Live Forever? (part 1 of 4)

Legalistic Disclaimer
Once again, this is the situation: The concept and characters of 'Highlander' (Duncan MacLeod, Richie Ryan, Joe Dawson, and Amanda) belong to Davis and Panzer Productions and Rysher. Meanwhile, over in Sunnydale, the concept and characters of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' (Buffy, Angel, Xander, Willow, Giles, Spike, and Drusilla) belong to Joss Whedon, Warner Brothers, and Mutant Enemy. Any other recognizable characters also belong to their respective copyright holders. They'll all be returned to their owners none the worse for wear (sure, they will). Also, thanks once again go to my beta readers, Mary Ellen Jedrlinic and Claudia Diamond (who were also returned none the worse for wear).

One last thing before we get this show on the road, please do not re-post this story without first gaining the author's permission (that would be me). Violation of this caveat may result in either decapitation or staking (decisions, decisions, decisions).

** Important: Author's Note **
This is a sequel to my other crossover story, Immortal Dilemma. To minimize potential confusion, I recommend that you read it (among other things, I indicated that Xander is a pre-Immortal) before diving into this tale. When necessary, I've also taken the liberty of filling in some of those annoying gaps in character development. This story is set in the near future of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and during the fifth season of Highlander. In other words, the insanity of Highlander's fifth season finale, when Richie seemingly gets killed, is completely disavowed in my little universe. Of course, I'm also assuming that Angel will eventually somehow return from his recent (late second season) walk on the wild side with the fang gang. But, if all else fails -- and Angel stays evil and Richie stays dead -- well, then this can become an alternate universe story. Deal with it! Got all that? You do...really? Good.

Remember, all (positive) comments are welcome. All other (negative) comments will be criticized and/or ignored (hey, it's a free story, sometimes you get what you pay for). Please direct E-mail to me.
Enjoy.

Who Wants to Live Forever?(part 1 of 4)

When it came to fashion sense, the undead generally lacked that special "something." Choosing any hole in the ground or abandoned building to set up shop. This was especially true of the current vampire king and queen of Sunnydale, Spike and Drusilla, who were headquartered in an abandoned tool and die shop.

"Why don't we go someplace nice so I can play with my dollies? They're getting all dirty."

"Oh, we will Dru. Just as soon as we take care of that Slayer chick and her troublesome friends. Then we'll move to the Ritz and show your dolls a good old time."

Moving up behind his longtime lover, Spike began to caress her shoulders as he nuzzled her neck.

"This Buffy babe is powerful, my sweet. Bitch dropped a pipe organ on us and all! Putting me in that damn wheelchair for months and scratching up my pretty face. But, we have all the time in the world to destroy her."

With a far-away look in her eyes, Drusilla then turned to face the platinum-blonde vampire, stating, "The Slayer will be defeated by an enemy from within rather than by an enemy from without."

Taking a step back to ponder her statement, Spike then asked, "Have we been having dreams again, love?"

After a few moments, Drusilla then added, "There is one near the Slayer who is different...powerful. She won't suspect anything until it's too late."

Suddenly losing his grin, Spike turned away and snapped, "C'mon, Dru. You know we can't count on Angel -- one day he's with us and the next he's back under her skirt -- that damn schizoid, traitorous, son of a..."

"Not Angelus. There is another."

His smile returning, Spike then turned back, embraced Drusilla, and stated, "Share with daddy."

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Later that evening, about 20 miles away in Seacouver, two young men were practicing martial arts after- hours in a gym. The younger of the two was definitely losing.

"Don't telegraph your moves, Xander. You lose the element of surprise."

"Should I use a fax machine instead?"

After Richie Ryan kicked the young man's left leg out from under him and quickly knocked him onto his butt, he replied, "No, not a fax. Maybe a long-distance phone call though."

Helping the young man up, the Immortal then added, "Don't worry. When I practice with MacLeod, I usually spend more time staring at the ceiling than standing on my feet. It just takes some time."

Gingerly flexing his left knee to make sure it was still functioning, Xander Harris replied rather sheepishly, "Yeah, well if I was going to live forever like you and MacLeod, I could afford to take things in stride too. Patience has never been one of my strong points."

Taking a drink from his water bottle, Richie decided to pass on a discussion about longevity and instead focus on the progress the teenager had made during the six months he knew him.

"Xander, you're doing very well. MacLeod and I are very impressed -- although Mac will never admit it. It's just not his way. A few months ago, you had no discipline, had never touched a quarterstaff or a sword, and were basically a disorganized mess. Now look at you. You're almost as good as me."

Pondering what the young Immortal had just said, Xander then remarked, "But Richie, MacLeod says you're undisciplined and disorganized."

After a pause, Richie smiled, grabbed the boy by the shoulders, and said, "See. You're learning from an expert!"

The smile quickly faded to a frown as Richie heard the dojo's outside door swing against its frame and sensed the approach of another Immortal. Noting his friend's sudden change in demeanor as the Immortal quickly made his way towards his nearby gym bag...and sword, Xander asked, "Richie, what's wrong?"

Exposing his blade, he replied, "We have a visitor. If anything happens, leave through the back way. Don't try to interfere."

At that moment, a tall woman wearing sunglasses -- at night -- and a short leopard skin vest over a black cashmere sweater with tight black pants appeared in the doorway. She was also wearing a beautiful pendant from a gold chain around her neck. Slowly running her tongue over perfectly highlighted crimson lips, she cooed, "Oh, my. Two sweaty young men. I must be in the right place."

"Amanda? What are you doing here?"

Before responding, the woman slowly removed her glasses and hung them, by the frame, in the neckline of her sweater. "I was just in town and thought I'd visit."

Slowly advancing on the young Immortal, she then asked, "I am welcome, am I not, Richard?"

Blushing, Richie answered, "Of course, Amanda. What's ours is yours."

Amanda's overall visual impact was also not lost on Xander, whose eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets.

Stopping to caress the side of Ryan's face, the female Immortal purred, "Of course, sweet boy." Then, turning her attention towards Xander, she added, "And speaking of sweet boys..."

Quickly deciding that introductions were in order, Richie stated, "Amanda, this is Alexander Harris, one of my students. Xander, this is Amanda, one of Mac's oldest friends."

Extending her hand, both Amanda and Richie were surprised when the young man bent down and kissed it, stating, "The pleasure is all mine."

"My, my. What a charming young man you are Alexander."

Smiling, the teen replied, "It's just 'Xander.' Nobody calls me 'Alexander' except my mom...when she's angry."

"Well then, Xander it is."

Silently observing the proceedings, Richie thought, "I knew the kid learned fast." Turning his attention back to the 1,000-year-old female Immortal, he remarked, "Mac's in New York at an auction, Amanda. He's bidding on a Picasso at Sotheby's."

Before Amanda could reply, the two Immortals were distracted by a sharp pain that started in the back of their heads and quickly rattled around to their temples before easing somewhat. The sensation was not completely different from when they sensed another Immortal, yet more intense. They also became aware of a leather-clad figure standing in the doorway.

Richie, upon seeing the newcomer, simply remarked to a suddenly tense Amanda, "It's OK. He's a friend." Then, turning to Xander, said, "I guess we're out of time. You ride's here."

Toweling sweat off his face, Xander muttered to no one in particular, "Man, why can't he be late just once? Things were just getting interesting around here." Moving towards the locker room, the teenage then added for the benefit of the new arrival, "Angel, just give me a few minutes to change. I'll be right back."

Holding his position in the shadows of the doorway, the man -- who from all external appearances didn't seem much older than either Xander or Richie -- simply called after him, "Hurry up, Xander. Giles said there might be something happening tonight and I want to keep an eye on Buffy."

From the depths of the locker room, an echoing voice replied, "Chill. I'll be right out."

Amanda, instinctively sensing an opportunity for an introduction, started to clear her throat. When that didn't work, she swiftly kicked Richie in the ankle.

"Ow! What's up? Oh, yeah...Angel, this is Amanda."

As she extended her hand, Amanda commented, "Angel -- what a fascinating name. Is it Spanish?"

Looking somewhat uneasy, he replied, "No, it's ah, Gaelic. Actually, it's just a nickname."

Batting her eyelids for dramatic effect, Amanda simply replied, "Nickname or not, it's very appropriate." After circling the newcomer once to complete her assessment, she then turned back to Richie and added, "Richard, where, pray tell, have you and MacLeod been hiding him?"

Desperately trying to suppress a grin, Richie was thoroughly enjoying the effect that Amanda's behavior was having on Angel, who was now nervously shuffling from foot to foot. When the young Immortal thought the older man had suffered enough, he decided it was time to get him off Amanda's hook.

"Amanda, we haven't been hiding him anywhere. In fact, MacLeod and I only met Angel -- and his very lovely girlfriend -- last year."

With a mock look of surprise, Amanda then turned back to Angel and asked, "Oh, please. Now don't tell me you're an old fashioned, one woman kind of guy like MacLeod. That's no fun at all."

With a sheepish grin, Angel replied, "I'm afraid so."

Their conversation was interrupted as Xander re-entered the room.

"OK, Richie. I threw my stuff in one of the empty lockers. Same time next week?"

"Sure thing. See you then."

Noticing how Amanda was still eyeing Angel, Xander asked, "Do you two know each other?"

"No," replied Angel a little too quickly.

With that, Amanda sighed, "Unfortunately."

"O....K....then I guess we're outta here. Later, Richie. Nice to meet you, Amanda."

After nodding slightly to the two Immortals, Angel followed the teen out of the gym. Upon hearing the building's outside door close, Amanda turned to Richie and asked, "What's the story with those two?"

Draping a towel around his shoulders, the young Immortal simply shrugged and sighed, "It's kind of a long story, Amanda."

Leaning towards him, Amanda then used the towel's fringe to wipe a bead of sweat from Richie's brow. After the offending moisture was eliminated, she replied, "Well, darling, we both have PLENTY of time for a good story, now don't we?"

Realizing he couldn't avoid full disclosure to Amanda -- she was relentless -- Richie decided to surrender quickly and spill the beans, rather than have her wear him down. However, that didn't have to happen on an empty stomach. Moving to lock the dojo's outer doors, he said, "Let's go raid Mac's fridge and I'll explain everything."

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An hour or so later, Amanda's jaw had practically dropped onto MacLeod's kitchen counter.

"A vampire? Him? How? You're not serious!"

Sipping orange juice, Richie waited for the woman to stop sputtering before responding, "Yes, a vampire -- as in fangs and 'I vaant to suuck yourr bloood.'"

"C'mon, Richie. I've been around the block a few times and I think I would've heard about vampires somewhere along the line."

Putting his glass down, Richie simply replied, "But Amanda, we've ALL heard about vampires, haven't we? Not to mention the occasional bizarre killing involving massive blood loss."

"That's different, Richie. Those are Halloween fables and ghost stories. As for the random freak murder, that could be the work of a cult or psychopath."

Without missing a beat, the young Immortal quickly countered, "That wouldn't be like the freak 'cult' that occasionally leaves headless bodies around here, would it?"

Pondering that thought for a few moments, Amanda quietly replied, "OK, fine. Point taken."

Moving to place the cold cuts they had been picking through back in the refrigerator, Richie then added, "Look, from what we know, Sunnydale is the Grand Central Station of supernatural activity, including vampires. Angelus..."

"Who?"

"Oh, sorry, Angel -- I think he changed it for professional reasons or something -- helps his girlfriend and her friends hold back this tide of evil from overwhelming that town and possibly the world."

As she started moving towards MacLeod's liquor cabinet, it became obvious to Richie that Amanda was not accepting this information easily.

"But why them?"

Before answering, Richie drained the remaining juice from his glass.

"Why not them? According to their Watcher..."

"Stop! Did you say Watcher? They have Watchers too? Now I know I need a drink."

Running his hand through his short hair, Richie waited until Amanda finished filling a glass with MacLeod's best single-malt Scotch (only the best for Amanda). Knocking back a mouthful, she croaked, "Oooh, he finally found more of the good stuff. OK, now I'm ready, go on."

"Like I was saying, their Watcher -- same concept as Joe Dawson's group, by the way, but a different organization -- guides a young girl known as 'the Slayer,' whose mission it is to destroy various ghouls and assorted nasties. The current girl's name is Buffy Summers and just happens to be Angel's girlfriend. And, oh yeah, did I mention that supposedly there can only be one Slayer at a time? That also sounds kinda familiar, doesn't it?"

As she refilled her glass, Amanda asked, "Are you trying to tell me that the one girl on Earth who is sworn to destroy vampires..."

"And demons."

"Excuse me, vampires AND DEMONS...just happens to be in love with a vampire? How did that happen?"

"Well, I don't know all the gory details, no pun intended -- oh hell, sure it was -- but after killing his entire family, among others, a group of Gypsies placed a curse on Angel that restored his soul nearly a century ago. Ever since then -- well except for a short time last year when the curse was accidentally removed and he tried to kill everybody...but that's a long story -- he's been helping to destroy other vampires."

Walking towards Richie, Amanda then remarked, "Fine. This Angel guy is a vampire who just happens to be in love with a vampire Slayer. There's a match made in heaven...and I thought I had trouble with men. You said he's also Immortal?"

Yeah. That's probably why we get that wonderful teeth grinding sensation any time he's around."

"Fine, I get that. Now what's the deal with his friend, Xander?"

"By that you mean..."

"Richie, you realize he's going to be an Immortal one day, don't you?"

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Richie replied sarcastically, "No! Your kidding? Of course I know that Amanda. I may be sort of new to this game myself, but I'm not stupid."

Running her hand down his cheek, Amanda cooed, "Did I ever mention that you're cute when you get annoyed?"

"Cute?"

"Yeah."

"Well, like I was saying before you rudely interrupted me..."

Suddenly pulling down sharply on his earlobe, Amanda stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"Don't push it, Richard. Annoyed may equal cute in my book, but rude can equal pain."

"Hey, it was worth a try. Anyhow, like I was saying, Mac and I both realized Xander is pre-Immortal. In fact, MacLeod also thought it was necessary to tell one other person."

"Who?"

"Angel."

"Why?"

"Because he thought Angel would be in the best position to keep an eye on him without disrupting his life."

"Which just happens to also include hunting and killing various ghouls."

"Actually, I think the ghouls are usually already dead...but, yeah, now you've got it."

Turning back towards the liquor cabinet, all Amanda could say was, "Where's that Scotch? I need another drink."

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The following afternoon, Rupert Giles was performing one of the many essential services of a Watcher, namely having the living hell kicked/beaten/pummeled out of him by his young charge during their weekly martial arts practice session. While many teenage boys might actually have paid to experience this treatment at the hands of Buffy Summers, this kind of abuse could actually lead to permanent damage for a middle-aged man. These were the thoughts running through Giles' mind as he was flipped onto his back for the fifth time in ten minutes.

"I really think I should keep working on that move. It's not generating enough force on impact."

"Oh, I don't know, it felt pretty...forceful to me."

"Why Giles, are you actually saying that I can stop practicing early today?"

As the Englishman slowly got back on his feet, he paused a moment before answering, "No. You should continue practicing. It's me who should stop...for my own good. Maybe you should try some target practice with the crossbow."

After emitting what could only be described as a small sigh, Buffy started towards the weapons locker located along the far wall of the Sunnydale High School library. As she entered the small caged-in room, a fleeting question crossed her mind, which she verbalized to her mentor a moment later.

"Hey Giles, why hasn't anyone on the school board, or Principal Snyder for that matter, ever questioned why we have a fully stocked arsenal in the library?"

The librarian paused to adjust his eyeglasses before responding, "Strange. I was under the impression that most American secondary schools have weapons lockers...to put down civil disturbances by the students and such."

As she attempted to lift her jaw off the floor, the girl replied simply, "Sometimes you frighten me, Giles." When a slightly quizzical look crossed his face, she then added, "One day...really soon...we've got to chat about what the English REALLY THINK goes on in America."

The two were then interrupted as Xander entered the room with several textbooks under his arm. Noticing this, Buffy wryly remarked, "Oh. Oh. A sign of the Apocalypse."

Giles, once again displaying his ability to miss an obvious joke, quickly sputtered, "Who? What? Where?"

With a mild look of annoyance, Buffy then explained, "Chill, Giles. Xander is carrying books -- to study from -- a sure sign of the Apocalypse. Ha. Ha. It's a joke, son."

A moment later, she watched as the man slowly moved towards his office muttering to himself. All should could make out was, "...joking about Doomsday while living on a Hellmouth. Very unwise. Very unwise indeed."

Xander silently watched this interplay between the Slayer and her Watcher before commenting (after Giles was safely out of earshot behind the closed door of his office), "I think I'll give him a Whoopee Cushion this year for Christmas. He'd like that." He then added, more seriously, "In case you haven't already guessed, I have a major trig test tomorrow. If I flunk it, I might just experience my own personal Apocalypse."

"Can't Willow help you study?"

"Actually, that's the plan. I thought I might catch her in here. She's coming over my house after dinner - - wait, let me rephrase that -- she's coming over my house after HER dinner. I, on the other hand, have the exciting choice between Chinese take-out, Mickey D's, or the roach coach on 17th and Elm."

"What? No leftovers in the Harris household?"

"No, Buff. Leftovers would imply that cooking actually takes place in our kitchen. That would also imply that mom and/or dad would be home long enough to even FIND the kitchen. But then again, lawyers and doctors don't have much time to be happy homemakers."

Seeing that this conversation had unexpectedly taken a serious turn, Buffy quietly remarked, "I'm guessing it's not exactly a Norman Rockwell scene at home?"

Slumping against a table, the young man started to reply, but then stopped to rephrase what normally would have been a wisecrack, "Actually, good ol' Norman would be VERY at home. Two parents, a son, a cat, and a dog -- who could ask for anything more? Don't ya know, Buff, I'm living the perfect teenage American fantasy -- an empty house to throw my wild, depraved parties. Now all I need are some wild, depraved friends to invite. Interested?"

With a tight smile, the girl replied, "Well, at least your mom AND dad are still together. That's got to count for something."

"Yeah, a joint tax return."

"Xander!"

"OK. Fine. Maybe it's not so bad after all. But it can be lonely sometimes."

"I know, Xander."

The young man then retrieved his books and started moving towards the door.

"Enough feeling sorry for myself...I've gotta go. See ya 'round, Buffster."

"Maybe later at the Bronze?"

"Maybe. If Warden Willow grants me parole, that is."

Calling after him, she responded, "Hope to see you then."

And with that, Buffy was alone with a crossbow on her lap.

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Two hours later, having opted for Value Meal No. 9 (Filet 'O Fish, large fries, and a vanilla shake), Xander was heading home in the early autumn gloom. Maybe if he hadn't been distracted by the assorted trigonometric functions and log tables swirling around in his head, he would have noticed the unnatural quiet surrounding him sooner. No crickets chirping, no dogs barking, and no other pedestrians or car traffic on this particular side street. The first realization that he was in trouble was when a tall figure, clad in a long black leather coat, emerged from behind a hedge.

"Well now. Who do we have here? I do believe it's one of my old mates from Sunnydale High. I also believe we have some unfinished business from Parent-Teacher Night. If memory serves, I think you owe me dinner."

Suddenly becoming aware of the hair standing up on the back of his neck, Xander nonetheless decided to put up as brave a front as possible.

"What do you want, Spike? Did Drusilla finally come to her senses and throw your sorry ass out?"

Moving closer, the vampire merely smiled before replying, "If I was you, I'd be worried about my own sorry ass."

Before Xander could utter another word, he suddenly became aware of movement behind him. As he started to turn, he caught the fleeting outline of an object heading for the side of his head. That was all he saw before losing consciousness.

"Ouch. Now that's got to smart." Then, addressing his minions, Spike added, "Boys, let's get him back to the lair. It's been ages since we've had guests."

As the teenager was dragged towards Spike's car by two other male vampires, their leader bent down to pick up the fallen Louisville Slugger. As he turned towards the car, he started twirling the bat in a wide circle.

"I'm actually more of a cricket person myself. But, when in Rome..."

Getting behind the wheel of the car, Spike started whistling 'Take Me Out to the Ballgame,' before hitting the accelerator and speeding away into the night.

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Later that evening, Buffy found herself in a very strange situation. She was sitting in the Bronze ALONE sipping a diet soda while searching the largely teenage crowd for her friends (and the rafters for her significant other, Angel). The only person she spotted, however, was Sunnydale's current ice princess, Cordelia Chase. Unfortunately for Buffy, Cordelia had also spotted her and was rapidly moving towards her.

"Buffy, have you seen Xander tonight?"

"No...but have you checked the utility closet?"

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. I told you that was all a big misunderstanding. Those damn electricians should keep their mouths shut."

"Cordy, the way I heard it, you and Xander somehow managed to short circuit the school's entire electrical system when..."

"Like that's so untrue! All lies! He was just trying to help me find my contact lens that had rolled under the closet door."

Slowly taking another sip of her drink to prolong the other girl's discomfort, Buffy couldn't resist asking one additional question. "I've been meaning to ask Xander how those burn marks on his butt are healing. Would you happen to know?"

Flashing a look that could have melted lead, Cordelia simply huffed, "You're disgusting," spun around on her Manolo Blahniks, and started to leave.

While desperately trying to keep from snorting the soft drink up her nose, Buffy called after the retreating girl, "Talk about a couple of live wires..."

"Who?"

The Slayer quickly spun around to face her new companion, who had seemingly materialized out of thin air. She also realized, to her horror, that she desperately needed a napkin to dab the carbonated beverage from her nostrils. As usual, Angel's timing was impeccable.

"Ahhh...no one. Sit down. Please." Buffy then proceeded to quickly remove her purse from the chair next to her.

"No escort tonight? Haven't I told you about going to nightclubs alone? You never know what kind of strange men you might meet."

"Present company excluded, of course?"

"Of course."

"Actually, I'm hoping that Xander and Willow will join us later. They're hitting the books for a test tomorrow."

Smiling, he replied, "Damn, we're all alone then."

"You love it...want to dance?"

Before he could respond, Angel found himself being pulled (with remarkable strength) towards the dance floor.

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Meanwhile, in a deserted factory across town, Xander was just beginning to regain his senses. However, that was a mixed blessing in his present circumstances. The teen quickly became aware of the fact that he was shackled, spread-eagle, against a cold, damp brick wall. He was also shirtless and, despite his best efforts, his teeth were chattering. The faint scent of rancid meat also seemed to permeate his surroundings. After the fog had cleared from his senses, he also became aware of something else: A large doll collection was arranged on shelves against the far wall. Moments later, he heard a sharp metallic clang as the room's large steel door swung inward.

"Look my dear, our guest is awake." Turning towards Xander, Spike then added, "I do hope you're well rested. We have quite an evening planned for you."

Despite the dampness in the room, Xander could feel beads of sweat erupting on his body. He also became aware of the fact that his pulse was racing. Spike couldn't help but smile, realizing that his terror tactics were having their desired effect, no matter what false front the boy tried to erect.

"Oh, Spike. He's wonderful. Can we keep him?"

"What the hell are you saying, you witch? I'm no goddamned pet!"

Raising a finger to her lips, Drusilla indicated that Xander should be quiet. To emphasize the precariousness of his situation, she also started to gently run her fingers down his neck and chest. Impatiently, Spike simply rolled his eyes.

"Shhh. Good dog."

"I'm no dog, you bitch!"

With a lightning fast move, Drusilla then slapped Xander hard across the face while Spike reached out and yanked a handful of the teen's black hair.

"I'm sorry, Dru. I thought this one was housebroken a bit better. Well, no matter, I'll take care of that."

Moving towards a nearby table, Spike quickly removed a cloth covering a variety of ominous-looking objects, including several of what appeared to be old-fashioned railroad spikes and tongs. Now transformed to reveal his true fiendish nature, the male vampire removed a 5-inch spike from the table. Slowly running his thumb over its tip, he visibly winced as it accidentally pierced the skin. After sucking on the wound for a couple of seconds, his broad grin reappeared as he turned back towards his helpless captive.

"Have you ever heard how I got my nickname?"

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end part 1 of 4 Who Wants to Live Forever by Richard Ruth