Disclaimers: Neither the character of Buffy the Vampire Slayer nor the
characters of Highlander belong to me.
A/N: This is written as if it were one of Methos' private journals and takes place after MacLeod tells Methos that they are through during the Horsemen episode. Also, as this is supposed to be someone's journal, there is very little dialog.
A/N 2: I am looking for a beta for my fics. If anyone is interested please let me know. Thanks.
********************
Chapter 1
I'm sure that you have heard many different stories about me and my life. Unfortunately, the majority of them are purely fiction. I too have heard all of the rumors and read all of the Watcher's Chronicles pertaining to my life. While some of the information is correct, in as far as it goes, embellishments abound either by story tellers trying to better capture their audiences attention or by writers who don't know enough facts so they fill their books with supposition and theories about who I am. Everyone seems to have some sort of preconceived idea about how I should think and behave. I have decided to set the record straight. I am not a mythical wise man who sits on the top of a mountain somewhere waiting to dole out wisdom to passing travelers. Nor am I a vicious monster waiting to kill you as soon as your back is turned. Though I can be both, I am just a guy. A guy who is just trying to live his life the best he can. Someone who is simply trying to find happiness. I am Methos and this is my life.
I have lived a long life full of adventure, pain, love, betrayal, and hope. I do not know my true age. I am at least five thousand years old, for that is when my memories begin. I do not know what came before. I have no memories of what kind of life I led, where I was born, or even who my parents were. I don't even know if Methos is my real name. I have done many things and been many people in my long life, some good and some more evil than your worst nightmares. I have watched the world, as the millennia have rolled by, and have both despaired that the world would ever learn from it's past mistakes and rejoiced when I was proven wrong. I have seen both the good and the bad in the world. I have seen things both mythical and common. I have both fought alongside demons and cried as I watched a good man die on a cross on Golgotha. I have been an agent for both the light and the dark.
As the ages have rolled by, I have lived in many interesting times and met many interesting people. But, telling you of these things would only let you know about the person I was then. It will not tell you who I am now. So, I will let history speak for itself and instead tell you about my current life.
Five years ago, I lost the woman I loved to cancer. Though I have loved many women and been married over sixty times, Alexa's death hit me the hardest. I had lost too many people that I loved to time. I vowed to not let it happen again. I sealed off my heart. I would never again love another woman, for mortals were lost too quickly and immortals were eventually lost to the game, no matter how long you were with them.
Around the same time, I lost a dear friend, someone who I believed would be my companion throughout my remaining years. I lost him not to death but to my past. He could not accept the knowledge that I had once been Death, the fourth Horseman Of The Apocalypse. He told me we were through.
Alone once again, I decided to honor Alexa's memory and become a doctor once more. With that in mind I decided to move away from the cold and the rain of both Seacouver and Paris. I found myself in southern California, in a small town called Sunnydale, going by the name of Adam Benjamin. I was to be the new head of Emergency at Sunnydale General.
Two weeks later, I was living a life that was busier than it had ever been before. Though Sunnydale was a small town, it had an emergency room that was more active and more equipped than some of the biggest hospitals in L.A. My days were filled trying to settle into my new life and my nights were filled with constant trauma patients.
In the following years I discovered that the town rests on a temporal disturbance called the Hellmouth. It is routed in magic and filled with the forces of evil. Thankfully it is also home to the current Slayer. That leaves me time to treat my patients and broaden my knowledge of the occult, without feeling the need to be the town's protector. I have met many Slayers in my day and I admire them greatly. However, I have no desire to involve myself with the current chosen one, for her life like all those before her will be short and painful.
*****
Five years passed and I was still in my roll as Chief of Emergency. Though those years were filled with new faces and bustling activity, I was lonelier than I had ever been before. Despite having met many new people, I continued to keep myself separate from them. My staff had long since stopped their efforts to befriend me, unwilling to endure my cutting sarcasm. I was viewed as a brilliant doctor but a hard and unemotional man. The only people who I allowed myself to care for were my patients; them I treated with the utmost care and compassion. Little did I know that my vow to remain detached and uninvolved was to be shattered in one night's time.
It was a Friday night and we were enduring one of the few slow days that I had experienced since moving here. It was as if the forces of evil had decided to give us a night off. Instead of being relieved, I was apprehensive, knowing that something was going to happen but not knowing what. Suddenly, a loud disturbance broke me from my thoughts. A young man appearing to be in his twenty's burst through the door. As soon as I laid eyes on him, I felt drawn to him and knew that my life was about to change. He was slightly shorter than I am with a slim muscular build, pale complexion, and bleached blonde hair. The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew that he was a vampire, a demon inhabiting a corpse. I had run into his kind many times in the past and fear and death always followed them. Despite this, I didn't feel the urge to watch my back and get ready for a fight. Something was telling me that this one was different, that he meant me no harm.
I was shaken out of my perusal when I noticed the body he was carefully cradling in his arms. A beautiful young man, in his early twenty's with dark brown hair, was held in his protective embrace. They were both covered in blood and the blonde was screaming, demanding that someone come help his friend.
Rushing to the two men, I tried to find out what had happened. "Sir, I need you to calm down. Lay him down here so the other doctors can take care of him and tell me what happened."
The blonde snarled at me as he complied. "We were attacked near the park. He's lost a lot of blood."
With just one look, I knew that the boy would not survive his wounds. I also realized that before the night was over he would begin his new life as an immortal. Leading the vampire away, I decided to get some more information. "What are your names?"
"I'm Spike. The whelp's name is Xander Harris," he said with a wince, drawing my attention to several wounds on his chest.
"Well Spike, my name is Dr. Benjamin. If you will just sit over here, I'll take care of your wounds." As I stitched up the deep cuts on his chest, I decided to throw caution to the wind and ask the questions that were puzzling me. "What are you doing with the boy? Why do you care what happens to him?"
"Oy, what do you mean, mate?" Spike asked in an affronted tone.
"You're a vampire. Why would a vampire care what happens to a human boy?" Seeing the puzzled look on the blonde's face I explained, "I've been around a long time. I've seen your kind before. Though, I've never seen one that cared for a human, other than for food."
"Let's just say that he's a friend of the slayer's. I don't feel like waking up with a stake in me heart." Spike tried to sound indifferent, but I could see the worry in his eyes and it intrigued me. After all, vampires are soulless demons and in all my years I've never heard of one who not only seemed to care for humans but also knew the slayer.
"Is the whelp going to be okay?"
Seeing the hidden worry in the vampire's eyes, I went against my better judgment and confided in him. "No, he won't. However, we might still be able to help him."
As the night progressed, I had Xander transferred to a private room. I did not want anyone to be present to witness his death and subsequent resurrection. Once he was settled, I explained our immortality to Spike and he in turn explained how he came to be working with the slayer and her friends. I immediately sympathized with his plight. After all, in my long life, I too had been both experimented on and been a blood thirsty killer. I was very gratified to find out that this Initiative, that he feared so greatly, had been shut down. I had no desire to once again become someone's lab rat.
Knowing that we didn't have much time to plan, I had Spike tell me exactly what happened that night. They had started out with a group of people Spike referred to as the Scoobies. The Scoobies evidently fought the evil that thrived here and consisted of the slayer, a watcher, two witches and Xander. Soon after meeting, they had split up to patrol the town. Xander, being left out from his friends, teamed up with Spike and they covered the cemeteries and warehouses on the south side of Sunnydale. They had been in a deserted part of town and where headed home when a demon suddenly appeared in front of them. It stabbed Xander through the abdomen and slashed Spike across his chest when he leapt forward to defend him. It then disappeared right in front of their eyes.
Throughout his story, Spike made derogatory comments about what he referred to as 'Xander's so called friends'. When I questioned him about this he told me about Xander's life here. Apparently Xander had grown up in a home with drunken parents who had abused him, both physically and sexually. The only person who had known of the abuses, his best friend Jesse, had been killed by vampires and later staked by Xander himself when they were only sixteen years old. From that time on, Xander had been alone. His other friends never bothered to question why Xander was constantly sporting bruises, cuts, burns, or casts. Instead, they made jokes about how clumsy or careless he was. When he was so exhausted from fighting off his father and uncle that he couldn't stay awake in school the next day, they laughed about how lazy he was. When they went up against a new evil and didn't watch his back, causing him to be injured, they criticized him for not being able to fight the demon's off instead of teaching him how to better defend himself. When he constantly lost jobs because he was too sore to move after being brutally raped the night before, they said that he couldn't do anything right. When he disappeared for several months as a result of a whipping that should have left him dead, but had left him hospitalized instead, they didn't even notice.
As Spike talked, I felt an almost overpowering rage building inside of me. I hadn't felt a hatred so black since my time with the Horsemen. My first desire was to hunt down both his friends and his family and cause them to experience all of the fear, pain and self-loathing that Xander had had to endure. The only thing that held me back was my certainty that Xander would not welcome my action. After all, Spike had mentioned how fiercely he would attack those who dared to injure those he loved, no matter how undeserving they were.
By the time Spike finally stopped talking, I was determined to protect Xander from everyone he had known before. I decided that no one, other than Spike and myself, could be trusted to know of Xander's immortality. We would do anything we had to do in order to shield him from any more hurt. With that in mind we began to develop a plan that would allow Xander to learn everything that he needed to know without anyone else finding out. Under the guise of hiring Xander to help me renovate my new house, I would train Xander in the privacy of my own home. My basement had already been transformed into a training salle, it would fit our purposes perfectly. Spike would move into one of my spare rooms and I would supply him with 'blood and smokes' while he would help me to train Xander to fight. In addition to fighting, we would teach him everything we knew, from art and literature to history, from prophecy to the occult. By the time we were finished with him, he would be able to survive any situation imaginable and be able to thrive in any environment no matter how hostile or decadent. I was determined that if I was going to take on a new student, that he would survive, no matter what.
*****
Xander held on longer than I had expected. He fought to survive with a tenacity unlike any I had ever seen before. Though he was strong, he wasn't strong enough. At ten a.m. on Monday morning, Xander Lavelle Harris died. The only witness to this tragedy were Spike and myself. He was dead for less than an hour. I was astonished. This boy was more powerful than immortals ten times his age. The shortest time I have ever heard of for an immortal's first death was over eighteen hours. I knew, with a certainty that coursed through my soul, that this young man would be a force to be reckoned with.
In the hours after his revival, I explained to him the circumstances of his new life. I told him of the game, that it was invented a long time ago by the Council of Watchers, believing us to be demons, in a bid to destroy us from within and as a result other immortals would try to take his head and with it his quickening. I told him of the rules that would now govern his existence, that all fights were one on one and that holy ground was his only refuge. I told him of the Watchers, that there were mortals who knew of our existence and tried to record our lives, I silently swore to do everything I could to keep him from their prying eyes. I told him that he was a foundling and could not have children, his relief upon finding out that the people who raised him were not his parents was palpable.
Two hours later, we were on our way home. At first, Xander was surprised by my insistence that he move in with me, but with Spike's assistance he soon accepted the inevitable. It was just as well, because Spike and I had no intention of allowing him to live in his parent's basement for even one more minute.
*****
In the days that followed, we quickly established a routine. Xander and I would get up at five a.m. for a morning run and a meditative kata. I would then fix breakfast, I quickly learned that if given the opportunity Xander could probably burn water. While we ate, we would read the paper and analyze the various stories and discuss how it would affect our lives and how it compared to times in the past. It was during these discussion that I realized just how quick Xander was. He never forgot anything and on more than one occasion I found myself scrambling to keep up or being backed into a corner and having to struggle to defend my position.
After breakfast, I would leave for the hospital and Xander would work on constructing a new bookcase or table for me. He felt that he had to earn his keep, no matter how many times I insisted that it was unnecessary. Around noon, Spike would wake up and take over Xander's studies. They did not follow any set schedule, instead they would pick a topic a run with it, it could be a certain work of literature, a new demonic language, military history, or even the impact of Passions, Spike's favorite show, on the current culture of America. Their discussions would often last until I came home from work, each determined to get the other to see things their way.
When I would arrive home from work, we would all move into the kitchen and make supper together. Xander would cut and chop what ever was needed, I would do the cooking and Spike would prepare a dessert fit for a king. We would usually use this time to relax and enjoy just being together, refusing to discuss anything more serious than what wine tasted best with what food. It was a time for us to be together without any of the stress of the outside world interfering.
After supper, we would move to the basement and work on Xander's fighting ability. Spike and I had decided that he should master hand to hand combat before introducing weapons to his training. The fighting was the hardest thing for Xander to learn. I struggled for a long time trying to figure out why, after all he was naturally graceful and carried himself with a strength that was easy to see so the moves inherent in the various disciplines should be easy for him to learn. After many discussions we finally discovered what the problem was. Apparently, Xander had been possessed twice before. Once, by the spirit of a hyena and once by a soldier. It seemed that when Xander fought it brought them closer to the surface and he was instinctively fighting them, fearing that he would once again be taken over by them. This conflict was preventing him from embracing the training that we were trying to introduce. It took us a while, but we finally got him to understand that he was firmly in control and that he should use the instincts and knowledge of both the hyena and soldier to his advantage. Once Xander came to accept all of himself, even the parts that scared him, he began to excel in the various techniques. He was a natural, I have never before seen anyone with such control over his body and with such an instinctive understanding of what was technically a foreign pursuit.
When we were finished for the day, usually around two hours later, we would settle down in the den and just enjoy each others company. We would spread out and find something to read or discuss or just sit quietly gazing into a warm fire and savor the warm companionship we had forged together. We would stay there until Xander and I got tired and wandered off to bed and Spike headed out for a few hours of fun and mayhem. I had come to cherish these times of the day and would not give it up for anything or anyone.
This schedule repeated itself every day except on Saturdays and Sundays. Those were our days to have fun. Xander and I would head out bright and early to do whatever stuck our fancy that day, whether it be going to the beach, visiting a museum, driving to neighboring town and sight seeing or simply going out into my private yard and enjoying the sunlight. At night, since Xander refused to leave the demon fighting completely to others, we would all go out for a nice dinner before splitting up. Xander would go visit his friends and Spike and I, refusing to leave him to once again be hurt by them, would lurk outside of the watcher's house, ready to burst in and kill his friends or just steal him away to safety if things got too bad. Once they split up for patrolling and they once again left Xander on his own, Spike and I would join him and we would finish up our night with a nice stroll around Sunnydale, killing whatever demons we happened to run across.
This routine continued as the days went on and as the days progress so did our new lives. Some days were heaven and some were pure hell, but I will never regret the struggle and effort we invested to insure that this new fragile friendship would stand the test of time.
TBC
A/N: This is written as if it were one of Methos' private journals and takes place after MacLeod tells Methos that they are through during the Horsemen episode. Also, as this is supposed to be someone's journal, there is very little dialog.
A/N 2: I am looking for a beta for my fics. If anyone is interested please let me know. Thanks.
********************
Chapter 1
I'm sure that you have heard many different stories about me and my life. Unfortunately, the majority of them are purely fiction. I too have heard all of the rumors and read all of the Watcher's Chronicles pertaining to my life. While some of the information is correct, in as far as it goes, embellishments abound either by story tellers trying to better capture their audiences attention or by writers who don't know enough facts so they fill their books with supposition and theories about who I am. Everyone seems to have some sort of preconceived idea about how I should think and behave. I have decided to set the record straight. I am not a mythical wise man who sits on the top of a mountain somewhere waiting to dole out wisdom to passing travelers. Nor am I a vicious monster waiting to kill you as soon as your back is turned. Though I can be both, I am just a guy. A guy who is just trying to live his life the best he can. Someone who is simply trying to find happiness. I am Methos and this is my life.
I have lived a long life full of adventure, pain, love, betrayal, and hope. I do not know my true age. I am at least five thousand years old, for that is when my memories begin. I do not know what came before. I have no memories of what kind of life I led, where I was born, or even who my parents were. I don't even know if Methos is my real name. I have done many things and been many people in my long life, some good and some more evil than your worst nightmares. I have watched the world, as the millennia have rolled by, and have both despaired that the world would ever learn from it's past mistakes and rejoiced when I was proven wrong. I have seen both the good and the bad in the world. I have seen things both mythical and common. I have both fought alongside demons and cried as I watched a good man die on a cross on Golgotha. I have been an agent for both the light and the dark.
As the ages have rolled by, I have lived in many interesting times and met many interesting people. But, telling you of these things would only let you know about the person I was then. It will not tell you who I am now. So, I will let history speak for itself and instead tell you about my current life.
Five years ago, I lost the woman I loved to cancer. Though I have loved many women and been married over sixty times, Alexa's death hit me the hardest. I had lost too many people that I loved to time. I vowed to not let it happen again. I sealed off my heart. I would never again love another woman, for mortals were lost too quickly and immortals were eventually lost to the game, no matter how long you were with them.
Around the same time, I lost a dear friend, someone who I believed would be my companion throughout my remaining years. I lost him not to death but to my past. He could not accept the knowledge that I had once been Death, the fourth Horseman Of The Apocalypse. He told me we were through.
Alone once again, I decided to honor Alexa's memory and become a doctor once more. With that in mind I decided to move away from the cold and the rain of both Seacouver and Paris. I found myself in southern California, in a small town called Sunnydale, going by the name of Adam Benjamin. I was to be the new head of Emergency at Sunnydale General.
Two weeks later, I was living a life that was busier than it had ever been before. Though Sunnydale was a small town, it had an emergency room that was more active and more equipped than some of the biggest hospitals in L.A. My days were filled trying to settle into my new life and my nights were filled with constant trauma patients.
In the following years I discovered that the town rests on a temporal disturbance called the Hellmouth. It is routed in magic and filled with the forces of evil. Thankfully it is also home to the current Slayer. That leaves me time to treat my patients and broaden my knowledge of the occult, without feeling the need to be the town's protector. I have met many Slayers in my day and I admire them greatly. However, I have no desire to involve myself with the current chosen one, for her life like all those before her will be short and painful.
*****
Five years passed and I was still in my roll as Chief of Emergency. Though those years were filled with new faces and bustling activity, I was lonelier than I had ever been before. Despite having met many new people, I continued to keep myself separate from them. My staff had long since stopped their efforts to befriend me, unwilling to endure my cutting sarcasm. I was viewed as a brilliant doctor but a hard and unemotional man. The only people who I allowed myself to care for were my patients; them I treated with the utmost care and compassion. Little did I know that my vow to remain detached and uninvolved was to be shattered in one night's time.
It was a Friday night and we were enduring one of the few slow days that I had experienced since moving here. It was as if the forces of evil had decided to give us a night off. Instead of being relieved, I was apprehensive, knowing that something was going to happen but not knowing what. Suddenly, a loud disturbance broke me from my thoughts. A young man appearing to be in his twenty's burst through the door. As soon as I laid eyes on him, I felt drawn to him and knew that my life was about to change. He was slightly shorter than I am with a slim muscular build, pale complexion, and bleached blonde hair. The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew that he was a vampire, a demon inhabiting a corpse. I had run into his kind many times in the past and fear and death always followed them. Despite this, I didn't feel the urge to watch my back and get ready for a fight. Something was telling me that this one was different, that he meant me no harm.
I was shaken out of my perusal when I noticed the body he was carefully cradling in his arms. A beautiful young man, in his early twenty's with dark brown hair, was held in his protective embrace. They were both covered in blood and the blonde was screaming, demanding that someone come help his friend.
Rushing to the two men, I tried to find out what had happened. "Sir, I need you to calm down. Lay him down here so the other doctors can take care of him and tell me what happened."
The blonde snarled at me as he complied. "We were attacked near the park. He's lost a lot of blood."
With just one look, I knew that the boy would not survive his wounds. I also realized that before the night was over he would begin his new life as an immortal. Leading the vampire away, I decided to get some more information. "What are your names?"
"I'm Spike. The whelp's name is Xander Harris," he said with a wince, drawing my attention to several wounds on his chest.
"Well Spike, my name is Dr. Benjamin. If you will just sit over here, I'll take care of your wounds." As I stitched up the deep cuts on his chest, I decided to throw caution to the wind and ask the questions that were puzzling me. "What are you doing with the boy? Why do you care what happens to him?"
"Oy, what do you mean, mate?" Spike asked in an affronted tone.
"You're a vampire. Why would a vampire care what happens to a human boy?" Seeing the puzzled look on the blonde's face I explained, "I've been around a long time. I've seen your kind before. Though, I've never seen one that cared for a human, other than for food."
"Let's just say that he's a friend of the slayer's. I don't feel like waking up with a stake in me heart." Spike tried to sound indifferent, but I could see the worry in his eyes and it intrigued me. After all, vampires are soulless demons and in all my years I've never heard of one who not only seemed to care for humans but also knew the slayer.
"Is the whelp going to be okay?"
Seeing the hidden worry in the vampire's eyes, I went against my better judgment and confided in him. "No, he won't. However, we might still be able to help him."
As the night progressed, I had Xander transferred to a private room. I did not want anyone to be present to witness his death and subsequent resurrection. Once he was settled, I explained our immortality to Spike and he in turn explained how he came to be working with the slayer and her friends. I immediately sympathized with his plight. After all, in my long life, I too had been both experimented on and been a blood thirsty killer. I was very gratified to find out that this Initiative, that he feared so greatly, had been shut down. I had no desire to once again become someone's lab rat.
Knowing that we didn't have much time to plan, I had Spike tell me exactly what happened that night. They had started out with a group of people Spike referred to as the Scoobies. The Scoobies evidently fought the evil that thrived here and consisted of the slayer, a watcher, two witches and Xander. Soon after meeting, they had split up to patrol the town. Xander, being left out from his friends, teamed up with Spike and they covered the cemeteries and warehouses on the south side of Sunnydale. They had been in a deserted part of town and where headed home when a demon suddenly appeared in front of them. It stabbed Xander through the abdomen and slashed Spike across his chest when he leapt forward to defend him. It then disappeared right in front of their eyes.
Throughout his story, Spike made derogatory comments about what he referred to as 'Xander's so called friends'. When I questioned him about this he told me about Xander's life here. Apparently Xander had grown up in a home with drunken parents who had abused him, both physically and sexually. The only person who had known of the abuses, his best friend Jesse, had been killed by vampires and later staked by Xander himself when they were only sixteen years old. From that time on, Xander had been alone. His other friends never bothered to question why Xander was constantly sporting bruises, cuts, burns, or casts. Instead, they made jokes about how clumsy or careless he was. When he was so exhausted from fighting off his father and uncle that he couldn't stay awake in school the next day, they laughed about how lazy he was. When they went up against a new evil and didn't watch his back, causing him to be injured, they criticized him for not being able to fight the demon's off instead of teaching him how to better defend himself. When he constantly lost jobs because he was too sore to move after being brutally raped the night before, they said that he couldn't do anything right. When he disappeared for several months as a result of a whipping that should have left him dead, but had left him hospitalized instead, they didn't even notice.
As Spike talked, I felt an almost overpowering rage building inside of me. I hadn't felt a hatred so black since my time with the Horsemen. My first desire was to hunt down both his friends and his family and cause them to experience all of the fear, pain and self-loathing that Xander had had to endure. The only thing that held me back was my certainty that Xander would not welcome my action. After all, Spike had mentioned how fiercely he would attack those who dared to injure those he loved, no matter how undeserving they were.
By the time Spike finally stopped talking, I was determined to protect Xander from everyone he had known before. I decided that no one, other than Spike and myself, could be trusted to know of Xander's immortality. We would do anything we had to do in order to shield him from any more hurt. With that in mind we began to develop a plan that would allow Xander to learn everything that he needed to know without anyone else finding out. Under the guise of hiring Xander to help me renovate my new house, I would train Xander in the privacy of my own home. My basement had already been transformed into a training salle, it would fit our purposes perfectly. Spike would move into one of my spare rooms and I would supply him with 'blood and smokes' while he would help me to train Xander to fight. In addition to fighting, we would teach him everything we knew, from art and literature to history, from prophecy to the occult. By the time we were finished with him, he would be able to survive any situation imaginable and be able to thrive in any environment no matter how hostile or decadent. I was determined that if I was going to take on a new student, that he would survive, no matter what.
*****
Xander held on longer than I had expected. He fought to survive with a tenacity unlike any I had ever seen before. Though he was strong, he wasn't strong enough. At ten a.m. on Monday morning, Xander Lavelle Harris died. The only witness to this tragedy were Spike and myself. He was dead for less than an hour. I was astonished. This boy was more powerful than immortals ten times his age. The shortest time I have ever heard of for an immortal's first death was over eighteen hours. I knew, with a certainty that coursed through my soul, that this young man would be a force to be reckoned with.
In the hours after his revival, I explained to him the circumstances of his new life. I told him of the game, that it was invented a long time ago by the Council of Watchers, believing us to be demons, in a bid to destroy us from within and as a result other immortals would try to take his head and with it his quickening. I told him of the rules that would now govern his existence, that all fights were one on one and that holy ground was his only refuge. I told him of the Watchers, that there were mortals who knew of our existence and tried to record our lives, I silently swore to do everything I could to keep him from their prying eyes. I told him that he was a foundling and could not have children, his relief upon finding out that the people who raised him were not his parents was palpable.
Two hours later, we were on our way home. At first, Xander was surprised by my insistence that he move in with me, but with Spike's assistance he soon accepted the inevitable. It was just as well, because Spike and I had no intention of allowing him to live in his parent's basement for even one more minute.
*****
In the days that followed, we quickly established a routine. Xander and I would get up at five a.m. for a morning run and a meditative kata. I would then fix breakfast, I quickly learned that if given the opportunity Xander could probably burn water. While we ate, we would read the paper and analyze the various stories and discuss how it would affect our lives and how it compared to times in the past. It was during these discussion that I realized just how quick Xander was. He never forgot anything and on more than one occasion I found myself scrambling to keep up or being backed into a corner and having to struggle to defend my position.
After breakfast, I would leave for the hospital and Xander would work on constructing a new bookcase or table for me. He felt that he had to earn his keep, no matter how many times I insisted that it was unnecessary. Around noon, Spike would wake up and take over Xander's studies. They did not follow any set schedule, instead they would pick a topic a run with it, it could be a certain work of literature, a new demonic language, military history, or even the impact of Passions, Spike's favorite show, on the current culture of America. Their discussions would often last until I came home from work, each determined to get the other to see things their way.
When I would arrive home from work, we would all move into the kitchen and make supper together. Xander would cut and chop what ever was needed, I would do the cooking and Spike would prepare a dessert fit for a king. We would usually use this time to relax and enjoy just being together, refusing to discuss anything more serious than what wine tasted best with what food. It was a time for us to be together without any of the stress of the outside world interfering.
After supper, we would move to the basement and work on Xander's fighting ability. Spike and I had decided that he should master hand to hand combat before introducing weapons to his training. The fighting was the hardest thing for Xander to learn. I struggled for a long time trying to figure out why, after all he was naturally graceful and carried himself with a strength that was easy to see so the moves inherent in the various disciplines should be easy for him to learn. After many discussions we finally discovered what the problem was. Apparently, Xander had been possessed twice before. Once, by the spirit of a hyena and once by a soldier. It seemed that when Xander fought it brought them closer to the surface and he was instinctively fighting them, fearing that he would once again be taken over by them. This conflict was preventing him from embracing the training that we were trying to introduce. It took us a while, but we finally got him to understand that he was firmly in control and that he should use the instincts and knowledge of both the hyena and soldier to his advantage. Once Xander came to accept all of himself, even the parts that scared him, he began to excel in the various techniques. He was a natural, I have never before seen anyone with such control over his body and with such an instinctive understanding of what was technically a foreign pursuit.
When we were finished for the day, usually around two hours later, we would settle down in the den and just enjoy each others company. We would spread out and find something to read or discuss or just sit quietly gazing into a warm fire and savor the warm companionship we had forged together. We would stay there until Xander and I got tired and wandered off to bed and Spike headed out for a few hours of fun and mayhem. I had come to cherish these times of the day and would not give it up for anything or anyone.
This schedule repeated itself every day except on Saturdays and Sundays. Those were our days to have fun. Xander and I would head out bright and early to do whatever stuck our fancy that day, whether it be going to the beach, visiting a museum, driving to neighboring town and sight seeing or simply going out into my private yard and enjoying the sunlight. At night, since Xander refused to leave the demon fighting completely to others, we would all go out for a nice dinner before splitting up. Xander would go visit his friends and Spike and I, refusing to leave him to once again be hurt by them, would lurk outside of the watcher's house, ready to burst in and kill his friends or just steal him away to safety if things got too bad. Once they split up for patrolling and they once again left Xander on his own, Spike and I would join him and we would finish up our night with a nice stroll around Sunnydale, killing whatever demons we happened to run across.
This routine continued as the days went on and as the days progress so did our new lives. Some days were heaven and some were pure hell, but I will never regret the struggle and effort we invested to insure that this new fragile friendship would stand the test of time.
TBC