God Bless the Child...
Disclaimer:
I own no one, and barely anything. All characters belong to either Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, or Panzer/Davis, etc. etc. except for Zada and all the SCA people. Those are actually people from my disturbed mind who have taken over my keyboard from time to time.
Methos sprawled quietly on the couch of his home, listening to music, reading a book when he heard a noise outside of the house. He ignored it at first, then noticed the unmistakable sounds of stealthy movement outside. He didn't feel the presence of another like him, but that didn't mean he wanted to take any chances.
He grabbed his coat and quietly wandered outside, sword out and ready, taking care that the door made no noise. He didn't want to disturb those outside or inside at all.
The moon was nowhere to be found as he made his way around the house, ready for whatever he may find. He caught a glimpse of motion to his right, and went to investigate.
Under the cover of the spreading branches of an oak tree, a young woman walked, on alert to things around her. Methos watched her for a moment, then noticed another figure prowling up behind her.
The figure launched himself at her, and Methos started to run towards her. She spun around at the last instant and hit the other square in the chest with a shaft of wood. The figure fell back, but before it could hit the ground, it burst into dust.
Methos stopped in his tracks, astounded. The girl whipped around and saw him for the first time, and took a defensive stance.
"There's more of you. Great. I leave Sunnydale, and all I find are you bastards. Are you trying to tell me something or what?" She said in an angry, yet flippant tone.
"Pardon?" Methos asked. "You people?"
Without a word, she went into a spin kick and knocked Methos back. "Vampires. Undead Americans, I think the PC term is."
Methos brought the flat of his blade up and blocked the stake that was going for his heart. She was surprised his lanky form held such power.
"Since when did you guys start carrying swords?" she stopped for a moment, then attacked again.
"I'm not what you think I am." He grabbed her wrist and spun her around until he had her in a tight embrace, which with a minimum of effort could become terribly intimate or snap her in two. "And a girl could get into all sorts of trouble wandering around here at two in the morning."
She bucked against him, trying to break free without causing too much permanent injury. She could tell that he was human this close with the heat his body gave off.
He let her loose, brushing his coat straight as she stepped back from him quickly. "What do you want?"
"A cure for cancer." Methos sighed. "I want you to go home, so I can too."
"Okay, fine. You first."
"You must think I look like a trusting soul. I'm not. Go." Methos pointed away from his house.
The girl looked from side to side, then a pained look crossed her face. She stared at her shoes and scuffed the ground.
Recognition flew at Methos. "You don't have a place to go, do you?" He said quietly. He stomped and put his sword back in the makeshift scabbard in his coat. "Dammit."
He began to walk back to the house, and noticed she still stood in place. "Are you coming or not? We can put you up for the night."
The girl stood for a moment longer, then sped up to walk with him. "My name's Bu... Anne."
"Adam. Adam Pierson." He said in the same gruff manner as they walked up to the front door. He noticed the slip with her name, but said nothing of it. If she wanted to go by a false name, so be it. He'd been doing it for centuries himself.
They came into the house and Methos quietly shut the door. "Take care not to make too much noise. My... wife is asleep in the back."
"Not a prob." She looked around, and he pointed to one of the closed doors.
"There's the spare room and it has its own bathroom. I'll make some tea while you get cleaned up."
"Thanks. Really."
"Don't mention it." He turned to the kitchen and mumbled under his breath, "Damn Macleod for reviving my conscience."
Buffy scanned the room unconsciously for any nasties, then plopped down on the bed. What was this guy's racket? Maybe she shouldn't automatically suspect every single person that showed her kindness, but it was a hard habit to break. And there was something about meeting a guy in the middle of the night who carried a sword. And the way his eyes looked so old on his semi-youthful face. It definitely gave her the wiggins.
She stood and walked into the bathroom. Everything in the rooms she had seen so far had told her that the guy's wife had taste, even if it was a bit heavy on the antiques. She automatically assumed it was the woman who decorated, because Adam didn't strike her as one who cared for decorating his surroundings too much, as his wardrobe showed.
The room was decorated in what looked to Buffy's untrained eyes as Turkish, with gilded mirrors and tapestries. It was the nicest place she'd stayed since leaving home. In fact, this woman shared a lot of the same tastes as her mother.
Home. Scattered thoughts like photos ran through her head. All of the friends she had left behind, but the one that hurt the most was her mother. Tears sprang to her eyes thinking of their last conversation.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and her tears slowed. Why in the hell did Adam even bother letting her stay here? She was a mess, her hair in desperate need of conditioner, and her face was smudged with dirt all over. She could tell that she'd lost weight since hitting the road, but it was an extreme way to diet. She looked like one of the undead, and come to think of it, felt that way too.
She decided before anything else to get a shower. She found herself mildly surprised to see everything she would possibly need to be decadent. If nothing else came of staying here, at least she'd be clean.
Methos puttered around the kitchen, trying to find where his off and on again lover had hidden the tea. It wasn't that he didn't drink the stuff, but since Zada and he had moved in together again, he couldn't seem to find anything in this house.
After rifling through every container in the kitchen, he finally came upon the tea as he heard the shower start in the spare room. What was he thinking, bringing a stranger into his home? Yes, she was a slip of a girl, but watching her fight that vampire earlier, he knew she was much stronger than she looked. The sharp pain in his chest confirmed she had broken some ribs, which were healing finally.
Vampires here. Who would have thought? He knew that vampires existed, he had known that for at least a thousand years. But the shock of seeing one dispatched near his property made him uneasy. He hadn't seen one in at least a century, and even then, he wasn't really sure what it was. Being a myth had its own way of making one a skeptic.
He turned when he heard the spare room's door open, and spilled a bit of boiling water on his hand. He swore, and knocked over a cup, which went crashing to the floor.
"Dammit!" he hissed, sucking on the burn for a moment.
"Are you okay?" Buffy said, running up to him and looking at the wound. "That doesn't look too healthy."
"I'll be fine in a moment." He picked up a dishtowel and wrapped his hand up.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." He said more gruffly than he meant. "Now sit down and we'll talk."
They wandered into the main room, which Buffy figured was their living room. Pillows and arabic throws were everywhere, giving an authentic arab feel to the room. It was very strange to her, considering the very conventional and modern kitchen they had just left.
"Beçu?" a feminine voice came from one of the back rooms. "What are you breaking?"
"Zada, what're you doing up?" Methos sprang to his feet in moment.
"Well, after that earth-shattering crash, I'd think most of the neighbors are wondering why they're up." The woman came into the room and noticed Buffy right off. "I see we have a guest."
"Zada, this is Anne. She is in need of a place to stay, and I thought we could put her up for the night." Methos made the introductions, and Buffy noted that every time they looked at each other, sparks seemed to fly back and forth. Whether the sparks were from love or anger, she wasn't sure. Yet they were unnaturally at ease with each other, like they had been together since God was a child.
The woman, Zada, had an unconscious grace that Buffy could only envy, moving through the room to sit on a pile of cushions. She had a small but not slight frame, and the long robe she wore accented her deep olive complexion and pitch black hair.
"So, what brings you to my home in the middle of the night?" she reached to the table and brought a cigarette to her lips.
"Anne and I had an... encounter outside. I went to investigate a noise, and found her." Methos said, not sure how to approach the subject of vampires to her.
"It's amazing what you'll find around here." Zada said, grinning a bit as she lit her cigarette. "You are welcome here as long as you like, Anne. Mi casa es sou casa, to borrow a phrase." She spared a glance and a grin to Methos.
"Thanks, though I'm just passing through." Buffy said, falling into an ease of conversation with them.
"Nonsense. At least stay long enough to get you to a normal weight again. How long have you been on the road?"
"About a month now." Buffy waited for either of them to ask why, but she was surprised that they didn't.
"It can be difficult. Please stay, at least for a few days." Zada said, looking Buffy straight in the face. "You look as though you need it."
Buffy glanced awkwardly at her feet, then straightened to meet Zada's gaze. "Thank you. I haven't been shown all that much kindness since hitting the road."
"De rein, child. It's nothing." Zada looked at Methos for a moment, noticing his look of concern. "We've all had times that we need a bit of kindness." She stood as gracefully as she had sat and said, "Now, if you will pardon me, I must go back to bed."
"Of course." Buffy said brightly. "I'm sorry to have woken you."
"Think nothing of it. I'm glad you did." She stubbed out her cigarette and walked over to Methos. She leaned down to where he sat and grazed his face with her hand.
"I'll be in soon, Tchen." Methos said, his hand catching hers. Buffy almost felt like an intruder watching such heartfelt emotion between those two.
"Well, now that I feel like a third wheel, I think I'll go to bed." Buffy said, stopping before leaving the room. "Thank you both. You don't know how much I appreciate this."
Zada and Methos looked at her with sympathy. She didn't know how, but Buffy knew that they had been in her situation before.
When she finally crawled into the comfortable bed that night, for the first time since she had left home, she slept a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 2
The next morning, Buffy awoke to the sound of raised voices and wood hitting wood outside her window. She jumped from bed, her stance defensive, and moved the heavy curtains aside for a view.
She saw two figures, dressed in a type of overlaying leather armor and metal helms attacking each other with wooden swords that reminded her of kendo swords. She watched them battle each other until one of the figures hit the other squarely in the helm. The loser dropped to the ground, dying gracefully. The victor walked over and removed her helm, showing Zada helping the other up.
She dressed quickly, wanting to know what was going on. She almost raced out of the room and into the living room, where Methos sat listening to music and reading the paper.
"Good morning, Anne. How'd you sleep last night?" he said calmly, folding his paper up.
"G'morning, Adam. What's with the 'Medieval Times' setup back there?" she said, looking out the french doors to the backyard where Zada and her partner were sparring again.
"Ah, sorry, I forgot to tell you." Methos followed her gaze outdoors. "Zada's in a medieval reenactment group. Today is the normal day for her to practice fighting."
"So why aren't you out there? With the way you handled your sword last night, I thought one of them was you."
"It's not my thing." Methos said simply, then stood next to her to watch them spar some more.
"It looks like fun."
"You like bruises, do you?" Methos grinned, then led her outside. They came up on the two in armour, and Methos yelled. "Hold!"
Both fighters simultaneously stopped in mid motion, and Zada removed her helm.
"Hello there, Anne. Did we wake you?" Zada looked like she had been having fun, a wide grin over her face as she breathed heavily.
"No, not really. I was just wondering what you were doing out here. Adam was filling me in." Buffy shrugged, and eyed the wooden swords they used. "What're they made of?"
Zada tossed one without thinking at her and was mildly surprised when she caught the hilt and handled it as though it were a proper sword. "Rattan. Similar to bamboo."
"Cool. There's a really nice weight on this." She tested the reach by swinging it a few times.
"A girl who knows her swords, gotta love it." Zada's sparring partner said as he removed his helm. "I'm Michael. Hasid in the Society." He removed his gauntlet and held out his hand.
Buffy held out her hand, expecting it to be shook, and was surprised when he brushed her knuckle with his lips. "Anne." She said, looking a bit flustered. He looked to be in his late twenties, with long brown hair.
"Michael, this is our houseguest for the next few days." Zada said, pulling off her armour piece by piece.
"Delighted." He said with a grin.
Buffy smiled at this young man, and Zada grinned to herself. "How about some breakfast? I know I'm starved."
"Of course you're starved. You just kicked my ass three times in a row." Michael grinned, shedding his armour. "That would give anyone an appetite."
They wandered into the house, and Zada headed to the back bedrooms to take a shower.
"Is it okay if I borrow your shower, Adam?" Michael said.
"Ask Anne. It's her room at the moment, not yours."
"Milady?" Michael bowed. "I'm in a horrible state."
Buffy laughed and waved towards the spare room. "Sure. Have at it. Cleanliness is next to godliness, I think the phrase is."
"The Roman developed that phrase to try to get people to bathe more frequently." Methos said offhandedly.
"Did it work?" Buffy was intrigued.
"No. The Visigoths that invaded Rome put an end to it rather quickly."
Methos said as he collapsed into a natural sprawl on the couch and picked up the paper he had dropped earlier.
Michael drew Buffy aside and said, "Adam likes to do that to you, start out with an innocuous phrase and give you the exact history of it. I think it comes with the territory of having a masters or something in Classical Studies."
"And I take it you don't get into all that? Even though you do the whole 'I'm a knight' or something out there?" Buffy laughed.
"Hey, I'm a stick-jock, that's all I really know." He laughed with her. "That's why I hang out with Zada and Adam. They make sure I'm clothed properly and I know the names of the Kings and Queens." Michael took a look at the dirty sweats he was wearing and shrugged. "Usually, that is. I better go take my shower now."
"Yeah, that would probably fall under the 'good things' category of life."
Buffy sat down next to Methos and flipped through a magazine as Zada came from the back of the house, he long black hair held up in a tight bun. "Who's up for some breakfast?"
"That's my cue." Methos said, laying down his paper and walking towards the kitchen. Buffy looked on questioningly.
"You don't have to cook, beçu. I can do it." Zada said as she followed him.
"If you're hungry, I'll cook. I remember the last time you tried breakfast. I was just happy that you didn't burn the house down."
"I can cook. That was just a bad day."
"Let's try the words, 'bad centuries'." Methos flinched slightly, expecting the hit to his arm that Zada delivered.
Buffy walked into the kitchen, trying to dispel any fight that was about to happen. "Can I help with anything?"
"Sure!" Zada said, and Buffy noticed that she had a smile on her face. "We'll kick him out of here, and put this as 'women's work'." She said as she began to push Methos out of the kitchen. "Go and read your paper."
"Anne," Methos started as he was being pushed out, "Please tell me you can cook."
"Um, I can try!" She said brightly.
Methos muttered something in a language Buffy didn't understand, then allowed himself to be pushed out of the room by Zada.
"Don't mind him, he decided that I couldn't cook when we first met. Ever since then, he gives me grief every time I walk into a kitchen."
"I could sort of tell with the way you two talk." Buffy helped her pull out eggs and bacon from the refrigerator and they began to cook. "How long have you been together?"
"Centuries." Zada said automatically. "Or at least sometimes it feels that way." she amended quickly. "We end up getting sick of one another, and then we wander off from each other. Then we meet again, and we end up like this." She made her point by flourishing the spatula in her hand around, making Buffy a bit nervous.
Michael came from the spare room and walked up behind Zada, setting his chin on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist.
"So, mom, what're you making?" He said, looking over her shoulder. "Eggs? Are we sure we're up for them?"
Zada slapped his hand with the spatula. "Hush. Go in the other room with the traitor."
"As you wish." Michael said with a grin as he turned to leave.
Buffy waited until the eggs looked about to be burned, then quietly grabbed another spatula and put them on a plate while this exchange took place, taking care not to ruin the bacon that she was in charge of. She wondered to herself why Zada hadn't burn down a house yet.
When everything was all together, they took the plates out to the guys and sat down to eat.
"This is actually good." Methos said, digging into his plate. "Thank you Anne."
Zada shot him a dirty look, then continued eating.
"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Michael said, breaking the silence.
"I need to go out and find some fabric for the Elizabethan I'm working on, but other than that, I'm open. What did you have in mind?"
"Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow your garage for a bit. I need to tweak on my leg armor articulation before the tourney next weekend."
Methos leaned over to Buffy and said, "That's why Michael comes over all the time. To use the makeshift forge in the garage or to be fed."
"He's got a good deal working then." She replied, finishing her plate and getting up. She took Methos' plate with hers and started washing dishes.
Zada followed her and took the dirty dishes from her hands. "Don't worry on that, we'll get them in a bit."
"I just wanted to help. You have been so nice to me, and ..."
"Not a word. I'm glad to help." Zada placed the dishes in the sink and handed Buffy a towel. "Would you like to go with me to the store? I could use another set of hands."
"Thanks. I'd love to."
"De rein. Now, let's get ready to go. I've got to find a period fabric before the stores run through everything and all I can find is some horrible polyester."
Buffy laughed with her, getting to feel very comfortable with this group of people.
Chapter 3
Zada was still a bit perturbed at Methos when they left, especially since he had decided to go with them. They traveled first to the fabric store, and spent two hours in the drapery department, arguing over what fabric Mary Queen of Scots would have worn, given the choice. Buffy thought it was very humourous when they started arguing in different languages, slipping back and forth between English and another language.
"All I'm saying is that she thought she looked horrible in blue." Methos said, tossing his hand away from a certain fabric, which may or may not have been blue, depending upon the observer.
"She wouldn't wear blue because it was the servant's color, don't you remember?" Zada replied, picking up another bolt.
"Um, How do you know that?" Buffy asked, jumping into the conversation.
"I read a lot." Methos said, not skipping a beat. "What about this one?" He said, looking at Zada with yet another bolt.
"That's gorgeous." Buffy said, drawing Zada's attention.
"Now that is beautiful. Let me see the tag." She said, taking the bolt from his hands. She checked the tag, then walked directly over to the trim section.
"Oh, thank you, Adam. Where did you find that?" Methos muttered to himself, almost mimicking Zada's voice.
Buffy laughed at him, then asked, "You two fight like this all the time?"
"Only when we're conscious." They walked over to Zada, who had quickly found some trim and was walking to the checkout.
They purchased the fabric and walked out to the car, Zada taking care to cover the fabric since the sky had begun to drizzle rain.
"We've got one more stop, then I'll have everything for this dress." Zada said when they got into the car. She lit a cigarette, then started the engine.
"Take the shortcut. I don't feel like dealing with the traffic on the highway." Methos said.
"Okay." Zada said, then caught Buffy's reflection in the rearview mirror. "This shouldn't take long, Anne."
"That's fine. I'm not in any hurry." Buffy said, then cringed at the turn that Zada took. She wondered how many accidents she had been in with the way she drove.
"Beçu," Methos began as she took another hairpin turn onto a deserted road. "You might want to slow down."
"Oh, sorry." Zada said, looking at Buffy in the back.
Buffy noticed that they hadn't seen another car since turning onto this road. Dilapidated buildings surrounded the street, and Buffy was reminded of the warehouse district in Sunnydale, just worse. She expected to see some vampires around, lurking in the empty storefronts. Instead, there was just a eerie stillness.
A stoplight halted them temporarily, giving Buffy a better view of the area. Methos and Zada seemed oblivious to their surroundings, bickering at each other in the front of the car. Buffy finally saw a sign of life as a group of four teenagers came out from one of the storefronts towards their car, dressed in gang colors.
"I think we should run this light." Buffy said, breaking into Zada and Methos' bickering.
"Why?" Zada said at the same moment that her driver's side window was shot out by one of the gang, spraying her face and body with shards of glass.
Buffy and Methos instinctively crouched in their seats, Methos trying to drag Zada down with him as she clutched at her face. The gang ran up to the car, Methos shouting at Buffy to run.
"Hell no!" Buffy yelled back, opening her door on the side of the gang, ramming it into one of them. He dropped to the asphalt, clutching his lower torso. One of his friends rushed to him, and Buffy jumped from the car, and hit him in the groin with a dropkick.
Methos at this point had gotten out of the car and had joined her on the side of the car, his sword drawn and attacked the guy with the gun.
"This dude has a sword, Jose!" The kid with the gun said to one of the others. "Este tipo tiene una espada!"
"Usted tiene un arma, Juan! Tírele!" Jose replied back to him, reminding him that he was the one with the gun. "Shoot him!"
Before Juan had a chance to shoot Methos, he knocked the gun from his hand with the flat of the blade, the gun clattering uselessly away from him. Buffy had Jose backing towards the direction the gang had come from, delivering a volley of kicks to his chest. He tried a slashing move with his knife at her leg, giving Buffy a chance to knock it out of his hand.
"Looks like you've run out of weapons. Wanna play another game now?" Buffy said, grinning at him. She glanced over at Methos, who had just slashed out the back of Juan's pants as he began running away. "Oh, look, your friend is running away. I liked him. He's kinda cute, in a 'I'm a Stupid Person with a gun' kinda way."
The guy, Jose, froze for a moment, giving Methos a chance to walk up to them and point his sword at his throat. "Usted desea alguno? Puedo obligarle."
He looked around at his friends that were left, crawling away from Methos and Buffy. "Esta gente está loca, funcionamiento!" Jose yelled, pulling one of his comrades up from the street. "These people are crazy, Run!"
They followed as best they could, and in a moment were out of sight from Methos and Buffy.
"That was extreme. Remind me to drop a note at your visitors center about the hospitality of the locals." Buffy said, drawing a stray hair from her face.
There was a noise from the car, and both of them spun around to see Zada's body partially slipping out of the car.
"Tchen!" Methos yelled, running to the car with Buffy right behind her. Methos dropped to his knees and cradled her head. Buffy saw that quite clearly the bullet that had shattered her window had followed through her temple, killing her. Buffy stood frozen, fear for Methos and his reaction. When he did speak, his voice came out clear and stoic, no emotion expressed in his speech.
"Anne, what I'm about to tell you, you may not believe. You may want to sit down." He began, staring straight at Buffy. She stood for a moment, then sat down on the street as he asked.
"Zada and I are different from the rest of humanity." He said, absentmindedly pushing a hair from Zada's face, still cradled in his lap. "In a few moments, she will breathe again and be alive. You see," he took a breathe, "we are Immortal. We cannot die by any way but one. And this," he gestured at her wound, "is not the one."
Buffy sat there, taking all of what he said in as best she could. Methos thought she was taking it very well, of course, the girl fights vampires, she should be able to deal with this.
Zada breathed at last, her hand automatically going to her temple where the bullet pierced, the flesh fully restored.
"Dammit." She said, trying to rise.
"Not yet, beçu." Methos said, "Give it a moment."
"Where're the bastards?" she coughed, then sat up, leaning on Methos.
"They're gone. Anne and I put the fear of god into them for shooting out the window."
"Gods, Anne!" Zada said, and looked at Buffy. "I didn't... Do you..."
"It's okay, Zada." Buffy said, taking her hand. "Adam explained it to me. I'm not real up on it yet, but I'm totally sympathetic to the whole 'not normal' situation you're both in."
Zada grasped her hand for a moment, looking at her intensely. She dusted herself off then stood with their help.
"Well, let's go then. I think we've had enough excitement for one day." Zada said, then looked into the car. "Gods, look at this! The upholstery is ruined!"
Methos laughed a bit. "It'll clean out."
"This is all your fault, you know that." Zada pushed the pieces of glass onto the street then sat down.
"How's that?"
"You're the one who wanted to take the shortcut."