Chapter 28
To Face The Consequences Of Challenging Death
Joyce didn't know what she was meant to think, or how she was meant to react. She had said it herself, on the night that she had found out about who he was.
"My God, how do I even know that Adam is your real name?"
She had been right in her doubts. It wasn't.
Now she found out that his name was Methos.
And if Giles had gone white, then Buffy had lost a little colour herself. She was remembering one night, when she had spent hours hitting the books, in an effort to find out about a cult of people who were trying to resurrect the Four Horsemen, and bring about the apocalypse.
"Hey, Giles, listen to this. 'For he is as old as time it's self. He was there at the start of everything, and he will be there at the end. It was he, who struck fear into the hearts of all that dared to face him, and he exists only to act as the deaths of others. Thousands of men feel during his reign, which was an age of blood and death. None that saw his face ever lived to tell of it. He is true power, and Death alike, and his name is Methos. As the most savage of the Horsemen, he…"
She trailed off, as Giles glanced at the book over her shoulder, and flipped it over to see the cover.
"That's good work, Buffy," he said, as he scanned through a few more of the pages, coming to a halt a few pages after the passage she had read out. The title at the head of the page was 'The Cult of the Four.'
"Damn it," Ethan was berating himself, over what he'd just gone and done, "I am so dead."
"No," Buffy half-whispered, almost as a plea, "My father can't be Methos."
Ethan looked at her, "Your father?" he said, in a tone of voice that would have been adequate if she had just told him that she knew how to make the sum implode, "That really is impossible –Although, yes, he really is Methos. He does tend to limit the number of people that know, though. Probably wanted you to get to know him first. Now, don't suppose you'd like to tell me why he believes he's your father."
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As she felt the spell working, she heard a voice whispering to her, the brush of another power touching against her own.
Tell Methos that The Lady sends her greetings.
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He walked, in the manner of a determined man. No one would dare to cross his path tonight, for fear of attracting his attention, and with it, his wrath.
No one would ever get away with hurting one of those few people that he cared for. Ever.
"Methos, what in the seven circles of hell is going on?"
As he drew closer, he let himself think back on what had just happened. He had just been out-ed, and the Watcher had recognized his name instantly.
It was bound to have happened sooner or later, but he would have preferred it to have been in a couple of centuries time, when Buffy and Joyce would have been able to understand why he hid whom he was.
There was no taking it back now, though. It was done, and he would just have to live with it, for better or for worse.
He turned towards Jenny's apartment, and, without breaking stride, went for the door handle. He was surprised when it turned with ease. But then, why bother locking up when the place was warded against all intruders?
With all of the latent power that he had gained over the years, all that he felt on passing through them, however, was a minor irritation.
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The feeling of someone breaching the wards dragged her out of her trance, and back to reality.
She stood, and as went to turn she felt something that was cold, and hard, and metal striking at the side of her head, and she blacked out.
When she came to, it was to find Adam standing over her.
Terror, unrivalled by anything that she had ever experienced before, shot through her. Because the expression in his eyes didn't look anything like human. They were cold, and totally unfeeling of any compassion and he stared through her rather than at her.
When he spoke, his voice carried the same ice-chill tone.
"You are Jenny Calendar, also known as Yana, of the Kalderdash people, and member of the Watchers' organization. Do you know who I am?"
His words were conversational. The way he delivered them, not so.
"A…A…Adam Pierson. You used to be a Watcher, until you were found out as an Immortal."
She would have to think fast, if she wanted to get out of this.
"Half-marks," he growled, as he glared at her, "That's a part of who I am. Now, do you know who I really am, Watcher?"
"Who…Who…Who you really are?"
"Well, I knew the answer to that before I asked you. If you knew who I really was, then you'd have left well enough alone."
"W-Who?" She swallowed, as she asked.
"I'm asking the questions. How do I break the spell, Watcher?"
She found a little of her courage again, and met his cold gaze for a few seconds, "Why should I tell you?"
"Found some back-bone, hmm? Because if you don't then you will die, very slowly, and you will know the true meaning of agony before you do."
No need to mention that telling him would only earn her a fast death.
The moment drew out, and her grasped her around the throat, and slowly started to tighten his grasp. Again, terror took her, and she started to writhe, and struggle in his grasp.
As she began to claw at his fingers, he loosened up for a heartbeat, so that she could have her chance to talk.
"Rikuets' Binding," she gasped, and a cold smile stole over his face.
"Good girl." If he killed her then the spell would break automatically.
He tightened his grasp again. It had been a while since he had killed a mortal. Since he'd had to kill a mortal. But it was something that he felt no reluctance about. She had hurt what was his, and she had to pay the price.
He would warn Buffy about letting things get too far with Angelus himself. Not that there would be much further opportunity for that once they were out of the country.
He pause, and looked her in the eye, "You deserve my name, at least. It's the way things are done, since I'm going to end your life."
"But you said that if I told you…"
"I said that if you didn't you would die slowly. You have, so you get to die fast, instead. As for who I am –I'm your worst nightmare made flesh. I am the legend that your people whisper about to make children behave. When you challenged me, you signed away your own life. I was the pale rider, when the four horsemen rode the earth. Can you guess my name?"
She didn't answer, even though she had the air to. Her eyes were wide, and rounded, with panic.
"I am Methos. And you are dead."
In a last ditch attempt to save herself, the whisper that she had been given came to mind.
"Wait!" the word exploded out of her, and she threw up her hands, trying to force him away, "I was told… I was told to let you know that The Lady sends her greetings."
He gave no indication that he'd heard, as he grabbed her by the throat again. Just before she blacked out, she managed to gasp a few last words, which she put to the best use that she could.
"See you in hell."
Again he smiled at her, coldly.
"Not for a long time yet, Watcher."
He turned to leave, and found a young-looking woman, with almond-shaped eyes, and dark skin coming into the room behind him.
She lunged at him with perfect speed and grace, swinging her legs into a high kick, as she got to where he was.
And she went straight past her mark, because it was now where he wasn't.
He had stepped to one side, and, as she went past him, he slammed his hand into her back, adding to her momentum, and slamming her down.
She struck the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her lungs, and yet she still managed to use the force of her impact to flip forward, and come up on her feet, spinning to face him again.
There was a serious smile on her face, like she was enjoying the fight, even though she had just seen him kill one woman, and didn't know for sure that he wouldn't kill her, too.
She came towards him, and in one smooth move, he hooked one leg around her ankle, and unbalanced her too fast for her to do anything about it. This time, as she went down he made sure to put his boot onto her throat the second she hit, even though he was careful not to put any weight on it. And, not taking his eyes off of her, he reached into his jacket and drew his sword, which he angled towards her heart, as he took his foot away.
"Now, I am not in a good mood tonight. I want answers, and I want them fast, if you wish to survive the night."
"Pah," she spat at him, "You tink dat death is frightening to me? If you kill me den another will take my place."
This is interesting.
"Who are you?" he asked, in an attempt to take control of the conversation again, and pressing his sword down a little, do drive the threat home.
"I am Kendra. The Vampire Slayer."
Well, it did make some sense. Buffy was Immortal, so she must have died at some point.
All of a sudden, in spite of himself, he began to chuckle. This is just perfect, he thought.
Who would have thought it? It was another Slayer here, one who could take things over on the Hellmouth.
He could get his family out of here. If he could convince them of his sincerity, that was –If he hadn't lost their trust completely.
He dropped his sword, and slid it smoothly back into place.
"You and I are on the same team, in a manner of speaking," he held out a hand, to help her up, and she looked at it warily, unsure of if it was some sort of ploy.
"But I just saw you kill dat woman."
"And that woman was using magick, to hurt someone that I cared for. I couldn't let him suffer, and the only way to break the spell was to kill her. I'm sorry at the loss of life, but it was the only option that was left to me. If there had been any other way…"
He could do the whole 'sincere' act very well. After all, he'd had a few years to practise it.
Again, he held out his hand, and this time she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXRichie looked back at Duncan, and then down to the hand grasping at his elbow. There was unease written on every line of his features.
His heart began to gallop in his chest, like a runaway racehorse.
This was going to be it.
He was going to lose his head, this time.
MacLeod had every reason to kill him, now. Before, when he had no reason to, he had tried to. And now, he had told him that he had as good as betrayed him, in order to get an unfair chance at his head.
He didn't have the energy, or the will, to fight with him any longer.
They may have just fought side by side, but that didn't undo there past history.
He closed his eyes, not bothering to go for his sword, which he had just sheathed again. He tilted his head back, to give him a clear shot at his neck, so that this time he wouldn't have to live with the fear and pain that he had gone through before, the last time he had barely survived MacLeod's attack.
"Just make it quick and clean, Mac. That's all that I'm gonna ask of you."
Duncan looked at the young man standing before him with an expression of disbelief on his face, and pity and sorrow in his heart. He still honestly thinks that I'm going to kill him, he thought to himself.
Then, without giving himself to consider whether it was the wrong move or not, he took a tiny step towards him, and hugged him to his chest.
In spite of his hard words, the young man was shaking something fierce.
He had never had much of a defence against affection, and coddling, and that obviously was something that hadn't changed even in spite of, or perhaps even because of everything else that had.
He broke down, sobs shaking his body.
He had been prepared to give up his life, only seconds before. But this was an entirely different kind of surrender. To let someone that he had been at odds with for so long see him in his pain.
And all that MacLeod did was hold him.
