Immortal Dilemma (part 2 of 3)

Legalistic Disclaimer
As usual, this is the deal: The concept and characters of Highlander (Duncan MacLeod, Richie Ryan, and Joe Dawson) 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, and Darla) belong to Joss Whedon, Warner Brothers, and Mutant Enemy. They'll be returned to their respective owners with no stapling, spindling, or mutilating (well, not too much anyway). Also, thanks go to my guinea pigs, excuse me, beta readers, Mary Ellen Jedrlinic and Claudia Diamond.

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 (a.k.a. me). Violation of this rule (second only to not killing on holy ground) may result in either decapitation or staking-depending on my mood that day.

Author's Note
This story is set during the fifth season of Highlander and during the second season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In other words, the insanity of Highlander's fifth season finale Archangel, when Richie has an unfortunate "accident," is completely disavowed in my corner of the galaxy (located slightly to the left of Proxima Centauri-hang a turn at Babylon Five and go four light years-you can't miss it). When necessary, I've also taken the liberty of filling in some of those annoying gaps in character backgrounds. Remember, all (positive) comments are welcome; all other (negative) comments will be rationalized, criticized, and ignored. If you have as much free time on your hands as I do, please direct E- mail to to me.
Enjoy.

Immortal Dilemma(part 2 of 3)

About a mile down the road, Richie looked back and saw the two men tailing him. This was not good. He was outnumbered two to one. Not good odds in any fight...mortal or Immortal. Realizing he had to balance the scales, he increased his speed and headed towards the home of the great equalizer. He just hoped MacLeod was in.

As he hung on to Angel's midsection for dear life, Xander shouted over the roar of the engine, "Where's he going...and why so fast? The police report said he lives on the other side of town."

"He's made us! If I was him, knowing I was being followed, I'd go underground right about now."

Xander asked, "Are you speaking from experience?"

Angel's reply was too low to be heard over the noise of the motorcycle, "Unfortunately, yes."

Rounding a corner into a long, dark, dead-end alley that was bordered by a red brick building on one side and a chain link fence separating it from a rail yard on the other, Angel and Xander stopped abruptly. Sitting in front of them, idling, was Richie's motorcycle. Riderless.

"I don't like this," Xander remarked nervously, "it feels like..."

"A trap," Angel finished.

Sauntering out from behind a dumpster at the entrance to the alley, Richie casually asked, "Hey, shitheads. Are you looking for me?"

Xander was already overwrought. Now he also felt cornered. Angel, on the other hand, merely looked amused.

"Hey, I think he's talking to you, Xander."

"Angel, this isn't funny. I think he's holding something behind his back. It's probably a gun and he's gonna shoot us! I say again, this really sucks! I'm too young to die!"

At this point, Angel was tempted to take the opportunity to slap Xander across the face. Instead, he simply stated, "I'll handle this."

As Richie started to close the distance between himself and the two intruders, he announced, "I'm Richard Ryan. Who the hell are you?"

Slowly, the vampire dismounted his bike. Turning to face the approaching Immortal, he replied, "I'm the Angel of Death. Nice place you have here."

Xander snidely added, "And I'm scared shitless. Enough with the damn introductions. Do something."

Over his shoulder, Angel told the teenager, "Whatever happens, stay on the bike. If I go down, you get the hell outta here and tell the others. Got it?"

For once, Xander answered simply. "Yeah."

As the two Immortals neared each other, they once again experienced excruciating pain in their heads. Once again, each was only partly successful in controlling the impact.

Before the pain subsided, Richie was momentarily thrown off balance by the four-foot length of sharpened steel he was holding out of sight along the length of his leg. Its tip hit the pavement with a sharp clank before he could regain control of the weapon.

For his part, Angel was not as dramatically affected as he was earlier in the bar. However, even with only a partial transformation, his normally handsome facial facade assumed a distinctly feral appearance. The effect did not go unnoticed. Raising his sword, Richie commented flatly, "Long lifeline or not buddy, you're one ugly son of a bitch."

His eyes bulging, Xander croaked, "Uh, Angel...THE GUY HAS A SWORD! THIS IS NOT GOOD! Maybe we should leave Sir Lancelot alone to go play with the other knights."

Without turning, Angel calmly told Xander that everything was under control. He then proceeded to pick up a length of pipe that a railroad worker had evidently dropped at the base of the chain link fence.

Pipe in hand, Angel then added, "Why should we leave now? The fun's only starting."

Overhearing this remark, Richie responded, "I'll give you some 'fun' you bastard!"

Angel paused a second before answering, "You mean like you gave to Christina O'Leary? Show me what a big man you are with that blade, BOY!" He then lunged toward Richie, using the pipe as a quarterstaff.

In the heat of the moment, the only thing Richie comprehended from this last exchange was the name of his dead girlfriend being spoken by an ominous stranger. Naturally, he assumed that the person now attacking him had also killed her.

Sparks flew as sharpened steel met blunt force lead. Neither man nor vampire, Immortals both, had a clear advantage. However, that situation rapidly changed when one of Richie's downward slashes cleanly sliced through the left sleeve of Angel's leather jacket, not to mention the flesh beneath. The response was immediate. Snarling, the vampire left his feet and landed a flying-literally-drop kick to Richie's midsection. The force of the impact flung the young Immortal into the wall of the building. He also felt (and heard) a couple of ribs crack, puncturing a lung.

Pulling off his jacket, oblivious to the gore beneath, Angel remarked, "This is a new jacket. Do you know how much it cost?"

Slowly, painfully, regaining his footing, Richie was only now realizing that this was not a typical opponent. Mac had never mentioned the power of flight as being part of ANY Immortal's bag of tricks. Coughing up blood and attempting to stall for time to allow his body to heal, Richie decided to strike up a conversation. At the very least, he wanted to know the name of the person who might kill him.

"Who are you?"

Richie was not heartened by the response.

Approaching for another strike, his opponent answered, "My friends call me Angel. You, however, can call me Angelus."

An enemy with a Latin name. Richie immediately realized that this was a bad omen for his possible success or even his continued survival. For Immortals, Latin indicated age, which in turn indicated skill with weaponry. Taken together, that usually meant death-permanent death-for a younger Immortal. To have any chance, Richie knew he had to go on the offensive.

Making a downward feint towards Angel's wounded arm, he quickly redirected the blow upwards when the vampire moved to protect his injured limb. The sword caught Angel in the face, opening a long raw gash along his left cheek.

Observing the battle from approximately 15 feet away, Xander cringed at the latest injury, thinking, "Oh, that's got to hurt. Big time."

Angel instantly responded to the slashing by viciously backhanding Richie across the face, his silver ring gauging a deep wound in the side of the young man's face. Quickly following up, Angel swung the pipe out like a scythe, taking out Richie's legs from under him and sending his sword sliding out of reach. The Immortal was now on his back, weaponless, staring up at his opponent.

Looking down with a smug expression, Angel was suddenly entranced by the appearance of a small streak of lightning which danced across Richie's face, closing the bleeding wound.

"What the hell are you?"

Getting a close look at Angel's face for the first time and unsure why his head was still attached to his shoulders, Richie replied, "Hey, I can ask you the same question, buddy."

Suddenly, the vampire was distracted by the same feeling of intense pain that had overcome him previously.

"Uh, Angel, we have company. I think it's the Second Musketeer."

MacLeod had sensed Richie's approach when he first entered the alley. Expecting him to come upstairs, he was not immediately concerned by his delayed arrival in the loft. That rapidly changed when he heard the clash of metal against metal. The distinctive sound of Immortals battling.

Pausing to watch the fight from the dojo's side door, he initially thought he couldn't interfere in a traditional battle between two Immortals. That was until he heard the name "Angelus" and got a glimpse of Richie's opponent in the dim light. It was then obvious to MacLeod that "The Rules" did not apply here.

"You...you monster...butcher," MacLeod spat out. Advancing with his katana drawn, he added, "Back away from him! We have some unfinished business between us."

It took Angel a few moments to recognize the newcomer. When he did, he coolly stated, "Well, if it isn't Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. It's been what...220 years?"

"Not long enough, Angelus."

Dropping the pipe, Angel moved rapidly towards his motorcycle. Turning to face MacLeod and Richie, who was now back on his feet, he remarked, "It's been fun, guys. We'll have to do this again sometime soon."

As the two Immortals looked on in amazement, Angel's face transformed back to its human mask. He then quickly climbed aboard the bike and sped off.

"Who and what the hell was he, Mac? Do you know him?"

"That, Richie, was a nightmare. A nightmare straight from Hell. We have to talk to Dawson. Now!"

Simultaneously, several blocks away, Xander was asking, "Who the hell were those guys, Angel? Do you know them?"

Angel responded, "Only the one with the ponytail. We have to see Giles. Now!"

Meanwhile, the battle in the alley had been observed by an individual using night vision glasses from the top of a boxcar in the rail yard. The observer, who had already committed one brutal murder within the past few days as the first phase of his psychotic plan, was now formulating his next move.

Also an Immortal, he planned to use Christina O'Leary's death as a means to distract-and then kill-the young, distraught Richie Ryan. After all, as he had already proven dozens of times during his long lifetime, the young ones were the easiest to kill in any case. Even more so when the right circumstances presented themselves...or were arranged. Of course, the Quickenings of young Immortals might not, in and of themselves, help one win The Prize, but they could serve as reinforcement when forced to battle an older Immortal, especially one whose student was just killed-thereby giving the killer knowledge of his/her teacher's tactics. In other words, slaughtering the young ones couldn't hurt, and might actually help on the road to The Gathering.

What this individual had just witnessed was truly exciting. Not only was Richie Ryan now a target on his radar scope, but so was at least one of the other men he spied in the alley (who, from his long distance viewpoint, was also an Immortal). Specifically, the man Ryan was battling appeared to be a most promising candidate for his future plans. The only formidable opposition was the individual who appeared on the scene last and came to Ryan's rescue. Immediately recognized as Duncan MacLeod, a serious threat, he would be given a wide berth and avoided at all costs.

Despite MacLeod's possible interference in his plans, the possibility of acquiring an easy Quickening (or two) was too powerful a lure to be ignored by his power hungry mind.

*********************************************************************

Back at the Sunnydale High School library, Giles was listening intently to Xander's report on of the events which transpired earlier in the evening. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Buffy was hovering around Angel, checking to see that his wounds were healing.

"...and then this second guy shows up with a sword and helps the first one that Angel flattened. The really weird thing was that Angel recognized the second guy from what...200 years ago?"

"Two hundred twenty," Angel corrected as he crossed the room with Buffy close behind. "His name is Duncan MacLeod."

At this point, Giles interrupted with a question, "So if they're not vampires, how is one of them still alive after hundreds of years?"

Angel paused before replying, "I've been thinking about that. I think there may be a connection with that old guy we met at the bar. He had a symbol tattooed on his wrist. I've seen it before. A long time ago."

Sliding a notepad to him, Buffy remarked, "C'mon Angel, share with the class. What did it look like?"

Taking a few moments to sketch a fairly accurate representation of The Watchers symbol, Angel passed the pad back to Buffy, who was now surrounded by Giles, Willow, and Xander.

"Willow, can you use that thing over there..."

"It's a computer, Giles"

"Fine, that computer, to try to find out anything about this symbol?"

Pondering the question for a few moments, she replied, "I guess we can clean up the drawing, scan it in, and..."

Giles, his impatience with all things technical obvious, interrupted, "Fine. Very Good. In the meantime, I'll search my chronicles. Xander, please assist me."

Following Giles, Xander remarked to no one in particular, "Research boy is needed once again."

Left alone, Buffy and Angel thought it might be time to make their exit. Leaving the school, they decided to take the shortest route across town, which just happened to pass through the Sunnydale Cemetery (it was quiet and secluded, after all).

"It's not every day that you're on the losing end of a street brawl," Buffy said as she took hold of his arm, "getting too old?"

"First, who said I lost and second, with age comes wisdom. After all, I was smart enough to find you."

Running her hand along the slashed sleeve of his jacket, she replied, "Well, who am I to disagree with my elders."

At that, Angel leaned down and kissed Buffy.

Running her hands along his face, her fingers found the rapidly fading scar on his cheek.

"Did I ever mention that I have a thing for scars?"

With a smile Angel asked, "Would that be a good 'thing' or a bad 'thing'?"

"A very, very good thing," Buffy replied.

"Well then, don't just stand there. I'll be gone soon."

If Angel had not been otherwise distracted, he might have noticed the stranger who had followed them from the school and was now watching them through binoculars from outside the cemetery grounds. The stranger had followed Angel and Xander back from Seacouver after their altercation behind the dojo. If handled correctly, he thought, this situation could present an unexpected opportunity.

Reordering his priorities, he decided to pursue this Immortal first, before possibly refocusing on Ryan later. In fact, since it made no sense having Duncan MacLeod after him seeking revenge, he might settle for one Quickening and forget MacLeod's protégé altogether.

*********************************************************************

Richie and Duncan entered Joe's bar at closing time, just as he was ejecting the last straggler of the night.

"Hey, MacLeod, what brings you here so late?" Turning to Ryan, he continued, "And Richie, why did you leave without saying goodbye before? I turned around and you were gone."

Richie shot a confused glance at MacLeod before responding, "Uh, Joe, don't you remember the two guys that were following me?" Motioning with his arm, he added, "You went over to talk to them at that table, started acting really weird, and served them drinks. I thought it was time to get outta here."

Dawson looking dumbfounded, said "I don't think I'd forget something like that, Richie."

"But Joe, I saw it happen."

MacLeod interrupted at this point, remarking "OK. OK. Something weird obviously happened tonight. Joe, I met the two guys that were following Richie tonight. Therefore, I can't dispute his version of what happened."

Hearing this, Joe sat down heavily on a bar stool and stared at an empty glass. After a moment of thought, he remarked, "I'll be damned. All I can remember is picking up some money left on that table earlier. I thought that was kinda strange since I couldn't recall who was sitting there. You know that I usually take note of the people who come in here, for obvious reasons."

When Dawson finished, MacLeod stated, "Joe, regardless of what happened earlier, I need you to find some information on Richie's new admirers. I have a license plate number from the motorcycle they were riding. And, I also had a run-in with one of the bastards years ago in Europe."

As he was speaking, Richie realized that a memory of events long past were taking form in his mentor's mind.

*********************************************************************

County Dublin, Ireland, 1777

"Good to see you again, Duncan. How long has it been?"

"Nearly ten years, Jonathan. How have you been?"

"I can't complain. All in all, business has been pretty good and the crops are coming in well."

MacLeod dismounted his horse as Jonathan took the reins. The long-time friends then embraced.

"My God, Duncan. You haven't changed a bit. You look exactly the same as I remember you."

Pausing, Duncan quickly replied, "Oh, that's not true, Jonathan. I'm getting old just like everyone else. I just hide it better." He pulled at his powdered wig for emphasis.

Walking towards the estate's stables, Jonathan said, "I was saddened to learn of your father's death a few years ago. He was always fair and honest in our dealings. He was a good man, Duncan."

Desperately trying to suppress a grin, MacLeod replied, rather immodestly, "That he was...a truly great man."

"Well Duncan, I'm sure you think of him every time you look in the mirror. You're obviously your father's son."

Not wishing to explain Immortal genealogy, MacLeod let this statement pass without comment.

Entering the stable, Jonathan said, "Well Duncan, I received your letter. I'd be happy to show you some of our prize stallions. We have quite a few to choose from this year."

"That's wonderful, Jonathan. Our families have been doing business for a couple of generations now, and that means something to me. Your horses have always served the MacLeods well."

Later in the day, after Duncan selected a snow-white two-year-old, Jonathan asked MacLeod if he could come to dinner that evening at the manor house.

"It would be my pleasure. How's Dorothy and the children?"

A slight frown crossed Jonathan's face as he replied, "She's fine, and the children are growing like weeds. You know how it is. However..."

"However...what's wrong, Jonathan?"

"My eldest son has been causing some trouble recently. I've heard that he goes into town at night and causes brawls in the pubs. He's also been associating with some, how shall I put this, unsavory women. Also, during the day he refuses to leave the house and oversee the planters. At night, he's never home. His mother and I are very concerned."

MacLeod listened intently, but wasn't sure how he could help. He interjected, "I find that hard to believe, Jonathan. The last time I saw Angelus, he was just a wee lad. How old is he now-19? 20?"

"Twenty."

"Are you sure he's not just working out some of his wild oats? It happens with most young men his age."

"I hope so, Duncan. It's just that he hasn't been the same since he went off to serve in His Majesty's Army. He came back colder, distant."

Hearing this, MacLeod quickly replied, "Believe me, Jonathan, battle can change a man."

"I know Duncan, that's why I thought you could talk to him. You can relate to him-and him to you-as I cannot. Also, he's threatening to bring one of his harlots to dinner tonight. My wife has forbidden it, but I'm not sure he's going to respect her wishes. I really could use you there for moral support."

Without hesitation, MacLeod responded, "I'll do whatever I can." Climbing aboard his horse, MacLeod departed, saying "See you tonight, my friend."

At 8 o'clock that evening, MacLeod rode up to the manor's entrance. Wearing a long dark cape, he dismounted and approached the front door. Knocking, he waited for a response. After waiting nearly a minute and receiving no answer, he knocked again, using the metal top of his walking stick for emphasis. This time, the door, which was not locked, creaked open about an inch. Peering inside and seeing no one in the foyer, MacLeod called, "Hello? Is anybody home?"

Receiving no reply, he proceeded into the sitting room which was illuminated by candles, but unoccupied. With a growing sense of concern, MacLeod crossed the room towards the entrance to the dining hall. Entering, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Oh good God!"

The scene before MacLeod was quite possibly worse than anything he had encountered on any battlefield. Jonathan, his wife, and their children were sprawled around the large banquet table and on the floor. There was blood everywhere. Additionally, two servants who had obviously answered the screams of their masters, also lay dead by the door leading to the kitchen.

MacLeod was actually starting to become physically ill, both due to the carnage laid out before him as well as to a sudden inexplicable pain in his head, when he was distracted by laughter emanating from the sitting room behind him. There, at the top of the stairs, stood the heir of the household and a young woman. Both were laughing.

Staring down, Angelus casually remarked, "Oh look, my dear. We have company for dinner. I do believe it's Duncan MacLeod. It's been a long time, Mr. MacLeod."

Replying, the young woman said, "Undoubtedly, dessert has been served, Angelus." They once again started laughing in unison.

MacLeod had never encountered such a seemingly inhuman act of fratricide in his life. He thought the boy had to be completely mad to commit this type of atrocity. But, what about the woman. What could account for her behavior?

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Angelus addressed MacLeod, "I'm sorry, sir. Have we ruined your appetite?"

"What have you done, boy? You've slaughtered your entire family. Why in God's name?"

Leaving his companion's side, Angelus proceeded towards the fireplace and retrieved a goblet from the top of the mantle. Sipping the red liquid within, he replied coldly, "God has nothing to do with this." Pausing to look at the girl, he continued, "My family didn't accept Darla here. Mother said that I'd either have to choose between her or them-I made my choice."

Darla then remarked impatiently, "I'm sorry to break up this little reunion, Angelus. And I so hate to eat and run, but we really do have a long trip ahead of us tonight. Let's finish our dessert and go."

At this point, the two started to advance on MacLeod from different directions. Drawing a sword from beneath his cape, he started to back up towards a corner of the room. Not a good tactical situation, but at least a defensible position from which he didn't have to cover his back.

Lunging first, Darla was quickly driven back by a couple of vicious slashes from MacLeod. Angelus, however, was not so easily deterred. Removing his army saber from the wall, he proceeded to engage the Immortal in combat. Although not as skilled with a blade as his opponent, Angelus was holding his own until MacLeod was able to trap his sword against the wall and punch him full in the face. The result was negligible.

"That's not very good behavior for a guest in my home, Mr. MacLeod."

Managing to free his sword, Angelus responded by smashing the Immortal in the face with its hilt, shattering MacLeod's jaw. Even with the haze of pain foremost in his mind, the Immortal was nevertheless amazed by the younger man's inhuman strength.

Retreating across the room, MacLeod stumbled against a closed door, closely pursued by the man and woman. Turning, he elected to throw a nearby candelabra at the woman, gaining a momentary reprieve when her dress ignited. While Darla beat out the flames, he was free once again to engage Angelus in single combat. After a few more thrusts and parries, MacLeod was able to knock his opponent off balance. When battling Duncan MacLeod, that was usually fatal. But not this time. Thrusting towards his opponent's chest, MacLeod said, "I'm sorry, Angelus."

"Angelus!!!" Darla screamed when she saw the blade penetrate her lover's chest.

Meanwhile, the young man's face actually took on a quizzical expression as he looked down at the blade that was deeply embedded in him. He then collapsed to his knees.

What happened next was completely unique in MacLeod's existence. Pulling his sword free, MacLeod expected the young man to fall over on the floor and die quickly. Instead, he just continued to kneel for several seconds. Looking up to face MacLeod, he then started to laugh...joined by Darla a few seconds later.

"Ouch. That does sting a bit, doesn't it my love?"

"Yes, my love, it surely does."

Looking up, the young man's facial appearance made MacLeod's blood run cold. Confronting him was a pair of red eyes, a deeply wrinkled brow, and a set of incisors that could only be described as fangs.

"Oh my God! What in Hell are you?"

"Better, MacLeod. As I said before, God has nothing to do with this. But, Satan surely does."

Noticing that Darla had also assumed a demonic appearance, the Immortal once again retreated against the closed door. Forcing it open, he found himself within the manor's small chapel. Expecting to be followed, MacLeod was surprised when his attackers did not pursue him across the threshold.

Saluting with his saber, Angelus simply stated, "Until we met again Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." The vampires then vanished from MacLeod's sight.

*********************************************************************

"I didn't leave that house until the following morning...well after dawn."

Richie and Dawson simply sat there a few seconds, before exchanging shocked expressions. Joe was the first to respond, "C'mon, MacLeod. Vampires? This is some kind of joke, right?"

"Tell that to Jonathan and his family."

Richie then spoke. "OK Mac, I've got to admit that the guy I was fighting tonight looked a little weird. But you know how shadows can play tricks with your vision..."

"Richie, the slaughter I witnessed back in Ireland was not a figment of my imagination or a trick of lighting." Turning to Dawson, he said, "Vampires...I don't know...maybe. As you know, Joe, I'm not a big believer in the supernatural."

"But Mac, why would this...this thing want to kill Christina?"

MacLeod thought for a moment. Shaking his head slowly from side to side, he answered, "Who knows, Richie? Maybe it's simple revenge on me, through you. What I do know for certain is that there was no conceivable excuse for the massacre I witnessed 200 years ago."

MacLeod then moved to the other side of the bar, poured himself a shot of single malt Scotch, and added, "And I also know that this creature, Angelus, must be stopped."

Turning to Dawson, he asked, "Joe, will you help us?"

Dawson hesitated a few seconds before answering, "If it wasn't you asking, Mac, I wouldn't even consider it. However, I'll make some discreet - very discreet - inquiries into the Watcher archives and some other databases. Maybe there is some record of this Angelus."

Shaking hands with his Watcher, MacLeod replied, "Thank you, Joseph."

*********************************************************************

end part 2 of 3 - Immortal Dilemma by Richard Ruth