purity2

Part Two

There were over ten tables in front of him. All of them had to be either emptied or their orders asked. He balanced two trays with empty dishes, while getting ready to pick up a third on his other arm. Navigating through the maze of tables took all his concentration. Therefore it wasn't all that surprising that he nearly lost it all when an intense feeling of wrongness hit him in the gut. He had no idea what it meant, all he knew that it had to do with the new arrivals. Big, huge guys, with guns. "Shit..." He hissed to himself, trying to keep himself steady. Some man started screaming, others just froze. One kid that was in the middle of biting in a sandwich nearly choked. He carefully set the trays down and turned towards the men. "Now, guys, please, don't start any trouble..." The men pointed at him and Richies heart nearly froze when he recognized the language.
Dagala.

He immediately took a step back, looking for possible exits. "No, I don't want to go..."
He shook his head firmly. The big brutes didn't seem to want to listen. Two of them grabbed for Richies arms. Richie tried to resist, but the guys were simply humongous. He froze when he felt a Q entering his sensing range. The man coming in wasn't anything special. He was dressed in a simple outfit. If he weren't immortal, he could have been anyone you met on the street. He squirmed again. "Lemme go, goddamnit!"
"Forgive me pure one. But the world needs you to much, to let you stay free." The immortal took one of the brutes guns and pointed it at Richie.
"No!"
A burst of Quickening started breaking out of the young immortal. Richie didn't even know how he did it, but it effectively pushed the immortal away from him.
He pants, blinking. "Wow!"

The brutes were shaking, but they still didn't let go. Their grip was a bit less tight though. He squirmed a bit more, making another attempt to get loose. He kicked on one of the guys feet and tumbled in between them, Wringing himself out of their hold and ending up behind them. There was a door there. 'Oh spirits please, let me get away'. He turned and made a break for it. A guy was standing behind it, but he didn't let the man stop him. His bike was under surveillance as well, no way to get to it. A small family car was waiting at the drive through. It was the only way out. He ran to it and pulled the door open. A minister turned his eyes to him. "Sir, sir, please, can you give me a ride outta here, there's a bunch o' guys after me and I need to get outta here *now*."

The immortal came running out. "Stop the Ai'kan'she. In Liliths name, stop him." Richie made a little noise of fear and scrambled into the back seat as best he could. The minister saw the men with guns and noticed the claws skipping out of the hands of some of them. He looked at the boy in the back seat that was trying to hide next to his son. Then he hit the gas, the door trailing behind for a second before he got it closed.
"Thanks, I owe you one!" Richie gasped out.
"What are those guys? And what do they want from you?" Richie was trembling. The escape had been a slight bit to narrow for his taste. Not to mention the shocks he'd sent out. How had he done that. He looked at his hands, still not fully understanding.
"I don't know, God, I don't know..." He knew alright, but how could he tell a priest, a man of god that a woman who'd stood model for Lilith, wanted him to be the messiah. That she was crazy enough to believe him of all people to be ... Christ. He hugged himself a bit. The kid looked at him in shock. Still a bit startled by the sight of the guns. Richie had a moment of worry about the mortals in the diner. Then again, the Dograi had no reason to harm them. They were simply bystanders. He finally sighed gently, and offered a hand to the boy sitting beside him. "Hi. I'm Richie."

"Aaron." the kid said. "Those were real weren't they. The guns."
He nods grimly. "I think so, yeah..."
"Cool."
Richie looked at the kid Would he endanger these people by staying with them? Maybe he should just let the man drop him of. "Umm, could you just drop me off at like a 7Eleven or something, mister?"
"Won't they just catch up with you then son? Those 'men' looked like they meant business."
"It would be safest for your family, though."
"Who are they?"
Richie doubted between his hesitancy to stay silent and the need to protect. "They're cultists." Was all he finally said. It was as close to the truth as anything he could think of saying. "They keep calling me 'Ai'kan'she and things like that. I just want to get the hell away from them."

The priest concentrated on the road. "Is there anyone you can call for help, anything...

"Mac." Richie whispered. But he knew it was impossible. The moment he called MacLeod the Dograi would be on to him. "I can't call anyone." He finally stated. "Not without getting myself and everyone else into a whole lot of trouble.

The minister sighed. "Then we're in a bit of a fix, aren't we? Well, don't worry. We've got an extra room we can put you in for a while, until you can head on out on your own."
"But..." Richie looked in the mans eyes and knew resisting would be useless. "You don't even know me..." was all he said.
This wasn't normal, most people he knew wouldn't give a damn about a stranger like him. And Priests ... he could only use his own experience as background, but the ones he met, cared about nothing but sin and shame. Few of them would set themselves on the line for someone they'd just barely met.
"Sir... I..." He sighed. "Thank you..."
"Don't worry about it." He smiled faintly, and settled back in the seat.

Chapter 1

Kyle jabbed his spoon fiercely into the pint of Haagen Daaz strawberry sorbed, shoveling the tart pink substance into his face as his feet carried him in an even circle around the coffee table, strains of Beethoven's fifth symphony filling the air. /Dear spirits, Mother's gonna be *pissed* when she finds out we didn't get the boy back.../
He closed his eyes, trying not to look at the Dograi at the door. They were as upset as he was probably more. They had failed Liliaeth. The mother.
"Please tell me at least one of you got that cars plate written down."
They had to find the thing, the fate of the world depended on it. Literally.
"Get in touch with the local community." Kyle said." See if there are any ... of the other communities around."
"Ah, y-yes, sir."
"And be careful, for Liliths sake!"

He kept staring at the door when the two Dograi left, following their every move out of the door. After a few moments, he resumed his pacing and eating. Unsure what to do actually. The eating was more a way of keeping his hands busy than out of a real hunger. And the cold helped draw his attention to *that* instead of the throbbing tension-headache that was starting to blossom between his temples.

"Why can't he just follow his destiny like he's supposed to." he muttered. "He gets the world offered to him on a golden platter, why doesn't he just take the chance."
As a loyal son of Lilith, Kyle would never admit it, but he was jealous. Jealous of the importance his mother put into the boy, jealous of his meaning and jealous of his fate. Part of him wanted to just let the boy get lost, but he'd never do it. Mother wanted him and what mother wanted she got. Finally, he gave up on the sorbed, and set it on the coffee table, flopping heavily onto his back on the couch, an arm draped over his eyes.

********

Preparation for dinner at the Linden's was a running, hollering affair. The kids were running around, working off some energy and washing their hands before heading for the table. Elizabeth, their mother, brought out a couple of covered dishes and set them in the middle of the dinner table; the odors were enough to make Richie's mouth water.
Soon, everyone was seated, and Minister Linden glanced around.
"Richie, would you like to do the dinner prayer?"
Richie gulped. Prayers? He didn't remember any. He closed his eyes to the last time he'd heard a diner prayer. The only thing that came up was Jo'lon. He said the prayer before he could stop himself "Spirit of the earth, that which bides us. Spirit of the sun that which warms us Spirit of the wind that which guides us Spirit of water that shows us the path. Bless this food, that comes from thy womb, bless this food that comes from thee. Great spirits that form the one. Guide us to the light."
"Is that a prayer?" Cody, the youngest whispered to his mother. "He didn't even say grace."
"Hush, honey, he did. It was just... said differently." She patted the boy's hand gently.
Richie blushed slightly. "I'm sorry, its just that my mother ..." he didn't continue talking. Talking about Jo'lon as a mother, it still felt weird.
"Its all right." Mrs. Linden started.
"It's not about the way we worship son, it's about what's in our hearts that's important." The priest added as an extra.
Richie couldn't help but flinch a little at that, but didn't make a comment as the food was being dished up. Sloppy Joes and oven-fries.
The minister started in and soon his family joined in. Richie tried to follow the rules of politeness. Still not sure what to do. When dinner was over he was the first to offer to help with the dishes. Elizabeth blushed, about ready to turn him down, saying that he's a guest. Then she looked in his eyes and understood that he needed to feel useful to give something back for what he got. She quickly threw him a towel.

********

Kyle slammed the door shut. The meeting hadn't gone well. Apparently the only vamps in town were demonbreed. And most of those were not all that likely to do anything to 'save' the world, instead of destroying it. Damn hell spawn. Worst thing, their complete lack of concern for exposure kept the other communities away from them. They called to much attention to themselves. Slayers, the law, the watcher council of Britain ... The smarter vamps wouldn't go near them if they got half the chance.
At least now the Dograi were ready. If they even got a hint of the boys presence, they would let him know.

He sat down on his couch, grabbing a book of Sartre while waiting for the others to return with news. He fluffed his pillow a bit before placing his head on it. God how much of this mission could still go wrong?

Chapter 2

Richie sat in the back of the church waiting for the reverend to finish the sermon. He couldn't believe his luck. The way the man and his family had just accepted him despite his strangeness. The man was good, Richie had never followed a protestant service, and his own education by the nuns was rather different from this. After the service was completed, everyone fled out. Some of the kids started playing rough on the church lawn, running and laughing. Richie sat with the reverend and his family for diner. There was a fair going on and most of the people seemed rather happy.

Cody, the reverends youngest son was climbing in a tree. Richie had noticed him earlier, but since the reverend didn't seem to mind he hadn't said anything.
The boy was getting dangerously high
More and more people started looking up. Mrs. Linden tried to get him to come down, but the kid wouldn't listen. Suddenly a high scream pierced the air and everyone caught their breath as the boy fell. Richie watched in shock. Oh great spirits, no!
He ran up to the scene like everyone else. The boy, Cody, just lay there, his neck in a weird twist, he wasn't breathing.
It was clear to everyone that he was dead. His small body lacking any motion. Some of the mothers grabbed their children to them, hiding the gruesome sight of their broken friend.
It had all just happened so fast.

Richie could see the tears start forming on Mrs. Lindens face. There was no choice, not really.
The rest happened as if in slow motion.
"Cody... no!" He dropped to his knees by the body, reaching out carefully to brush a few strands of hair from the boy's face, wiping some of the blood from his skin.
His eyes lifted to the heavens, how could this happen.
The words left his mouth, as if driven out by some unspoken force.
"I beg thee holy ones, set right what went wrong."
A light started forming under his fingers, he held on as flashes of Quickening left him for the boy.
The crowd stared, a miracle was taking place.

Not a breath was released, shock spread over the crowd as the kid started coughing, breathing again.
Richie shivered and started falling. Exhaustion clear in his eyes.
Elizabeth caught him before he could collapse completely, supporting him.
There was gratitude in her eyes, gratitude and something more. Wonder, bewilderment, ... something unexplainable had just happened.

The reverend was still in shock.
All he knew was that his son had been dead.
Dead, not just wounded, dead, and yet, he was alive again.
Eric Linden had never been a believer in those faith-healers. To him they were nothing more that money wolves out to get the last penny out of their believers.
But this denied description. There was no trick, no illusion.
His son had been dead and he was alive again.
People started crowding in, the shock finally slightly fading. All wanting to touch the boy, the healer, he saw terror in the boy eyes as they gathered round.

Eric grabbed his hand and pulled him along with him to safety, the rectory should be fine. It would be out of the eyes of the crowd at least.
Elizabeth stayed behind to make sure their son was all right.
People wanted to see him, to see the proof, to know that what had happened was for real. Maybe the kid had just been unconscious. Maybe they'd just imagined his broken neck. But there was blood on the rocks underneath the place he had fallen.
Eric could hear the crowd outside, requesting to see the boy.

"Are you okay?"
"Mr. Linden, w-what...?" Richie was dazed, confused, and scared.
Eric wished he knew what had happened. He'd hoped the boy would have been able to explain, but the kid seemed as confused as he was.
"Don't worry Richie, you don't have to go out if you don't want to."
He eyed the wooden cross in the front of the church and said a quick prayer of thanks for the life of his son.
"Thank you, sir..." Richie mumbled, sitting down heavily in a pew.
"Richie are you alright."
The reverend got worried about the boy.
"I'm exhausted... whatever happened just now took a lot out of me."
"What did happen?"
"I don't know, exactly... I acted out of instinct..."
The boy seemed thoughtful, as if not sure how to explain it himself.
"I saw him ... Cody, lying there and I wanted him back and then he was. I ..."
Light started oozing from the boy, like some kind of aura, spreading out as if feeding from the air around it. It seemed even stronger in the churches hazy light.
"Oh... my God..." Eric murmured, too surprised to check himself as he staggered back.
It was as if there was something going on between the boy and the church. The boy looked at his hands, at the ground.
He muttered something, the only word the reverend could understand was holy ground.
Eric panted softly, staring at the glowing boy in awe and wonder.
"Jesus Christ." he whispered.
"Not you too." the boy moaned almost as if in annoyance. "As if 'they' aren't bad enough with their messiah-thing." His eyes were almost begging. "I'm just a kid reverend, nothing special."
It was as if he were begging the minister to agree with him.

"I... I wish I could agree with you, Richie, but.. You have a very special gift."
"I don't want it. I just want to be normal, to go out on my bike, have dates, see the world, maybe even go back to school.
I don't want the fate of the world on my back. If only she could understand that."
"She?"
"Lilith, mother." The boy grasped for air. "She says that ... I have to be prepared to ... I'm not sure what she wants, she just thinks that I'm the only thing between hope and despair. Stupid isn't it?
The priest nods. "But the fact remains that you *do* have this power, in spite of your protestations."
"But does it have to control my life?" The boy finally stopped glowing.
"I think that's for the powers that be to decide. And for *you*. Richie, you've obviously been chosen for something."
"But ... I could deal with the immortality, I could really, but this ... it's too much."
"Immor--" Blink, swallow, "Immortality?"
"yes, the whole, 'there can be only one'-thing, living forever unless someone takes your head, your Quickening."
Eric coughs firmly.

Chapter 3

Thomas had put his feet on his desk. He was lazying a bit, fixing up a last report for his immortal. The man was moving out of the country and he'd decided to ask for a transfer. He was thinking about moving back home and visiting with Eric and his family before getting a new assignment It would be good to see the kids again. There was a bit of a commotion over at the door. Some guy had put on the television and Thomas started to wonder what was going on.
"Holy shit! I don't believe this!" Someone cried.
"What?"
"Come look! They've got some kind of Saint in Nevada!"
"Not again." A few of the more experienced watchers moaned in disgust.
"He's in the files!:
"Who is?" Thomas got up.
"Ehhh... Richard 'Richie' Ryan." The watcher looked at the file and looked up, surprised. "That's impossible. Ryan's dead. Dead dead. Terminal log. File closed."
"Then what the hell is he doing on TV??"
"What?"
"Look at it.
An amateur video was shown of a boy lying on the ground, dead. And a man coming up to him.
Thomas heart nearly froze when he saw the location. The victim. "Cody... " he whispered.
The image showed a young looking redhead as he sat down next to the kid and touched his head.
Sparks of blue lightening coursed in between the man and the boy.
"The kid must be some pre-immortal. Guess we got one more Immie with a god-syndrome. As if Larca wasn't bad enough."
"Yeah, but *Ryan*?"
"Who's this Ryan anyway, and what do you mean he's dead?"
"Richie Ryan. Duncan MacLeod's most recent apprentice."
"Until MacLeod took his head three years ago."
"Allegedly."
"For real." the man grabbed a pen in his hands, nearly breaking it.
"We even got pictures of the corpse, we got a grave with a body inside of it. We got ..." A noise started forming.

Thomas didn't listen to it, something had happened to his cousin. But Cody couldn't have been a pre-immortal could he? They were all supposed to be foundlings.
Maybe he'd been switched at birth or something.
It happened, rarely, but still...
"We've got Richie Ryan, on TV, handling a child-Immortal."
Kaper was right. This was important, it was too public, to dangerous. Something had to be done.
"I can go." Thomas said. "That kid ... he's my cousin."
There are whistles. "You sure you can handle this?"
"I have to. At least I won't catch attention. Eric will be expecting me to come. It's the least I can do as his brother."
The older watcher sighed. "Okay, but be careful." He put the pencil back in his pocket. "This guy could be dangerous. If his plans are as big as they seem to be ... And if he is Ryan, he knows about the Watchers."
"You'll want to check some steel out of the locker, then. Just in case."
"And a huge watch." the watcher muttered.
"Say, shouldn't we call Dawson, tell him Ryan might be alive."
"That might not be a bad idea..."
"The least he could do is keep the look out for him. However, if Ryan's is alive, why haven't we seen him before now. Do you think he's planning to go after MacLeod?"
"Hmm... Somehow, I don't think so.

********

Joe grumbled as he got up to the computer, the damn thing was beeping loudly, announcing the arrival of a Watcher-message.
At the same time the phone was adding to the noise, both of them drumming in on him.
"You have a message." the annoyingly happy tone stated.
As if he didn't already know.
"Joe Dawson." he said after picking up the horn.
"Did you get the message we sent?"
No hello, no how do you do, not any kind of niceties. This had to be big.
He opened the file and its attachment.
"You got to watch this. We seem to have yet another immortal with a god-complex." Joe rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
'Just great. And they woke me up for this nonsense.'
The download was finished and the Watcher started the video. It seemed to be a normal church meeting. A small after service
picnic under the sun. Then it happened, some kid fell. The person holding the camera seemed to have been frozen in midmotion, unable to stop filming. The view remained on the body of the boy that lay broken on the ground. At that point a red-haired man came up to the boy. The man seemed familiar, but Joe wasn't sure from where, just seeing his back.

Then the man with the red curls looked up, his lips moving as he touched the boy.
"Oh dear God..." Joe blurted, sitting down hard.
Joe watched openmouthed as the child started coughing, a sign of returned breathing.
"Joe we need to know. Is that Ryan or not?"
He swallowed carefully before answering. "Y-y-yes, that's him..."
"Then how the hell do we have a beheaded corpse with his name on it?"
"I don't know..."
Joe started shivering. This could not be possible. He'd seen Richies corpse. He'd touched it, he'd buried the boy. That couldn't be him. But if it were... how?
"Where exactly did this happen. God if Mac finds out about this. I have to ..." he didn't continue what he had to.
"Slow down, Joe. We're not even really sure if it *is* Ryan. It sure as hell looks like him, but there are no guarantees that it really *is* him."
"But if it is..."
Joe looked at the image of the boy that had been like a son to him. A friend. The boy that as it seemed, was still alive... He rewinds the video, watching it again, seeing the kid die and seemingly being healed.
"Who's the boy?"
"My nephew, Cody..."
"Your ... Oh god, is he ...?" Joe didn't know how to ask. The boy was alive, yes, but if he was immortal now, he'd be trapped in the body of a child for the rest of his life.
"We don't know. God, I hope not..."
"Where is he? Maybe if I go, I can say if it's Richie or not."
He gave Dawson the city and state and address. "I'm getting ready to go there myself..."
"I'll meet up with you at the airport around..." he quickly searched the timetable on the internet " noon."
"Right."
"I'll see you there, then..." He sighed a bit.

He put down the phone and rolled himself up to the bathroom. God did he hate that wheelchair right now.
This was about one of the only times he ever used it, in the morning, before he was to awake enough to be truly steady on his legs.
He showered, as best as he could, then wheeled back to his bedroom to put his faux legs on and dress.
Each year it grew harder and harder to just stand. He fought with the pain as he put the things on. No matter what, he refused to be confined to that wheelchair, as long as he could still walk.

Richie ... alive...
Maybe he should just tell someone.
Not MacLeod, no need to give the man false hope, but Methos ... Now where was the old man hanging out?

Chapter 4

Richie sat in the kitchen. There were reporters standing outside in front of the gate. The reverend refused to let them in, but they seemed diehard stubborn to get an interview with him. He shivered at the thought of what they might think.

"Maybe I should take my rifle out there..." The reverend muttered sourly, pacing a bit.
He tried to fight it, but Richie couldn't help chuckle at those words. The young immortal got up and took a cup of coffee.
"I can't use this publicity sir. If mother sees it, she'll be here in no time. She or one of the others." He gazed out of the window.
The priest nods. "I understand. All the more reason I should chase those damn paparazzo's off with buckshot."
He lifted the curtain a bit, looking out at the crowd. It weren't just the reporters. Other people were there as well. Normal people, who wanted their shot at meeting the man that brought a kid back to life. People who wanted his healing touch, his blessing. People who thought he was some kind of saint.

He sighed heavily. "Richie, some of these people honestly believe in you."
"So does mother." Richie muttered out.
"I'm just an immortal. I can't die unless I'm beheaded, that's all." he looked at the glare the reverend gave him. "And yes I can heal people, but that's new, even for me."
"I don't want to make them believe something that isn't real." The reverend grinned.
"You know son, Three years ago, I was in Tucson, there was some man calling himself a minister. Each service again, he would put up this show. People would come to him and he'd heal them. Or so he claimed. I wanted to believe but as it turned out, he was a fraud." He turned back to Richie. "Now I appreciate the fact you don't want to give people false hope, but the thing is, what you can give them is real ... you can actually do the kind of things that people like that claim they can do."

Richie sighed softly. "I guess you're right..."
He looked at the crowd again. There were some people with children. His heightened Dograi vision showed them all. Some in wheelchairs, others ... he could see their life-force, their pain. Their hope.
"I want to help, but if I do ... Can I live outside of this? Can I have a life further than being a healer? If I start now, will they let me live... I am not god; I am just a person. I can't help everyone."
He sighed. "You won't know unless you try."
"Richie, they need you. You've given some of them a hope that they didn't *have* before."

Richie looked at the children.
"Could you ..." he pointed at them. "Ask them to bring the blond boy in the wheelchair and the girl with the red hair. They'll die if they won't get help soon."
The reverend nodded and stepped out carefully. Some people seemed surprised when the minister talked to them. Others seemed disappointed that they weren't asked. The reporters practically jumped at the man, he didn't seem to be all to willing to talk to them.
The woman wheeling in the blond kid seemed exhausted. And not just she. There were tears in her eyes. Richie got away from the window and stared at them. His eyes glued to their faces for a second before he turned away.

The reverend helped the redheaded girl's father with the ailing child. The girl could barely stay up on her feet. Her eyes were red. Richie pulled up a chair for her. He smiled at her gently as she sat down delicately.
"It hurts. Doesn't it?" He asked nicely as he put his hand on her frail hand.
She nodded faintly.
He moved his hand to her face.
"The tumor is going further. I think I can heal it, but I will have to fight it. This might hurt a bit ok."
She nodded again. Richie now took her head with both hands. He looked in her eyes and began. His hands started glowing, a pure light started playing between him and the girl. She moaned in a burst of pain for a moment. Then her face lighted up. A tear fell down her eyes.
"The pain is gone." was all she said.

Her father crouched, looking up into his daughter's face.
"Daddy, my eyes don't hurt no more."
Richie got up, slightly shaken.
"It's best if you go to a doctor, have her checked out and make sure she's fine."
The man looked as if he was going to say something.
"Don't." Richie didn't want his thanks. He just wanted to recover for a moment. The father smiled faintly, and nodded, and leaned over to pick up his little girl again.
The mother of the little boy had stared at all of it. She hadn't really believed before. But now… her eyes were focussed on the girl. There was true hope now. Hope that her son too could be saved.

Richie looked at the kid, the boy was about eight. He was completely withdrawn in his chair. A mere husk of a living being. Richie could see the illness in his bones, the way his bone marrow was tainted.
He touched the boy, his hand on the child's chest.
"Tape'yia. May creation be willing."
You could almost see the child get well. A healthy blush appeared on his cheeks. His form grew more firm, less breakable. Richie took a step back and fell. Shivers coursing through his body. Lightening flashes played around his body for a moment.
Then he fell unconscious.
The last sight he saw was that of the boy falling in his mothers arms.

Chapter 5

Joe steps off the plane, leaning heavily on his cane and squinting through the disgustingly cheerful sunlight. There was a man waiting for him. The guy carried a strap on bag in his hands and wore a simple black businessuit. He stepped over carefully. "Tom?"
"Yep."
The man was serious. He picked up his paper that he'd put on top of his bag and threw it to Joe.
"Read this. The bastard is actually going through with it. As if there aren't enough frauds around, without adding immortals to the mix."
He caught it, and gasped a little as he read. "Oh my god..."
More and more people were coming on a pilgrimage to the little town of Clearbanks. All wanting to see the saint that had brought a child back to life and had healed two other ones.
"Shit..." He whispered, folding the newspaper.
"Tell me. Where would he get ideas like this? I heard MacLeod had delusions about being the worlds savior as well."
"I don't know... maybe some of *that* rubbed off on him..."
"I called my brother, Eric is sending my cousin Mike to pick us up. He doesn't dare let anyone through normally, the crowds are getting to bad. I can't get it that he actually believes all that crap."
"I'm sure he has a reason for believing. I mean, if you were in his situation..."
"Yes.
"I just hope he won't be to disappointed when I tell him the truth about immortals."
Joe sighed. "Me too..."
Thomas looked up when he saw a group of people singing hymns step up from one of the terminals.
"Oh no..." Joe mutters grabbing Tom's arm. "We'd better get outta here..."
"Wh...Why." He stuttered a bit, surprised at the pictures some of them were holding. Richies picture, surrounded by a halo was emblazoned on several of them.
"Them. I don't think we want to have to fight through *that*, now do we?"
The watcher just nodded, staying on the look out for his cousin.

*********

He wasn't all that comfortable with having the 16 year old giving him a ride, but he could understand that neither Eric nor Elizabeth could leave the house to pick them up right now. Joe tried to engage the young man in a bit of conversation, but gave up after several attempts. The boy seemed to be unsure what to think of the stranger. Then he suddenly said out of the blue.
"Are you sure you had to bring him? I like Richie, I don't want him to run, because of some reporters. I mean, he may be immortal like he said, but if those people with the guns come after him again."
"Guns?!" Joe asks, sitting forward.
"Immortal?" Thomas blurted out.
"Well yeah, I heard him tell dad. And Aaron told us about how him and dad first met. Man did he tell us, we wouldn't hear the end of it. Richie came running from a diner in the next town and he ran up to dads car. They were after him with guns and dad helped him out with a ride. Richie didn't want to endanger dad and Aaron but dad managed to convince him to stay." The boy blurted it all out in one breath.
"Wow..."
"He's so cool. I mean, I know he completely denies to be a saint or holy, like those people say, but if there really is a Christ, I'd wish him to be like Rich. He said he was going to teach me how to fix my bike and all that. Well he said that before those damn reporters came to bother him."

Joe sighs heavily. "Some people..."
"As if he'd mind." Thomas muttered darkly. "He said he was immortal?"
Joe pokes Tom firmly in the shoulder for that statement.
"Well he said it to dad." The boy blushed a bit. "I overheard."
Thomas looked at him to continue.
"Dad was talking about his gift to heal people and Richie said that he couldn't be what people wanted him to be, that he was nothing more than an immortal who just happened to be able to heal people."
Joe rubbed his chin. "Interesting... like Cassandra's psychic gifts... only they sound more advanced..." His mutterings were mainly to himself.
The boy didn't seem to have heard those words.
"And then he saw those kids and he said they'd die if he didn't do something. And they called them in and ..." the boy was almost getting out of breath through his blabbering. "It was like ... wow. One moment those kids were ... like if they were going to break apart, the next ..."
Joe whistles shrilly.

"Mike, after Cody ... came back. Did ... have you seen him get hurt after that, scratched, anything?"
"He hurt his knee after skateboarding. Mom looked like if she were going to burst. All yelling that he had to be more careful, that he should thank god for the miracle he'd received and all that."
"Is his knee all right?"
"Well there's a huge crust on it and it's all blue. You should have heard him yell when mom was taking care of it this morning."
"Thank god."
Tom got poked again.
Tom just glared at Joe. Well he had reason to be happy. If Cody was wounded, then he wasn't an immortal and then ...
He just felt he had to get proof, any proof. Just to make sure one last time.

*****

Richie lay on the couch in his best impression of a slug, moaning a little with an ice-pack on his forehead and a cold cloth across his eyes. If he hadn't been nauseous, he probably would've been starving half to death, as he hadn't eaten anything since before he healed Cody. The problem wasn't that he hadn't gotten anything to eat. Mrs. Linden had been trying to get him to eat since then; it was that he just couldn't get it in. He was to shocked by what had happened to really eat.
He felt someone replace the ice-pack and looked up.
"Richie... you have a visitor." Mrs. Linden said softly.

Richie got up, feeling slightly dizzy. He could barely believe his eyes.
"Joe?!"
He got up to fast and almost fell again.
"Joe!" he repeated. "Oh god you're here and ... Does Mac know where I am?" the last words were said with a near amount of fear in his voice.
"Don't worry, I didn't say a word to him." Joe said gently.
"I don't want her to hurt him. Her or Kaine. She wasn't to happy with him, she wouldn't even let me go help him or anything."
"Her?" He looks confused.
"Mother" Richie nearly whispered the words. "She sent Kaine to get me when Mac ..." Richie choked for a second.
"Her name is Jo'lon, most people call her the Liliaeth."
"Jo'lon.. you mean Methos' mom?"
"What?!!!"

Chapter 6

Methos was one of his brothers? Richie nearly fell as he heard those words. He'd known Jo'lon was older than Methos, it was hard to miss that one, but this ...
He blinks. "You... didn't know?"
"She didn't mention him when I was at her place." He stopped flat for a second.
"She must have known I knew him. Wouldn't she? She knew everything else about me."
"Richie, slow down. Begin at the beginning, from when..." He made a small motion with one hand.
"Uh yes. When I ... when Kaine took me." Richie gulped for a second.
"Kaine?" Joe looked confused. He had heard that name somewhere else, but he couldn't quite place it...
"Last time I saw you, Horton was keeping a gun pointed at your head. You were in his car and I barely had time to tell Mac I was following you before I had to race after you."
Joe looked up.

"You saw me with Horton? But he never... He remembered the short phone call he'd overheard
"Mac left after you, he didn't mean to Richie."
"I know. I saw them. He was fighting against two ... I don't know how to put it now. There was this one guy in a weird Halloween outfit and another... another who looked just like me, closer than a twin."
"Wow... Ahriman went to a *lot* of trouble..."
"Yeah well, next thing I know, everything goes black, and I see a second double of me heading up towards Mac. Kaine told me he somehow took control of some young immortal and altered, morphed whatever you want to call it, his face to make it look like mine." Richie looked up at the old Watchers face.
"He had someone killed to get me out Joe. He purposefully sent someone to his death just to fool Ahriman."
"Well, whoever this Kaine is, he probably didn't want anything to happen to *you*."
"That's what he said. Then again, Kaine isn't human, he doesn't give a damn about anyone that doesn't matter to his mother. At least she cares somewhat. He's a vampire, the first vampire." Joe let out a hiss of breath. "And man can he be a sonova ..."

Richie took a deep breath. "I woke up at mothers place." He sat down, holding his head in pain. "I always thought Mac was hard as a teacher, all that discipline and running and ... then Jo'lon started and Macs regime seemed like summer camp compared to it."
The older Watcher whistled shrilly.
"Let's just say it wasn't just her sharing her Quickening with me, that made me stronger than ever before"
Joe stared at him not understanding. "First time I saw her, it was like ... parts of her Quickening just started hitting me, bashing into me. It was like nothing I've ever faced before. I think that's where the healing comes from. The healing and these..."
Richie showed his hand to Joe. At first sight it seemed normal, then Richie opened his hands, and Joe could see claws jump out like with a cat.
It was only then that Joe noticed the fanglike teeth in the young immortals mouth.
"Yow! Jesus!" Joe yelped, skittering back.
"She says I'm turning into a Dograi."
"A Neanderthal." Joe whispered, remembering the modern meaning of the ancient term from his one and only encounter with the Liliaeth.
"That sounds so ... prehistoric." The boy seemed almost disgraced at the term.
"Maybe so, but..."
"I know, I know ... official terms and all that. It's just that they're still around, because of mother and we, she always uses Dograi. Anyway, then she told me why she's training me and I got the hell out of that place."
"Why was she training you?"
"No way, not telling that one. It's to embarrassing."
Joe cocks an eyebrow, and looks at Reverend Linden. The priest just shrugged.

"Not that kind of embarrassing." Richie suddenly interjected.
"She thinks I'm a fucking mixture of Jesus Christ, Buddha, and ever kind of messiah like teacher that ever lived. She wants me to win the Prize Joe. To rule the world and all that nonsense. Can you believe that she was actually planning to have me take her head as soon as she was finished. She wanted me to kill her. I can't do that, none of it."
"Holy shit..." The watcher had to fight to shut his mouth.
"I won't go back."
"I can understand why. That's an awful lot to be thrust upon you like that."
"uhuh."
Outside, another car pulls up, and a very loud British voice rises in anger, telling people to 'get the bloody hell out of his way'.

Chapter 7

Xander looked a bit embarrassed as his two partners in crime waded their way through the crowd with a complete lack of respect for the people. How did he ever got into this situation, in love with a 1000 year old ex-demon and traveling with the most cynical 5000 year old man you could ever imagine.
It seemed like if they weren't going to get through. The sheriff wouldn't let them. It was understandable, but quite a hinder as well.
He took the Orb in his hand and concentrated. A light radiated out of it and soon a gap was created right up to the door.
Methos frowned at him. "Xander... *don't* do that again."
"Do what?"
He looked down at the crystal. "*That*."

Xander stared at the crystal and shrugged.
"What's wrong with it? I can't seem to get rid of the thing, so why not use it." Xander didn't mention the fact that each time he tried to take it of, a burst of pain hit him in the chest, as if he'd die, if he'd lose it.
He sighed. "Just be careful. We don't need people to start worshipping *you*, too."
"No chance of that. Last time I got called a demon for over 20.000 years." Xander wasn't even aware that he'd taken one of Asmodeus' memories as his own. They knocked the door. At first no one opened, then they came face to face with a tall man of about 40, the reverend it seemed.
"Mr. Linden? Can Richie come out to play?" Methos asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Inside Richie looked up at Methos, his older brother. His Quickening flared around him as he stood up.
"I'm not going back." he repeated once again.
"I don't intend to take you back." He said softly.
"Good. Cause I'm not going."
The Quickening burst went back inside the young immortal as he headed up to the kitchen and kneeled down next to the fridge. "Feel like a beer?"
"Please! I'm parched." Methos walked in and bent over to look into the fridge curiously.
Anya rolled her eyes. "Thank the lower beings for that. He's been nagging for a beer all the way down from Sunnydale."
Richie stared up at the young blonde, wondering what it was that felt off with her.
"Ignore her, Rich." Methos said dryly.
"Who are they?
"Blondie over there is Anyanka, formerly known as the patron saint of women scorned, the goofball with the big ball around his neck is Xander." Methos smirked a little. "He's in as much of a hurry to meet mom as you are."

Thomas stared at them. "Pierson? What the hell is he doing here?"
The watcher had heard that Pierson had turned out immortal, but how had the former watcher gotten involved in this mess. Rumor around headquarters did hold that he was a student of MacLeod's.
"Its a *very* long story."
"Don't ... just don't."
The man lifted his hands and scowled at the group.
Anya sat down on the couch and grabbed Xanders shirt, pulling him down next to her.
He 'oofed' a little as he sat down.
She got closer to him.
"So we found him, you protect him and can we go upstairs and have sex. It's been hard imagining it while we were in the car with the old guy."
He blushed deeply. "Ehhhh...!"

********

Eric wasn't sure what to think. Things had been so weird the past few days, and these strangers didn't really help things.
He looked at his brothers friend, Richie seemed to trust Dawson and the other ones ... well he didn't seem to be afraid of them any more.
He poured himself a bourbon and offered some of it to the others. The black haired man refused, he was staring at his beer, the bottle was already empty.
The stranger muttered something and returned to the fridge.
Eric got the distinct feeling that he'd be out of beer within the day, he made a mental note to send Mike for a few more six-packs. He hoped the man wasn't planning to drive.

The stranger popped the cap off with his thumb, sending it ricocheting back behind the fridge before taking a long drink.
The minister took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. These were guests, friends of Richie, ... he had to stay calm, stay calm, he could do it.
"So mister... what did you say your name was again..." the minister tried.
"Pierson, sir. Adam Pierson." He glanced at Richie, nodding very faintly.
"Yes. Off course ..."
At that point Richie seemingly lost control and fell in, he was shivering, out of control. The black haired man got up to him.
He hugged Richie gently, stroking his back.
Richie stared into the mans eyes, the trembling increased. It was as if he was seeing something that wasn't there.
"You were of Ahriman but you fought him. You were of the Horsemen but you fought their goals." the boy whispered.
He nodded.
"I saw you. You rode with them and you did things, horrible things ..."
Eric stared at the man even more fervently.
"Why would Death stand up for life?" the boy whispered finally
"Because..." Methos whispered. "I choose to."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Eric could no longer hold in, he had to know.
"Its very complicated, sir."
"Complicated?" the minister regained control. "Are you a threat to either Richie, my children or my people?"

Methos stood there for a second, facing him, then he shook his head.
"But you were, once, weren't you." he recognized the look on the mans face, the look that had shown when the Horsemen where first mentioned. He'd seen it on the face of men who'd committed crimes yet where trying to atone for them
"Once... a very, *very* long time ago..."
"Tell me about it."
"I'm not entirely certain I should speak of it."
"Why not? How can I know if I can trust you if you don't?"
"Because you may not trust me if I *do*."

Eric stared at the man in shock. "Tell me one thing, do you or do you not regret what you have done? God is a god of forgiveness. If you truly regret your past actions, he would not hold them against you. And neither would I."
The reverend looked him in the eye as he said those words, meaning every single one of them.
Methos's lips started twitching. He couldn't help it; a few moments later he was laughing outright.
The reverend looked at him, shocked.
"You find this funny mister Pierson?"
"N-no, not at all..." he wiped his eyes carefully. "Only ironic. I doubt you would have said that if you knew who I was and what I've done."
"Tell me then. I always like to be amused."
He got ready to take another bourbon. "Besides, I hate it when I don't get the joke."
"I was one of four men who rode across two continents, killing and pillaging as we went."
"Four men?" The reverend suddenly remembered the boys words. "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Death ..." for a moment he was stunned.
The dark-haired man, Death, nodded slowly. The reverend poured in his drink. He took another long drink from his beer, watching the Rev. thoughtfully.
"Alright. That's pretty big. I presume that is as bad as it gets."
He nodded. "Pretty much."
"And now you expect me to throw you out of the house, call you evil or something like that?"
Methos seemed surprised.
"You forget Mister Pierson. I am a priest. It's my job, my duty to try and help all who require my aid. You, like any other sinner, deserve the right of gods forgiveness. It is not up to me to judge you for your crimes. As I said, as long as you regret them and do anything you can to atone for them, I can not hate you for them."
He blinked, completely boggled. Methos didn't understand the mortal, didn't he understand what he'd just said? He looked at Joe, the watcher just shrugged.
"Bloody wonderful." he muttered.