I apologize for the extremely, *extremely* long delay in getting this chapter up. This is my baby, but it doesn't seem to want to come out as quickly (or at *all*) as I, and all of you, would like. I'll try to update more often, but I definitely cannot promise anything. Methos and Buffy seem to be hiding away somewhere, leaving me without any kind of inspiration. Perhaps you guys can help. Give me ideas! Give my muse ideas! Tell me what you'd like to see, and it'll hopefully help my writing process, and remove my block ;)
I'd also like to thank everyone who stuck by this fic all these long, cold months (Ya'll are fantabulous!) I know it wasn't easy, but it was all the reviewers who kept hanging in there that got this part out. Everytime I checked my e-mail, I saw one or two hopeful reviews, and it got me off my butt, and into writing mode.
So, thank you guys so much.
I apologize for the shortness, but it was all I could get out.
~Part Two~
One touch, a soft hand pressed against her face. One look, green eyes seeing deep down into her soul. And another lifetime shot through the both of them.
The Bronze Age
He frowned at the body spread across the ground, and crouched on his hind knees to feel for a pulse. He shook her head when all he felt was still silence.
"He's gone and gotten himself killed again," he groused as a dark shadow appeared above him.
The shadow laughed.
Methos looked up at her, squinting against the sun's glare, and giving the laughing shadow one of his own. "What?"
She continued laughing, "He does it on purpose."
"On purpose?"
"He's creating a tale for the villages. A tale of indestructible, inhuman beings." She informed him, eyebrows arched up in amusement. "So that the people fear us."
Methos scrunched his brows in thought, and as the body on the ground started up loudly, he grinned. "Well, that's profoundly brilliant of him."
Amarante nodded, and crouched next to him, reaching out to stroke Kronos' now conscious head. "He's a brilliant man." She said as Kronos coughed, and rolled over into her lap. He grinned madly, and she answered with a sigh. "You're insane, you know that."
"That's not what you said last night." He answered, attempting to sit up.
Methos stared at the both of them, and neither noticed the covetous cast to his eyes as they shared a passionate kiss. He dropped back, and stared at the carnage surrounding them.
"It was too difficult this time." He whispered. "We can't fight an army of men with only three soldiers."
"We're not fighting an army," Kronos shouted, struggling to his feet. "We're fighting an inferior race! We're fighting lower beings, and we're going to kill every last one of them."
Amarante rolled her eyes, and stood, "And how do you propose we do that? We're only immortal, and there's bound to be others out there, searching for us."
Methos nodded in agreement, and inched closer to her. He saw her glance at him out of the corner of her eyes, and watched a small smile appear on her face. "I agree."
They stared at Kronos', and watched as the dark immortal's mouth formed a vicious grin, and he reached out to pull Amarante into his arms.
"Then we'll have to find more to fight for our cause."
end flashback
Buffy pulled back, feeling as if the mere touch of his skin was burning her very soul. He looked so...so...changed. His eyes still held the same darkness, but there was an extraordinary light behind it.
"Amarante?" He repeated, moving towards her, much more tentative this time. "I...what are you doing here?"
She watched his hands drop as she stepped back even further, the new light in his eyes dimming at her less than enthusiastic reception. She didn't know what to do, she'd never thought they'd meet again in this lifetime.
But, somehow, he was standing in front of her.
"Methos....." She whispered as he reached for her once more. She shook her head, a small tear streaming down her cheek. "I..it can't be you."
He moved closer, attempting to reach out once more, but she backed away. She felt her leg slam into a nearby table, and the room spun around her as she feel to the ground. "Oh, God, no, this isn't happening."
He wasn't here. He wasn't.
The man standing in front of her could not be Methos. Could not be the immortal she'd once hunted for so many years. She felt dizzy, and her leg throbbed madly as she gazed up at the man she'd once loved with every part of her being.
"Buffy!" Joe cried, shaking off his shock at the scene he'd been witnessing. He limped over to where she'd fallen, and crouched down. "Are you alright?!" He stared up at the tall brit, who was leaning against the wall as if it was the only thing holding him up. "What's going on, Methos!"
"Methos? Buffy?" Duncan said softly, "What's going on?"
"Shit, you're burning up." Joe said, reaching down to rub a hand across Buffy's forehead.
"*Buffy*?" Methos whispered, eyes glinting a bit. "Now where did you come up with that name, Amarante?"
"Why do you keep calling her that?" Joe asked, peering curiously at the ancient immortal. "How do you two know each other?"
"I think that's obvious they've met before. We both know that the old man here definitely gets around." Duncan voiced as he made his way onto a barstool. "He is the oldest immortal living, after all."
"Oh, no, Mac," Methos whispered, crouching down to stare more deeply into Buffy's eyes. "That's where you're wrong."
Buffy attempted to pull herself together, but it was to no avail. She couldn't, not when *he* was staring at her with those intense eyes. She sighed lowly as he reached out, brushing hair out of her eyes.
"This woman that you call 'Buffy', hold that crown."
TBC..........
