Crash was dark, dank, and loud; just the way she liked it. The music pounded into the night and the bricks of the building vibrated from the sonic force blaring from the speakers. The tangy scent of sweat, sex, and pheromones permeated the air and filled each patron's nostrils, stimulating every pulsating body, seducing every youth. Taking it all in, Buffy simply stood, soaking up the atmosphere. She missed places like these: It reminded her of the Bronze, and even though the thought of her former life brought her pain, she took solace in the familiarity. There was so little time nowadays to indulge, kinda ironic considering how she now had all the time in the world.

No matter. Tonight was not a night for melancholy remembrance. No, tonight she would revel and have fun. Well there was work too, but mostly fun.she hoped.

"Tell me again why we're here?" asked Methos breaking through her reverie. His dark hair was already a mess and they hadn't been there for more than five minutes.

"We're working!" replied Buffy all too brightly, "It's the best place to look for a head hunter. It's easier to find other immortals if you're in a crowded place. Duh."

"Right," said Methos, eyeing the sea of raging hormones referred to as the dance floor. He *really* did not want to go anywhere near it. It may be all good and fun for Buffy, and perhaps it was his old age, but he preferred staying at home with a nice book. Running his fingers through his hair for the thousandth time, Methos looked up just in time to catch the younger immortal throwing him a sly look. Raising an eyebrow at her instantly angelic demeanor, it occurred to him that Buffy clearly saw how he felt about this and was enjoying it way too much.

Still trying to figure out how he'd been talked into this, Methos felt a sudden tug on his hand. Glancing up from his reveries, he had only enough time to catch of glimpse of gold before he felt his entire body lurch from the force of Buffy's pull. He regained his bearings in time to find himself being dragged towards the dance floor, the very object or rather organism of his chagrin. Resigning himself to what was to come, Methos sighed. Fortifying himself like a warrior going to battle and facing insurmountable odds, he strode on.

Dragging Methos with her, Buffy weaved her way through a thick crowd of gyrating bodies on the dance floor. Emerging on the other side, she made a beeline towards the bar, the best place to get information anywhere. Pointing to the beer tap, she signaled the bartender and held up two fingers. The bartender didn't even pause as he simultaneously mixed a Manhattan, filled up 2 tankards, and listened sympathetically to another patron.

'Now *that's* multitasking,' observed Buffy admiringly.

It was a while before Methos was able to join her, they'd gotten separated somewhere in the sea of people. He looked scandalized by the whole experience. He'd lived through more than one age of debauchery, but it seemed being surrounded by horny, mindless teenagers was a bit too much for him. Picking up her tankard, Buffy tried valiantly to hide the amused grin that was threatening to split her face. He looked dazed and, she suspected, not the least bit happy.

Working quickly, she handed him the second tankard from the counter and seated him in an empty stool.

"Calm, Adam, calm" soothed Buffy jokingly.

"You love seeing me suffer, don't you?" Methos accused wryly. The shock of being immersed in body parts had worn off enough that he again looked relatively composed.

"Why whatever do you mean?" asked Buffy, looking innocent but for the mischief that lit her eyes. Seeing the unflappable ancient so uncomfortable was definitely an added bonus to the night out. Her amusement, however, was short lived.

Within the whirlwind of bodies, and music, a single awareness had overshadowed all else. An immortal; a powerful one. The noise around her silenced, and her world narrowed to two heartbeats. The one *Other*, and her. Closer and closer the other's heartbeat neared. 10 feet.5 feet. Buffy felt her blood freeze and then roar in her ears as the *other* made itself known. Stepping out of the crowd he walked calmly toward the bar, shook his head to the offer of beer from the bartender and simply stood.

"Chronos." Methos acknowledged the new comer with a frigid glare.

"Methos." Chronos nodded, his demeanor just as cold.

There was no love lost between the two.

It was a well known fact that Methos was a pacifist, and it was just as well known that Chronos sought out conflict like Methos avoided it.

The fact was greatly frustrating for Chronos. He usually preyed on the weaker of the immortals, the newly risen. Methos was the exception. As the oldest known immortal, Methos was his holy grail. It was unfortunate and damn annoying that Methos always such a cautious man. Under Law he need not accept challenges were he on sacred ground, and Methos *ALWAYS* ended up on sacred ground if he were challenged. In fact, Chronos would not be the least bit surprised if Methos had a bottle of holy water on his person at all times for emergency blessings.

The only thing that could possibly lure Methos out of his little shell would be his ridiculous sense of honor. And that.was what Chronos was determined to expose. Switching his focus, Chronos' gaze landed on Buffy, Methos' first pupil in over a millennium. Honor dictated that the mentor avenge the student and grief would no doubt make Methos sloppy.

He'd heard rumors of Buffy's power and he couldn't wait to test it. With a barely perceptible move, Chronos issued the age old challenge of one immortal to another. The chit's eyes widened and Methos reached inside his coat and fingered something.

'Oh God,' thought Chronos exasperatedly, 'is he reaching for the holy water?'

Buffy's innards did a little summersault as she took in the full impact of the challenge. Chronos was *old*..and powerful. Well, usually in the world where the game was dominant you didn't get to the old age without the power thing. Come to think of it, she would really have to get around to asking Methos how he'd survived for so long without dying. She'd kicked his ass more than once. Of course, she could always take the excuse he gave about him *letting* her win..nah.

Thinking of her past battles and Methos' training calmed her, if she could beat Methos she had to at least have a chance. 'Sides, from what she'd heard Chronos was used to weaker opponents. The big bully.

'I bet he has childhood issues,' thought Buffy cattily.

She would not be weak, far from it. To accept would be dangerous, yes, but to decline would be suicidal. Chronos was known for going to extremes to get his opponents to accept challenges and she refused to see those she cared for hurt. Again.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy accepted, "My life is yours for the taking, but only if you prove yourself worthy."

Their gazes clashed, and through mutual consent, both headed toward the door. Before Buffy could get past Methos, he intercepted her and gave her a last bit of advice, "Don't get sloppy, he's dangerous. I would miss you."

"Thanks," replied Buffy, quirking her lips, a morbid humor lighting her eyes, "But if I die, you can have my computer."