The girl fought with incredible competence, despite her lack of a weapon. She had a grace and agility about her, that most centuries-old immortals had yet to acquire. He watched, spellbound as she avoided the deadly swish of the other immortal's sword with an uncanny skill that bordered on the preternatural. And yet...she was new to immortality. He could feel it. A new immortal's buzz was so distinct it could never be mistaken, especially not for one as experienced as he.
It was then it began to dawn on him. He watched her fight and everything started to click into place. Her youth, her strength, her grace and skill...how had he not realized it before? Slayer! His mind screamed at him. It had been so long since he had seen one, so long since he had watched a slayer fight.
His entire being was suddenly on full alert, humming with a mix of anxiety and emotion over this discovery. He had promised himself he would never seek out a slayer again, never involve himself in that world and yet here he was...and there she was. A slayer. And an immortal? He shook his head. No, that couldn't be right. She couldn't be both slayer and immortal...it was impossible. Wasn't it?
In his unnaturally long lifetime he had seen many unbelievable things. He had seen many slayers, and many vampires. He had seen slayers turned into vampires, though it was rare. Usually the change drove the slayer insane causing their normally finely tuned slayer abilities to become clumsy and awkward. Their succeeding slayer tended to take them out in short order. He'd never seen a slayer who had died and become immortal though. To his knowledge and experience it wasn't possible.
One slayer dies, the next one's called. That was the legend wasn't it? If the slayer were immortal there would be no one to succeed her. It would end the line permanently. Either that, or a new slayer would be called every time she died and came back. Both options altered the slayer legacy irrevocably. Methos had trouble wrapping his mind around the thought.
Walk away, his brain ordered him. She can handle herself, you know she can! There's no need for you to be here. He knew this much was true. Be it slayer or immortal, or both, she could clearly handle herself in combat and was in no need of his assistance. At least not for the fight. If the other immortal had been older, he might have presented a challenge, but this one was far too young and far too stupid.
Then why are you still here? His mind asked again. You can see she doesn't need you. Spare yourself the pain. He was about to listen to the inner voice, but something in him hesitated.
If she is an immortal, she's new. He reasoned with himself. And if she's an immortal slayer...well this is something the council should know about. She will need help. I can't walk away. And Methos knew this part of his brain was right. However much he wanted to, he was in this too deep to just leave her, no matter how competent she was.
"Hey you there in the coat!" The girl's voice startled him out of his thoughts and drew his attention back to the fight at hand. She had managed to knock the immortal's sword from his hand and was motioning between kicks and punches for Methos to pick it up. It was clear she wanted him to throw it to her, but remembering the look he had seen on her face earlier, he wasn't sure it was a good idea.
"To hell with the rules." He muttered, sick of the entire ordeal. Bending over, he swiftly retrieved the sword and as soon as he saw an opening, grabbed the immortal and ran him through. He hoped that it was enough to keep the immortal dead until he could fully explain to the young slayer/immortal what had truly happened. If he took the quickening right away, she would surely run from him and it was very likely he'd never see her again.
He slumped to the ground in front of the girl, dead for the time being, though Methos was conscious that he was on a time frame in that respect. Looking up, he was faced with the young slayer's eyes, full of horror and revulsion over what it appeared he had just done.
"You...you killed him." She whispered softly. Her petite frame had begun to tremble as she stared at the sword he still held with a mixture of fear and anguish.
"I know it appears that way, but it's not what it seems." He spoke calmly, attempting to ease her distress. He had been told in the past that some found his voice soothing. Clearly this young girl was not one of those people.
"Oh no? He's not dead then?" Her voice was higher in pitch now, bordering on the hysterical.
"Not really." He was getting impatient now, distracted by the naked pain he could see written all over her expressive features. "Besides, he was attacking you, so I wouldn't expect you to weep overly much even if..."
"I am NOT a killer!" The words left her mouth with startling ferocity. She stared once again at the bloody sword, her eyes glittering with emotions he couldn't define. For a moment, it was as if she was in another world, remembering another life. Then, quickly as she had gone, she shook her head and glared once more at him before speaking. "Not anymore."
With those words, he watched as she bolted away from him and the dead immortal into the night.
"Wait!" Methos called out, realizing it was futile even as he did so. Anger bubbled up inside of him as he looked down at the dead immortal and realized a choice had to be made. Kill him, take the quickening and go home and forget about everything he had seen, or let him live, chase the slayer and get himself even further involved in something that was only going to hurt him in the end. He swore in Latin before dropping the sword belonging to the other immortal and taking off after the slayer.
