Author's note: Thanks once more for your incredibly helpful reviews. A special thank you to Cha Cha1 for pointing out a mistake made in an earlier chapter. I shall correct it as soon as I get the chance. Thanks again!
Buffy found sleep difficult to come by that night. Her mind swirled with troubled thoughts about their plan. It was easy to say the words to Methos, to tell him to take her out if he suspected her, but it was another entirely to realize that he meant it when he said yes. The saddened sincerity in his tone frightened her. How would he know if she had gone evil or not? What would she have to do or say to prove it to him?
What if she couldn't convince him? She would taste the same end that Angel had. Perhaps she deserved it. I died once, she thought bravely. I can do it again.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes angrily, looking towards the clock near the duvet that she slept on. It was three in the morning.
She was suddenly terribly homesick. She remembered countless times when she would wake up late at night and sneak into the kitchen only to find her mother in there, preparing some sinfully fattening desert. They usually didn't talk these nights, but there was always a mutual understanding and need for each other's company. Her mother may not have understood her life as the slayer, but she knew when her daughter was hurting and the two of them had an uncanny knack of waking up at the same time in the night.
She rolled out of bed and silently crept toward the kitchen area of Methos' apartment thinking that a late night snack sounded good even without her mother to make it for her.
She attempted to remove the dishes from the cupboard as quietly as possible but it was no use. Within moments she heard rustling within Methos' room and then watched as he emerged clad in his boxers and an open housecoat, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he headed towards the kitchen.
"I woke you up didn't I?" She wrung her hands slightly feeling guilty. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Methos reassured her. "I wasn't sleeping all that soundly to begin with."
"I was just going to make myself a snack," she said, her voice quiet even though they were the only ones in the apartment. "I can go back to bed though if you want to sleep."
"Don't be silly," Methos told her with a smile. "However if you're going to make something to eat feel free to feed me as well."
"You have two feet and a heartbeat," Buffy teased lightly. "What am I, Aunt Jamima?"
"No, but I'm an old man," Methos joked in return. "And up far past my bed time."
"Well then 'old man', you'd better sit down." Buffy pulled a chair from the table and winced as she felt her sore shoulder react to the effort. The day's training had been vigorous and Buffy's body had not fully healed yet. Methos sat down and removed his housecoat but said nothing. She mentally noted the state of natural sensuality that came from him simply sitting there with a sleepy look in his normally alert hazel eyes. She shook the thought away, wondering where it came from and proceeded to look for something edible.
"What are you making anyway?" Methos was asking her. She had opened the fridge to peak at the contents, but was unsure as to what it was she was looking for.
"I don't know." She admitted. "I couldn't sleep. I was thinking maybe warm milk or something? I heard somewhere that makes you sleepy."
"Load of bull," Methos replied shaking his head. "Although if there's chocolate milk in there, it might not be a bad idea just to try it…"
"There's no milk or chocolate milk." Buffy said with a frown. "Didn't you do any grocery shopping this week? There's only beer in here…and a lot of it."
"That can make you sleepy if you drink enough." Methos told her with a wink. Buffy chuckled, but shook her head.
"Last time I had a drink I nearly got eaten by a big demon snake." She smiled ruefully remembering Giles' words of reproach. "I won't make that mistake for a while."
"You'll have to tell me about that one some day." Methos told her, with a soft laugh. It was odd. Not many thing surprised him any more, and yet this girl constantly did so at every turn. He had seen so many things both natural, supernatural and immortal and yet in the short time he had known her, she had opened his eyes to so much more. He had a feeling that she was a wealth of interesting stories and experiences, that he had only begun to scratch the surface. He knew people like her were rare in that he would never grow bored. And yet she was mortal and a slayer to boot. He hated the idea that they would never have the time to share all their stories. She was just becoming comfortable with him, just beginning to fully trust him the way she trusted her friends back home.Think positively, he instructed himself. She could beat this if she believed in herself. He had to believe that as well.
He smiled softly once more as he watched her pad around the kitchen looking for something that could be considered a snack food. It occurred to him, as it never had before that in this room, at this moment, she was beautiful.
Oh sure, he had always known she was pretty, from the instant he saw her, but her attractiveness had been muted by grief and pain. She had appeared a martyr, or a fallen warrior to her. Here she was just a girl. A young girl granted, but a beautiful girl nonetheless.
There was nothing specific to mark the transformation. She wore only a simple light blue tank top with white pajama pants decorated with little yellow birds on them with the phrase 'chicks rule' written beneath them. It was cute, but not too cute. Her only jewelry was a simple silver cross that hung around her neck.
Her hair was in a hastily thrown together ponytail with bits and pieces falling out in different places, some curling into wispy blond tendrils that framed her face. She wore no makeup, but her face held a healthy glow to it that had previously been buried under pain and heavier thoughts. Here, in the darkened kitchen she seemed almost free.
He wondered if she was aware of just how alluring she seemed at that moment. She turned to him and held up a box of crackers grimacing slightly.
"Tell me you have cheese, otherwise all we're eating for a snack is crackers with beer on them."
"I'm game." Methos said with a grin. Obviously not. He watched her some more, realizing that regardless of how attractive she was at the moment, she still looked very much the seventeen year old child that she was. She was mature in many ways, but not as much as ways of the heart. She had a long road ahead before Methos could consider her his equal. He wanted her to live to see that road. She was still staring at him. "There's cheese in the bottom crisper I think."
Pulling the cheese she inspected it to make sure it was free of mold, mildew or anything else of suspicious nature. Finding it clean she proceeded to cut it into squares and melted it onto the Ritz crackers. When she set the plate in front of him he was smiling a secretive smile that worried her slightly.
"What?" She questioned, suddenly self conscious. "Is my hair sticking up in the air or something?"
"No, I was just enjoying this." Methos told her.
"This?" She questioned. "What do you mean?"
"This sitting here…me and you, having a midnight snack and not talking at all about Klossen, slayers, quickenings or me killing you." He smirked and picked up a cracker.
"More like a three AM snack, and now you've gone and jinxed it by brining it up." She pointed out, though the thoughts weren't as pressing on her spirit as they were lying in bed only moments ago.
"I think we can take it." Methos said confidently. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a gourmet chef slayer? These crackers are fantastic. You should become a cook."
"I wonder…" she trailed off as she considered his comment. "What will I do when this is over?"
"What do you mean?" He asked her. "I wasn't serious about the chef thing. I mean, not that the crackers aren't good, but that really shouldn't be something to base a career on."
"Not the cracker thing Mr. Sarcasm," she retorted. "I just mean….when this is over…if I win, what will I do? I mean, I can only stay here so long and impose on you. Eventually I have to figure out what to do with my life. I guess I never really had much of a future to worry about and now…"
She was beginning to look worried again and the old fears and doubts returned to line her features. Methos felt a weight descend onto his shoulders as he watched the transformation.
"Hey, let's jump off that bridge when we come to it OK?" He used her exact words to lighten the mood, but Buffy couldn't help but notice the 'we' in them. She bit her lip, wondering just how good a friend Methos considered himself. He was a wonderful person and had helped in more ways than he would ever know, but the idea that he considered himself a part of her permanent future made him seem too much like Angel. She remembered one night they had speant together in the cemetery talking and kissing when they should have been patrolling. Angel had asked her if she ever thought about the future.
"Angel when I think about the future, all I see is you," She had told him, meaning it with all her heart. "All I want is you." His response to her had been a simple "I know the feeling," but the emotion behind the words had told her all she needed to know. The look in Methos' eyes was telling her more than she wanted to know once more and she felt herself shift away from him slightly, nervousness creeping upon her replacing the earlier comfortability.
He felt her pulling away from him again and inwardly felt bad for pushing too hard. He had planned all along to try to convince her to go back to Sunnydale, but he was finding more and more that he wanted her to stay. He couldn't think of one good reason why she should other than he would miss her and that wasn't good enough, so he thought it best the topic be avoided all together until Klossen was dealt with. Obviously she felt differently.
"Methos, I…"
She was cut off by the sharp ring of the phone. Methos nearly hit the roof and the slayer gave out a short yelp of alarm. Reaching over to the counter, he picked it up as swiftly as possible.
"Yea?"
"You're awake?" The voice was Joe's on the other end sounding quite surprised. Methos was suddenly irritated by the watcher's interruption of their snack.
"No I'm talking to you in my sleep Dawson it's one of my special powers," he said sarcastically. "Of course I'm awake. The question is why are you awake…and calling me at three in the morning?"
"Bad news," Joe told them sadly. "Looks like our friend Klossen has struck again."
"How so?" Methos asked, his heart dropping at the thought.
"I was closing up the bar tonight when I opened the door to the back alley to throw some garbage in the dumpster. It wouldn't fit. The dumpster had about three corpses in it…looked like they might have been there a couple days. Above it, the word 'slayer' was written in their blood. He's getting impatient."
"Did you call Mac?" Methos asked, ignoring the sinking feeling of dread.
"Mac and Richie are both on their way down here." Joe confirmed. "I think it's time you told everyone what the plan is Methos. The others deserve to know what you're going to attempt here. This thing is getting way out of control."
"I agree," Methos replied shortly. "I'll see you soon."
"What did Joe say?" Buffy asked worriedly as she watched Methos hang up the phone and put his housecoat back on, tying it around his waist as he spoke. His face was a mask of calm determination. She didn't like it.
"We have to go to Joe's."
