Author's Note: The lyrics at the bottom (as well as the chapter title) are from a song by Alan Frew, off of his second album titled "Wonderland". All standard disclaimers apply for the borrowing of them.
The bus station was noisy, crowded, and incredibly large. It was the perfect place for an immortal to hide out from a foe, but a very poor place for two good friends to say good-bye.
All around them Buffy watched various friends and loved ones either embracing one another in excitement, or saying their tearful farewells. She felt an empathy for those saying good-bye and an envy for those eagerly embracing one another. There would be nobody waiting for her at the Sunnydale Bus terminal, and depending on how angry her friends and mom were, she knew it would be a long time before anybody would be throwing her a hearty welcome home party.
She knew it was something she deserved, but it didn't make the pill any less bitter to swallow.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Methos who walked beside her to her bus' platform. His face was neutral, and he didn't seem to be staring at anything in particular. She knew that meant he was trying to mask whatever he was feeling. He may be five thousand years old, but Buffy knew that you could only hide emotions to a point, no matter how old you were.
The idea that he was masking some deeper feelings gave her comfort. There would be no welcome home party, but neither would there be a 'yay she's gone party'. That helped.
"Are you hungry?" Methos was asking her. "You didn't really have anything breakfast related before we left."
"Oh no, actual food right now would be a no-no." She replied with a slight grimace. "I've got caffeine, that should tied me over till I get back."
"Are you sure?" He asked, his frown deepening. She found herself smiling at the image.
"Yes mom, I'll be fine." She chided. Methos looked a tad chagrined.
"Sorry, I don't really do normal good-byes." He shrugged somewhat helplessly. "When it comes to immortals, good-byes are never permanent because you know that you'll likely run into that same person at some point in the future, be it a hundred years or a hundred days. Either that, or the good-bye will involve a sword and a very unpleasant outcome."
"Well I won't live a hundred more years, and I'm not going to take your head, so we'll have to do this the ordinary mortal way."
"You're not an ordinary mortal." He spoke
softly, but there was a tenderness in his tone that caught her off
guard.
"I'm pretty standard fare as far as slayers go."
She replied with a modest shrug. He gave her a faraway smile.
"I'm not grading on a curve."
"Look Methos…" she paused, trying to figure out what it was she meant to say. "Let's not, OK? We already did the Hollywood-ish good-byes last night. We had the tears, the alcohol, and the cake. I don't really want to go back there OK?"
"Fair enough." Methos said with a resolute nod. "So how do you want to do this then? No tears, and no cake. I can't promise I won't have a beer when I get back home though…"
"Just….shake my hand and wish me good luck, OK?" Her voice sounded small, against the din and bustle of the busy bus station. His smile faltered slightly, but he nodded his assent.
"Can I possibly get a hug out of this arrangement?" He queried. He kept his voice light, so that she did not see the tired sadness that settled deep inside him. He had said good-bye to too many people in his life time and every time he did so, he lost a little bit of himself. Sometimes he wondered how much of himself was the guy that had existed as a mortal over five thousand years ago and how much was simply an amalgamation of all the people he had known and all the things he had seen. He'd lose part of himself when she left, but he would carry a bit of her around with him, just as he had done so with Celine. He wasn't sure if it was a fair trade, or a rip-off.
She was smiling warmly at him, bringing his mind back to his original question. Her bus pulled up behind them as she opened her mouth to answer.
"A hug I can do."
Methos leaned forward and embraced her gently at first, and then with a fierce determination to hold onto her just a little bit longer. People were already filing onto the bus and he knew he only had a few minutes with her left.
"This isn't forever you know." He told her firmly when they finally parted. He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her of that or himself, but it felt better to say it. "You can always come back to visit, for vacation, whatever. Anytime you like."
"Slayers don't really get a vacation." She said with a shrug. Her tone was casual, but the statement was laden with emotion. Methos could feel it reverberating off her. He didn't think she would ever get over the fury of being forced into a violent and short life. He was glad of that. Slayers were one of the cruelest ironies…children that never got to be children, adults that would never grow up. The shortest lived slayers tended to be the ones who accepted their fate to die young without question, who believed wholeheartedly in whatever their watcher's told them and trusted in them to keep them alive. Buffy loved her watcher, that he could see, but she would never see the logic or the sanity in the slayer legacy. She would fight for the lives of those around her because it was right, not because it was a birthright. And that, he knew would keep her alive. It was what set her apart.
He wanted to tell her this, to make her understand that her unwillingness to just accept her own mortality was what would ultimately prove her to be the strongest in the end, but he kept silent. She would not understand it fully. Not yet. When she did, Methos hoped he would be somewhere near by to see it.
"No vacations…" he tailed off with a sad smile. "Right."
"Maybe you could come to Sunnydale to visit me," she offered halfheartedly. "I mean, it's not that far from Seacover."
"Immortals don't really venture onto the hellmouth," Methos told her with a grimace. "It's not exactly good vibes there."
"So….this is good-bye then." She was firm, but not angry. "You don't have to lie to me Methos. If we'll never see each other again…I can handle that."
"I'm immortal." Methos stated. "The word never does not exist for me."
"And the word forever does not exist for me," she countered sadly. "We're kind of a contradiction."
"That's why I like you slayer," Methos said with a chuckle. "But I really do believe we'll see each other again. I do. If not here, then…somewhere. If you ever find yourself in Paris, look me up. I have a home there as well."
"Paris huh?" Her voice was wry, disbelieving and Methos knew that she didn't believe she'd ever make it out of Sunnydale again. He wished he could tell her just how deeply he knew in his soul that that was not the case, but she wouldn't believe it until she saw it. He would have to wait.
"We'll keep in touch." He said firmly. "Now get on that bus before it leaves without you."
Buffy turned to go, but found herself unable to do so without telling him how she really felt. Knowing she would be walking away from him, maybe for the last time was too much. She had to make sure he knew…
Turning back, she faced him, trying desperately to stick to her own rules of no tears or Hollywood good-byes.
"Before you go…the other night when you…when you kissed me…"
"We've been over that," Methos said with a dismissive wave. He wouldn't look at her. "Don't worry about it."
"But I want to," she told him quietly. His head snapped to alert and his eyes registered surprise before he could hide them. "I…I meant what I said before about it being too soon. I still…whenever I look at you, I still think of him. But…I also know that there's something there. I don't know what, or why, but…maybe someday…if I see you again, we can figure out what? I'm not asking you to wait or anything crazy like that, I just want you to know that…I thought about it. And someday it might not be as scary as it is now. Does that make any sense?"
"Perfect sense," he whispered hoarsely. He felt as if he had just won the lottery. "Thank you."
"See you later Methos." She murmured as she stepped onto the bus where the driver waited, foot tapping impatiently.
Methos watched, with a surprisingly light heart as the bus pulled out of the station and faded out of his line of sight. He stood there until nothing more could be seen of it, until finally turning away and heading for home.
Tonight he would go to Joe's rather than face the emptiness of his apartment. He would do his best to get so drunk he could barely stand and then hopefully pass out into an alcohol saturated oblivion.
Once the hangover wore off, he would continue on as he had before, a little older, a bit different but still living. Still surviving. It was what he did best. He would miss her, but she'd be back. He allowed himself a smile, before the buzz of a nearby immortal hit him and he was forced to look towards the offending party stepping off a bus.
It was a girl, approximately the age of twenty. She looked to be running from something, probably her first death. She was new. He could feel it. No, he thought to himself as he kept walking. All I want today is a drink.
The End
There was a girl
I saw in a dream
Rowing a boat
Across the sea
Me waiting for you
You waiting for me
I broke a glass
And I took the key
I risked it all for you
The right to win or lose
Heaven knows I stole more than I took
But I'll always
Put a rose in my book
For you
Put a rose in my book
And there was a time
When I had to be strong
Now I need a little faith
To carry on
I watch the black cars
Line up in the rain
Though not alone
The billboard said
I gave my love, my life
Oh but there's nothing left to fight for
Baby love's the road I took
But I'll always put a rose in my book
For you
Put a rose in my book
I played along
Just like a Romeo in rags
It's up to you now
We would sit for hours in the kitchen by the
window drinking coffee from a silver spoon
Under a silver moon
Oh but there's nothing left to fight for
Baby love's the road I took
Put a rose in my book
Put a rose in my book
For you
For you
For you
For you
"A Rose In My Book"
-Alan Frew
