Chapter 4

Stepping under the hot shower was bliss, and Cordelia made sure to enjoy it to its fullest extent. Yes, this felt so good. With her eyes closed she allowed the water to pound the caked blood into submission, until it started pouring off of her. And only once the worst was gone, making her feel human again, did she open her eyes.

As expected, the water was red. Looking as if someone had dumped a can of red paint in it, or as if someone had bled to death. Something that was far closer to the truth. But despite the many wounds she'd suffered during the day, the blood wasn't all hers.

Next to her in the large cabin was a young girl, a girl she was only now starting to understand had been hiding just like her. Whereas Cordelia Chase was a complete fabrication, Dawn Summers was real, but had been changed by the magic unleashed by Ethan Rayne.

And ever since that fateful Halloween she'd been acting as if she was an innocent little girl, acting as if she wasn't a cold-blooded killer her actions today showed she was. But even now, after having seen the girl's handiwork, and even experiencing it firsthand, it was still hard to accept. Her behavior was creepy, even now under the shower. Unlike her, Dawn wasn't enjoying the water, but instead vigorously scrubbing all evidence from her body.

The look of concentration on the girl's face as she checked her fingers for any sign of blood could in Cordelia's opinion only be described as cute. Cute as hell even, although that kind of thing shouldn't be mentioned on the Hellmouth. Still, it kinda reminded her of the way Hazel could sometimes act.

An almost physical pain surged through her body at that thought. Hazel, how she missed her sister. The girl had suffered as much as she had when their father died, and then she'd had to suffer even more as her brother and sister died. Something that had turned her into a shell of the girl she once was, and the woman she could have become. The three of them had been so close, and Cordelia could only imagine how it must have been for Hazel and their mother to suddenly lose another two members of their family.

But the worst part was perhaps that they'd lost only a single member, as she had survived. Even in those years before she met Amanda though, Cordelia, or rather Cisiphone, had wandered the land alone. Never going close to anyone she cared about, fearing that they would suffer because of the curse she bore.

It had been a time of confusion for her, a time during which she couldn't understand what was going on. Why was she still alive? What was her purpose in life? Why couldn't she die? Had some higher being arranged for her to live? Had it been God, or the devil? And did either of those two even exist anymore? Because how could a kind and just God allow what had happened to her?

And for that matter, how could He have allowed what she did to those men? She spent years searching for the answers to those questions, but never found them. While that was a disappointment, there was also the fact that she changed in ways she hadn't imagined. Where Callidora had been a mostly useless creature, a product of her times, Cisiphone had been capable of taking care of herself. A lesson that was learned the hard way.

The very hard way. Even now, remembering the times she'd died of things like food poisoning wasn't easy to handle. And those were the good times. While some things did indeed kill her, it was the things that didn't kill her that taught her the value of knowledge about herbs. Dying was usually a fairly quick event, with a few painful exceptions.

There were those times that she encountered something her Immortal constitution handled enough to keep her alive, but not enough to stop it from hurting...

That had been bad.

She'd spend hours rolling over the ground from pain, holding herself. But in the end, she always got back up, and continued walking. It was only much later that she realized how different she was from the young woman who had been stabbed after those brigands had been done raping her. She was so different, that she probably could have returned home to look in on Hazel and mother without having to fear being recognized.

Gone were the pretty dresses, making way for more functional garb. No longer did she bathe on a daily basis, or have her make-up applied. Even her hair had been cut short because it was too difficult to handle the way it used to be.

She was the woman who lived in the woods. And it wasn't long before rumors had started about her, although she never knew about that until Amanda had told her about them. But there were others who heard about it, others who figured out what she was. And they wanted her head. And because of one of those headhunters she was brought back to civilization.

She clearly remembered when that had happened. It had been a nice summer day, and it was while walking through the forest, traveling from one town to the next, that she heard the clashing of swords. The years of solitude had enhanced her already great curiosity, and she had gone to check it out. Arriving at the clearing, she was surprised to find that there were only two people present.

A man and a woman. Within minutes it was obvious that they were both very good with their weapons, both having a level of skill that far outclassed that of anyone she'd ever seen. Including even Charles. Later she would realize how much sense it made for these two to be so much better, but when she first laid eyes on the scene, she had no idea that both of these people were hundreds of years old.

The battle between the two raged on though, and she had hidden herself far enough that they wouldn't be distracted by her. More out of self-preservation than anything else. But when the woman suddenly made a mistake and was disarmed, she made a decision. It didn't matter to her that the woman was obviously as good as the man, all she could think of was the time when she herself had died.

"There can be only one," Cordelia whispered while remembering how the man spoke those same words.

"What?" Dawn interrupted her thoughts, while looking at her a bit strangely, making Cordelia realize she had been staring at the young girl.

"Sorry, I was immersed in thoughts there for a moment."

The girl seemed to understand that, and told her it wasn't a problem, before asking another question. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. It's just that some of these memories..." she trailed off while considering the best way to put it. Suddenly she shrugged, and decided she might as well tell Dawn a bit about it. Maybe the girl would return the favor later on. "Well, I was thinking about the time after I retrieved the sword."

"What did you do then? I take it you didn't go home."

"No, I didn't. How could I? I was a member of the walking dead, or at least that's what I thought at the time."

"You don't think so anymore?"

"No, vampires are the walking dead, as are zombies, but my kind is alive. Our hearts beat, we need oxygen to breathe, everything."

"You mentioned hiding your Quickening earlier, what did you mean by that?"

Hadn't she explained that already? Furrowing her brow in thought, Cordelia realized that she had indeed forgotten to do so. "The Quickening is also used to identify ourselves to others of our race. We can feel each other's Quickening, although I'm not sure if feel is the right word. Sense maybe, it's hard to describe."

"Right," Dawn nodded, "so you made sure nobody else could sense you, while also hiding somewhere they wouldn't come."

"Yes."

"One thing I'm wondering about though, how come you didn't heal this fast before? You spent a couple of days in the hospital after you got speared, and I've seen you walk around with bruises and stuff."

Heal, good thing Dawn started about it herself, or she might have forgotten again. "Turn around, I want to check your back now that it isn't completely covered in blood." The girl did as she was told, and when she turned around Cordelia was shocked by how bad the wound actually was. How could she have walked around with that? Or better yet, how could she have dragged people around with a wound like that?

"It's pretty bad, isn't it?" Dawn asked in a calm voice.

"No, it's not-"

But the girl didn't even let her finish the sentence. "Don't lie to me, that doesn't help me. I know my body well enough to know that the damage is pretty severe. Please describe the wound for me."

Cordelia wasn't exactly happy with that thought, it wasn't that she'd never seen wounds before, but it usually was either her own, which would heal, or far enough away that it didn't concern her. Being so close to such an ugly looking wound wasn't something she enjoyed. "Alright. It's a single diagonal slash, going down from your collar bone about two thirds of the way to your right hip."

In a monotonous voice she then started to describe the particulars, while putting her fingers on the skin surrounding the start of the wound near her shoulder. Compared to the rest of her body, the skin was slightly hotter there, indicating Dawn's body was doing its best to repel the infection that was undoubtedly starting to set in. She then traced the wound down the girl's back, in an attempt to see if there was any region in particular that was more painful, causing Dawn to shiver.

It might not be the nicest way to diagnose a wound, but Cordelia hadn't needed a doctor for centuries, and had never bothered with learning how to become one either. While nowadays it was possible for her to take on such a job, it required a study of a length that would tax her abilities of disguise. And what was the use of spending years and years of study if it meant she'd have to move on shortly after finishing?

Of course, she didn't need to specialize that far, but then what was the use of doing it at all? It wasn't like anyone but a specialist actually held the status that would be her only reason for learning to be a doctor. "Cordy?"

Once again Dawn had shaken her from her thoughts, what was with her today? Was the constant tension getting too much for her? Well yeah, she'd already admitted that to herself, but that didn't mean she could simply space out. "That's about it, actually. Here, let me take a washing cloth and I'll clean it up."

When she was done cleaning the wound, or at least as much as she could do while under the shower, she had Dawn scrub her back clean of any remaining blood as well. Only then, when she was fairly certain both of them were as clean as they'd get, did Cordelia turn of the shower and got out.

Handing a big fluffy towel to the girl whose behavior reminded her of her own sister, she couldn't help but stare at the scars that decorated Dawn's torso. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked, while toweling her hair dry.

Extending her hand so that she could touch the ugly scar on the girl's abdomen, Cordelia repeated her question. "This looks pretty bad, did you have to take care of that wound yourself as well?"

"Something like that. I messed up during a mission. It was a good lesson."

"A good lesson? My god girl, a wound like that could kill you."

"Only if it goes untreated for too long. It didn't."

Slowly Cordelia traced her hand from scar to scar, only dimly wondering why she touched Dawn so much. "So many," she then whispered. "So many wounds, and nobody ever noticed?"

"None of you at least."

"Your friends?"

"They know."

How had those two found out then? Cordelia didn't know the two kids very well, although they did hang around in the same crowd of the rich. It didn't matter right now though, there were more important things to do. Quickly she dried herself off, wrapping a towel around her soaking wet hair, before demanding Dawn's towel. "I'll do your back, otherwise you'll probably only make it worse."

As Dawn nodded and turned around, Cordelia once again winced while looking at her back. In the shower she'd only paid attention to the open wound, but now she could see that the girl's back was just as decorated with scars as the front. What had she been doing? This wasn't normal, not even for the Hellmouth, and only served to make her more curious.

"Done," she whispered when she was had finished drying the rest of the girl. Alright, time to deal with the wound. Hanging the towel to dry, she put on a robe herself, picked up a dry towel, and after handing that to Dawn she opened the medicine cabinet. "Okay, I'm not good at this stuff. What do we need to disinfect the wound?"

In a calm and easy voice, something Cordelia admired even more now that she'd seen the extent of the damage, Dawn directed her to the appropriate medicines. "Yes, and the one next to that as well. That's all."

"Good. Now, let's get you lying on a bed, so we can do this." The walk to the master bedroom was short, but its normality almost freaked Cordelia out. Below her, only a couple of meters away, there were a bunch of bodies. The people posing as her parents, and the four people that had attacked her. It just didn't feel right to walk around with bare feet in such a situation.

But it wasn't long before they'd reached the room, and taking the towel from Dawn, Cordelia spread it out on the bed before directing the girl to lie down on it. "So, what do I do first?"

Another lesson in medicine followed, until she knew what to do and could spend some of her attention on other things. "Tell me a little about yourself Dawn, or do I call you Kirika?"

Dawn stiffened a bit, and Cordelia had to wait until she had calmed down again before continuing her ministrations. "Dawn, I'm Dawn."

"Alright Dawn. I've told you a part of my life's story. Why don't you return the favor? In particular the part about you being an assassin, because now that I think about it, there were a number of strange deaths. Like that vampire during Halloween, or that costume-shop owner."

It remained silent for a couple of minutes, but Cordelia was patient and waited for Dawn to speak up. "During Halloween I was Kirika, she didn't know how to kill vampires."

"Everybody knows that," Cordelia scoffed, "it's in every cheesy movie ever made."

"Kirika didn't really have a normal upbringing, she never really watched television, she preferred the company of her own thoughts. Not that they had television where she grew up anyway."

"That anime show she's from, that didn't take place in the eighteenth century or something, did it? Because I've got a hard time believing anyone is without a television these days."

"No, it took place about eleven years from now."

"In the future? But without access to any fashion shows?"

"I, she, grew up in the Manor. A place outside of time. Except for the weapons, it might as well have been the eighteenth century."

"Huh, weird. I can't believe anyone would voluntarily live without all these wonderful things people have nowadays. But then, I never understood monks, hermits, or even nuns either."

"It was where Noir was trained. Well, Chloe and I at least." Again with the I, didn't the girl know whether or not she was this Kirika? "Mireille was taught by her uncle."

"And who are they?"

"Kirika's partners, she knew Chloe for a long time, and after she had lost her memory she'd contacted Mireille."

"So, I take it they're assassins as well?" Cordelia asked while looking around to see where she'd put the bandage. She had finished putting all the stuff, she'd forgotten the name already, on Dawn's back and now it was time to mummify the girl.

"Yes, but they had completely different personalities."

Of course they had, that's the way humans work. "You liked them though."

Dawn uttered a deep regretful sigh. "Yeah, I did. Chloe was interesting to watch while she was doing her job, she was really into it you know. And Mireille..." Another deep sigh, although this one sounded more longing than regretful. "Mireille was my other half."

"Your other half? What were you married or something?" Cordelia asked before telling Dawn to sit up so she could put the bandages around her.

The girl did so, and while doing so turned her head so that she could look at Cordelia. "No, not like that. But she completed me, she was the other half of Noir. The other half of the perfect team of assassins."

"Well, I don't know where you hid it all this time, but you've sure got an ego going on, don't you?"

"Perhaps."

"And Chloe? You said she was your partner as well. How did that work, if this Mireille already was."

"Chloe wanted to be the other half of Noir. In the end, I was forced to choose, Mireille's life for Chloe's."

"You killed her." This time it was Cordelia who could make a statement.

"Yes." Dawn winced as Cordelia pulled the bandages a bit too tight. "There was no choice and shortly after that Mireille and I became Noir. We never really finished the ceremony, but I'm pretty sure things went as Altena thought they would."

Another name, but this time she'd had enough of them and refrained from asking. At least about that Altena character. "What's so special about becoming Noir then?"

"Noir is a class apart, there is nothing quite like it. The best of the best, and all that."

"You sound like some kind of bad movie," Cordelia noted.

"Thanks," Dawn said in a neutral tone, leaving her to wonder whether the girl had just thanked her, sarcastically, for the comment, or for finishing with the bandages.

"You're welcome."

"Do you have some clothes I can borrow?"

"I might, I'm not sure if it'll be a good fit though."

A shrug from Dawn showed how much she cared about that. "As long as I don't have to walk around naked."

Well, she had a point there, Cordelia conceded before showing Dawn the closet. "Here, pick what you like."

"This is your bedroom?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

"It's the biggest one, I figured it belonged to your parents."

Anthony, Patricia. Once again Cordelia had to close her eyes to deal with the pain of those memories. "Not my parents, servants. And remember, I'm a spoiled brat, so I get the biggest bedroom."

"Right." Dawn whispered while looking the clothes over. Cordelia did the same and quickly picked out a decent enough outfit, for once not bothering to achieve the perfect look. The two of them then dressed in silence, until they finally walked downstairs again where Dawn showed her the room with the bodies. An experience Cordelia could have done without.

"What a mess." The smile that flashed across Dawn's face drew her attention away from the grisly scene however. "What?"

"You really are so much like her," the girl whispered in wonderment.

"Like who?"

"Mireille."

"I'm like one of your assassin friends? Somehow I'm not too happy about that comparison."

Dawn's eyes flashed in restrained anger as she speared her with a look. "Don't talk like that about Mireille. She was no common assassin. She was... Mireille."

Right. And the girl was sure that this Mireille was only a partner? Somehow Cordelia doubted the truthfulness of that statement. Not that she planned on pissing off Dawn so she decided an apology was probably in order. "Whatever. I didn't mean to denigrate her or anything, it just came as a surprise, that's all."

But it didn't matter anymore. Dawn had already turned back to the scene, not bothering to continue that discussion. "We'll need to move them. There is a van in the garage, I take it that doesn't belong to you?"

"A van? What would I want with something as common as that? Who do I look like, Oz?"

"The easiest thing would probably be to put the bodies in, and drive it off a cliff."

"And how will we get back here then? Call a cab?" Cordelia asked sarcastically.

"What? No, you drive your car, I'll drive the van."

"You can drive?"

"Who can't?"

Well, that was just too easy. "Your sister for one."

x.x.x

As always, there wasn't much that Methos, also known as Adam Pierson, enjoyed more than nursing a beer. Well, there were things, but they weren't exactly things civilization found acceptable to do in public.

He missed MacLeod though, not the complications that always came with his friend, but he was used to seeing the Scot in Seacouver.

Unfortunately, MacLeod was out on some kind of buying trip and had therefore not been here when he arrived. And to make matters worse, the man had neglected to keep some decent beer in his fridge, ensuring that breaking into his loft had been an exercise in futility.

Which brought him here, to the only other place in Seacouver he could be certain that nobody would bug him about paying for his drinks. Not that Joe never mentioned the tab he had running, but his mortal friend never demanded that he'd actually pay it. Which had turned it into a game for Methos. He wanted to see how high the tab could go before Joe would actually demand he'd pay it.

It wasn't that he couldn't afford it either, while he wasn't exactly rich, living for over 5000 years did ensure one usually had some things to fall back on. A house here, some priceless antique he'd bought for almost nothing there, an estate in that country, and a castle in another. Okay, if you started counting it all it would probably amount to quite a bit.

But where would the fun be if you couldn't bother your friends for free drinks? With a feeling of supreme contentment he emptied his glass of liquid gold and waved his empty glass at Joe, his silent request for a refill.

Joe brought him the fresh glass, and sat down at the same table. "So, how long are you going to be in town?"

"I'm not sure," Methos started when he was suddenly distracted by the all too familiar feeling of the buzz. An immortal was near.

While keeping up his part of the conversation, he scanned the bar, quickly coming to realize what he'd already suspected. It was someone from outside, and whoever it was would probably come in here. Luckily for him, Methos didn't have any trouble hiding the fact that he felt the buzz, and under the guise of talking to Joe he was gearing for action.

Every time he encountered another Immortal could be the last time, every time it happened his long life could come to an end. And every time it happened he wanted to make sure that it wasn't his life that would end. Adrenaline started flooding his system, bringing everything to a state of readiness, and he moved ever so slightly to ensure that if the worst came about he had a clear path to the door.

He didn't like fighting, especially when it was a fair fight. Not because he couldn't stand his own, but because there were always a chance that something happened that he hadn't been able to plan for. Of course, if that was the case he wondered why he was hanging around MacLeod so much. If there was anyone that attracted violence it was the Highlander.

Still, he had no intention of actually fighting whoever it was that came through the door. It couldn't be MacLeod, Joe had told him that it would be at least several days before the Highlander returned. So he had to assume that whoever it was was a danger to him, and blending into the crowd would help him in that regard. It was difficult to recognize an Immortal if he didn't show he was feeling the buzz as well.

Of course, the fact that from his current position he could watch the door through its reflection in the mirror over the bar would give him a decent advantage as well. Those first seconds were always the most important, and if it was someone after his head, instead of any random head, he would be able to shoot the Immortal before he or she reached him.

When the door opened however, he noticed with relief that it was only Richie. The boy was far from a danger and it was unlikely he would ever attack Methos. Especially after the way he'd helped when it came to dealing with that Ahriman demon. By the gods, how could MacLeod have lived for so long without ever discovering the existence of demons?

Who knew what might have happened if he hadn't been around during that event, the demon might have actually succeeded in its goal. Not that he knew what that goal might have been, but it couldn't have been a good thing. From what he remembered of Ahriman the creature used illusions, usually of people who had died, to further its goal.

Which was the reason he'd believed the lunatic who'd come to tell MacLeod that he was the Champion. Right, the Champion. If there ever was a title Methos had no intention of bearing it was that one. When it came to mystical matters, a Champion was always some plaything of the Powers that Be. The supposedly all-powerful guardians of the human race.

Powers that Be, hah! They were about as useful as the Knights That Say "Ni!". And about as nice as well. The stories he'd heard about how they treated their Champions weren't describing things he wanted MacLeod to suffer. Not that he couldn't understand why they would sacrifice a couple of people to ensure something better would happen later on, he was after all able to benefit from those experiences. But their cavalier attitude to human lives bothered him.

Yes, Methos realized that was ironic when considering his own past, but he had never claimed to be helping the human race either. Anyway, while these thoughts had crossed his minds in a matter of moments, he needed to bring his attention back to the door. While Richie wasn't a danger to him, he was now able to recognize that there was more than a single buzz.

He tensed up slightly again, until he recognized the shapely woman who walked through the door. Her repetition of Richie's scanning of the room was far better hidden, but when her eyes landed on him she called out. "Joe, Adam! Darlings, it's been too long."

His quiet time of drinking was over now, Amanda had arrived. Taking the still full glass, he emptied it in one pull before a grin crossed his face. Well, it might not be quiet anymore but, aside from bringing even more trouble than even MacLeod, Amanda did know how to have a good time.

"Amanda, Richie. Sit, have a drink. This one's on me, would you mind putting it on my tab Joe?" Maybe paying, or rather not paying, for the drinks of other people would make Joe demand he'd actually pay the tab.

"Adam? Is that really you?" Richie asked a bit uncertain.

"What?" he answered while checking himself. Nope, nothing seemed wrong, and a quick look in the mirror showed him that he still looked the same as well. "Is something wrong?"

"Paying for a drink? I don't remember you ever buying me something before."

"Oh shut up, you young pup," Methos answered a bit irritably. He was paying now, wasn't he? Well, not really of course but that wasn't the point.

"No, no. You see, I always see you leach from someone, and now that I'm seeing you buy something, I simply have to enjoy the moment."

"Wonderful," he said, before turning his head to look at Amanda who had already taken a seat. "And you? Are you going to say something as well?"

"I wouldn't dream of it." Good. He nodded his agreement with that statement and was about to turn away from her as well when she went on. "After all, unlike Richie, I know how to enjoy a miracle in silence."

"Children, all of them," Methos sighed while turning back to Joe who was obviously struggling with his composure. "Can you believe them? They can't even accept a free drink. Well, in that case, why don't I take three beers and let them pay for themselves?"

This obviously didn't sit well with Richie. "Hey! You said you'd get me a drink, you're not going back on your word are you?"

"And why should I give anything to people who don't appreciate it? If I'd known how people nowadays react to being given a free drink, I'd never have offered it. When I'm offered a drink, do you see me being suspicious of the one giving it to me?"

"Adam, you're always suspicious," Joe said as he entered the discussion.

"Thank you for helping me Joe, but have you ever heard me complain when someone offers me a drink?"

"Only when it's not what you want," Richie sighed, probably already seeing that he couldn't possibly win this.

"Exactly, so why should you complain? Do you do the same when a beautiful woman offers you a drink? Maybe a cup of coffee after you've brought her home?"

"No, but this is you we're talking about. The one leach to rule them all."

Okay, that was a pretty funny line. But still... "There were times-"

"When having someone leaching from you was a sign of status," the other three more or less finished. The impact probably would have been greater if they'd done so simultaneously, but he was happy they remembered nonetheless.

"Exactly."

"You've given Mac that line so often it's not even funny anymore. And you usually did so after he complained you'd just emptied his stash of beer."

"I'm being kind to him. He could use a boost where it comes to his status," Methos explained.

"Speaking of Duncan," Amanda cut in while turning to Joe. "Do you happen to know when he'll return? I didn't expect him to be gone when I arrived."

Amanda had only arrived here today as well? Now that was a coincidence, of course he should have realized that considering he hadn't seen any of her things in MacLeod's place. But as he was interested in Joe's answer as well, he listened to what the Watcher had to say.

"No, he told me it wouldn't take more than a week, but you never know for sure."

Now that was the truth, MacLeod was so easily distracted. A nice pair of legs here, a headhunter there. Never a dull moment for the Highlander. "He left two days ago, didn't he?" Methos asked for confirmation.

He already knew the answer, as both Richie and Joe had told him the same thing, but he just didn't like it when he couldn't make use of MacLeod's hospitality.

"Yes," Joe answered. "So he should be back in about five days. More than enough time for you to empty my beer supply."

"You wound me Joe, that's really not a nice thing to say."

"Ah, is the poor old man hurt?" Richie teased him, trying to get back in the game after his sound defeat earlier.

Methos only smirked though, before loudly wondering what kept his drinks. A wave from Joe to the bartender sped up the process, without the mortal having to use his prosthetic legs. But when they were finally delivered, it wasn't the three beers he'd demanded. "What's this?"

"On the house, Adam, on the house," Joe answered Methos while the other two thanked the mortal.

"You thank him, but you ridiculed me? And you dare call yourselves my friends?"

"Don't worry Adam, while we call Duncan a friend, you are his personal leach. We don't have to do the same to you," Amanda answered before sipping from her glass of wine.

"Oh thank you very much, that's too kind of you." He was starting to get curious by now though. "What brings you here anyway?"

"There's a problem I was hoping Duncan could help me with."

Putting the cold beer to his lips, Methos couldn't resist rolling his eyes, and muttering. "What else is new?"

"I'm not in any trouble!" Amanda exclaimed in pointed denial, before toning her reaction down a bit. "Well, at least not from the law."

"Really? You haven't stolen anything lately?"

"Of course not! Who do you think I am?"

Methos only raised one of his eyebrows, while both Richie and Joe blinked in surprise. "Amanda?"

"Alright, but it's nothing that can be traced back to me. And it has nothing to do with my situation either. Which is more of an, ah old, matter."

She had Immortal trouble? Well, in that case it might just be that he'd overstayed his welcome. Maybe he should go take a short break, somewhere warm, maybe California. He could come back to speak with MacLeod in about a month or two. There were a lot of fun things he could do while the Highlander was working on getting Amanda out of trouble.

"What's the problem then?" Richie asked in a hushed tone while leaning over the table, causing Methos once again to roll his eyes. Wouldn't the youngster ever learn how to hide what he was doing?

"It's not so much something that's happening to me, as it is to my students," Amanda said a bit nervously.

Her students? What could be the problem then? Now he was getting a bit curious himself, Amanda in trouble was nothing new, but Amanda in trouble through someone else... Okay that wasn't new either, but at least it was a variation of the usual theme. "What do you mean?"

"I-" she started, but was cut off when the bartender called out to her.

"Amanda?"

With a look of displeasure on her face, the beautiful woman turned around. "Yes?"

"You've got a phone call," the bartender answered while nodding at the phone he was covering with his hands.

"I'm coming," she answered him, before turning back. "We'll continue this in a minute."

"Of course," Methos told her, wondering who the caller could be. It wasn't like none of them ever received a call here, but it didn't happen very often either. And when it did it was usually rather important. But aside from a surprised 'Callie?' he couldn't hear what she was saying and turned his attention back to the others.

"Did she tell you anything Richie?" Joe asked, obviously unaware of Amanda's problem as well. Which in itself was interesting as he was usually the first to know if something went on with one of them. After all, despite the fact that they never found him, the Watchers were rather good at their job.

"No, she was looking for Mac, and when he wasn't around she wasn't very happy. Which is why I proposed coming here, maybe you'd have more recent information on where he was."

"I couldn't discuss the reports from his Watcher, but even if I could there wouldn't be anything new to tell you." In other words, Joe hadn't heard anything.

"His Watcher? But you're his Watcher aren't you?"

"I've gotten a bit too old to run around after him the entire time, and with the amount of attention he receives from Immortals, it was decided that an additional Watcher might not be a bad idea. Especially one he wouldn't know about."

"You sneaky bastard," Methos said admiringly, "you actually managed to have him tagged without him knowing about it? I can't wait to tell MacLeod about that, it'll make my day."

"Don't say anything to him Adam, he'll just be spending all day looking over his shoulder and trying to discover who it is. You know how he is."

"But shouldn't he know who his Watcher is?" Richie asked with a frown on his face, before emptying his glass.

"He'll always have a Watcher Richie and just because he's friends with Joe doesn't mean MacLeod can expect the same thing with his future Watchers. No, I think Joe is right here, it's best if he doesn't know. No matter how much I would've loved to see his face."

By the time he finished that he noticed Amanda hanging up the phone and walking back to them. He frowned when he noticed how white her face looked though, but refrained from speaking until she had reached them. "What is it?"

"That was one of my students, Callidora, and she proved that my problem is bigger than I thought."

"How so? And what's your problem anyway? And for that matter, who is Callidora? I can't remember ever hearing about her."

"Callie was born in England, probably halfway during the seventeenth century, she is, was, some kind of noblewoman when she had her first death. Probably someone well known, although she always tells conflicting stories about who her family actually was."

"Couldn't she just be some kind of fraud then? I mean, pretending to be a noblewoman?"

"You obviously never lived in that time Richie," Methos laughed. Seeing the hurt look on the boy's face he decided to explain his comment. "Nobody but a noblewoman herself could ever claim such a title. Not that there weren't people who tried, but no matter what you say about the nobility, and I can say a lot about them, they could recognize a fraud."

"Not always," Amanda smiled, reminding him that she'd undoubtedly pretended to be highborn for easy access to something shiny she wanted. "While it's true that it wasn't exactly easy to hide the fact that you were a farmer's wife, the only things you really needed to gain access to them was the right accent, knowledge of etiquette, being able to fake an education, and some nice excuses why your favorite aunt or other family member couldn't be reached. If you had to stay among them longer it would have become more difficult though."

"Ugh, why would you ever want to stay among such a useless bunch of people for long?"

"They weren't all useless," Amanda interrupted, "although most of the women, and a fair number of the men, were pretty useless pieces of decoration, there were a number of decent people as well. The only problem the women had was that they had to hide any intelligence they might possess, it wasn't usually a desired trait."

She took a deep breath then, before trying again. "Anyway, as I was saying, Callie had been killed together with her brother, that much I know for sure, and had gone to exact revenge on those that did so."

"Wait a minute, one of those pieces of fluff was going to do some fighting?"

"I don't understand why you constantly underestimate them, Adam, didn't you pay any attention to what they were doing?"

"Are you kidding? I stayed away from the nobility as much as I could. So, where and when was this? England? During that civil war with the useless king?"

Amanda appeared surprised that she hadn't told them that yet, but quickly corrected her omission. "England yes, but after the Restoration. Although for some reason Callie liked Charles I, probably something to do with her family I guess. She also used to go on and on about how she would have married a peer of the realm if she hadn't been killed. I think she would have been happier if that had happened."

"No, really? Someone would be happier if they hadn't died?" Methos exclaimed in mock surprise. "What is this world coming to?"

"Shut up Adam, I was explaining the situation here. Anyway, she had gone on a rampage before starting to live in the woods. During that time she tried to remain alone, although she didn't stop killing. Maybe you heard of her during that time, she called herself Cisiphone."

Methos thought about it, but quickly concluded that he hadn't heard about anyone with that name. "No, sorry. I take it she named herself after one the Furies though?"

"Yes, one of her failings. She always chooses a name that starts with a C," Amanda nodded.

Well, he couldn't be entirely sure of course, but it seemed to him that keeping the same letter was better than keeping the same name entirely like certain other people did. But he would remain quiet, no point in upsetting Amanda even more.

"How did the two of you meet then?" Richie asked, while Joe looked intently on. Somehow, Methos thought amused, he had a feeling that if Joe believed he could spare a moment he would've collected pen and paper, and been busy writing things down.

"I was Challenged," Amanda started her explanation.

"Challenged? By her?"

"Oh no, she had no idea what she was at the time. No, it was Svenson, or Stevenson, or something like that. A big Scandinavian brute who was about to kill me when Callie came running up." She shook her head at that memory before going on. "The crazy girl thought she couldn't die so didn't even try to ward off the blows. Her actions must have scared Svenson though, as he didn't kill her.

"Or rather," she mused, "didn't succeed in actually killing her. And by the time she'd planted her sword through his heart it was a bit too late for him."

"You're telling me that someone untrained defeated an Immortal who by the sounds of it had you on your knees?" Methos asked incredulously.

"Yes. Of course you realize that Svenson hadn't exactly expected anyone to interfere with the challenge, so wasn't prepared for something like that. And let me tell you as well that someone who doesn't care about getting hurt at all is not someone you want to face in a fight. Ever."

Oh, she didn't have to tell him that, Methos had seen enough people like that in his life. Luckily most of them were mortals, but even they were far too dangerous. He could see from Joe's expression that he'd encountered some people like that in Vietnam as well, but, despite his experience on the streets of Seacouver, this seemed new to Richie.

Lucky kid. "So, I take it this Callidora took Svenson's head."

And this was where Amanda started laughing, despite all the problems she was presumably having at the moment. "No, not really. She believed she was done when he fell over. She then came over to me, despite all her wounds and tried to help me. I wasn't exactly in a great state at the time however, and it took me a while to tell her what she needed to do. The look she gave me was priceless, every time I think about it I have to laugh."

"If you laughed then as well, I'm half-surprised she didn't take your head as well."

"Oh no, even after I'd explained to her what he was she didn't take his head. Of course, I didn't know she was nobility at the time, otherwise I might not have asked her to do it in the first place, but that look." This time she laughed so hard that the other patrons in the bar looked over to see what was going on. And it was only after a couple of minutes that she'd regained enough breath to continue speaking.

"Anyway, I was the one who had to take on the ah 'dirty' job of beheading a corpse. Not that she didn't stay to watch or anything, apparently she didn't have any trouble with seeing it done, she just didn't want to get her hands dirty. And of course, as a result we shared that Quickening."

"You shared a Quickening?" Joe asked with wide eyes. "How come I've never heard of this before?"

Amanda simply shrugged. "I don't know, at the time I didn't even know what a Watcher was, let alone if I had one."

"But why didn't you tell me? Were there any side-effects? Did the two of you have any kind of special bond after that?"

"No. Well, unless you count the fact that she deigned to learn from a common thief."

"Deigned?" Richie asked, obviously not familiar with the word.

"She means that this Callie lowered herself to accept the lessons," Methos explained.

"Oh right, why couldn't you just say so?"

"Because that's how Callie said it. She isn't exactly the best people person in the world, most people find her taxing as she's far too blunt. Well, that and the fact that she likes to put people in their place, or rather the place she believes they should be." She sobered then, losing her happy demeanor from before. "And now she's been drawn into my problems."

"The problems you wanted MacLeod to help you with?"

"Yes, unless Joe wants to."

"Me?" Joe asked surprised, until he realized what she had to be asking. "Oh no, I can't tell you anything about Immortals. Don't even ask me."

"I just need to know how they died. Please?" Amanda begged with as sweet an expression on her face as she could manage. Which, in Methos' opinion, was pretty sweet.

But Joe shook his head in denial. "No, I don't know who you want to know anything about, but no. And that's final."

"It doesn't matter much anyway, I've got to go to Callie. She isn't capable of handling all this herself."

"Amanda? We still don't know what you're talking about."

She frowned at that. "Are you sure? Because I'd swear... oh well, I probably forgot to actually tell you. It's my students, Callie is the third that's been attacked, and the only one who survived."

"I'm sorry about that," Methos said, although he didn't care that much, "but that sort of thing does happen."

"Not three times in two days it doesn't," Amanda bit back. "Well four in three now."

He blinked in surprise. In fact, he blinked a second time. Because she was right, it wasn't very often that that three students of the same teacher got attacked in such a short time. "Did they live together? Or close to each other?"

"Rome, Buenos Aires, Limerick, and now Callie who lives in Southern California. So I have to say no to that."

"That's weird, and now you're going to this Callie?"

"Yes, at least I can get to California pretty quick from here. Hey, I just got a grand idea. Duncan may not be here, but why don't you two come along to help me deal with this?"

"Ah, Amanda? I'd rather relax for a while, quiet is good, it helps you live longer."

"Oh come on Adam, where's your sense of fun? Did I protest when you wanted to look for the Methusalah stone?"

"No, but I didn't ask you to take care of someone hunting your friends either."

"It won't be so bad, Callie said she had a friend who took care of most of her attackers. So you probably won't have to do much, simply enjoy the sun, the air, and the beautiful company."

"Beautiful?" Richie asked, as always first thinking with his hormones, while Methos' desire to live was warring with the seductive picture Amanda had painted.

"Of course, haven't I shown you what she looks like yet?" She then searched in her purse, until she found her wallet and took a picture out of it. "Here, this picture is a couple of years old. I think she lived in Bangalore when this was taken, she owns some kind of estate there."

"She's beautiful," Richie breathed, almost panting over the picture. Or at least, that's how Methos chose to describe it. "How old was she when she died?"

"Almost seventeen," Amanda whispered seductively, probably realizing that she'd just gained at least one ally in her quest to help her student. And this made Methos' position even more difficult; how could he let the young Immortal go face who-knows-what if he might be able to help? MacLeod would never forgive him for doing that. Which meant he'd have to go without those free beers for at least a couple of years.

"Alright, I'm in too. Now show me that picture so I know what the damsel in distress looks like."

x.x.x

The first thing she noticed upon waking up was the music. The sweet tones of the songs that were the soundtrack of her life. No, not her life, Kirika's life. She was Dawn. Once again she was in control of her own body.

Letting out a deep, but silent, sigh of relief she kept her eyes closed and focused her other senses on the environment. Even if she hadn't recognized the agitated voices of her best friends, she would have known where she was. This strange mix of smells could only exist in Jane's room, she wanted to hear what her friends were talking about, but the CD switched tracks and played the song she couldn't handle. Canta per me.

For the first time since the events in Los Angeles where she, or rather her body, had so brutally murdered those people did she allow her emotions free reign. Hot tears stung in her eyes and it wasn't long before she felt the liquid trail down her cheeks, eventually even tasting their saltiness as the tears reached her mouth.

But she rallied herself, or tried to at least. She wasn't here to cry over some silly bit of music. Oh no, she was here for a completely different reason. And there was no doubt in Dawn's mind that once she'd calmed down she'd remember what it was too.

In an effort to distract herself, Dawn focused once again on the dream she had just awoken from. Which was a big problem all on its own. Before today she'd already had these crazy dreams, but now she'd turned into some kind of serial dreamer. Not something she was particularly happy about.

Alright, she couldn't write the dream down right now but she figured that didn't particularly matter anyway. Chances were that she'd continue the dream that night anyway. And she also knew what it was that had eluded Kirika. This dream came far too close to that Highlander series.

Not that she'd seen much of the series: she'd only watched a number of episodes with her father, but Cordelia was just like MacLeod. Immortal in the 'there can be only one' style. Which was of course a ridiculous concept, what possible use was that? Still, it wouldn't be a bad thing to prepare herself by looking into it. Wasn't there supposed to be a movie as well? Dawn dimly remembered hearing her father mention that, but she'd eventually grown bored with the series and had stopped watching it.

Strange though that in the dreams she didn't know about the series. No, that wasn't strange. Actually, she corrected herself, it was, but there were stranger things about that dream. Like the fact that she had it in the first place. Why would she be dreaming about Immortals?

Memories of her, or rather Kirika's, thoughts the night before came back to her then. She had been thinking about the possibility of immortal demons. Her subconscious had probably translated those thoughts into dreams. Yes, that was it. Nothing strange about it. That kind of thing happened all the time.

Except for the wounds. The wounds she'd received in the dream were closed here, Cordelia's kind treatment hadn't had any influence on that, but they still existed. Huh, Cordelia's kind treatment. Even to her own mind that sounded weird. The rich girl might be someone she liked, when she wasn't stealing Xander, but to call her kind was somewhat of a stretch.

Alright, Cordelia's actions concerning her wounds weren't the most important thing anyway. So she should also stop thinking about the whole shower thing. Now if it had been Xander... That was something Dawn wouldn't mind dreaming about. No! No fantasizing about Xander either. Where was he anyway? Oh yeah, Buffy had said something about going to the library, so that's probably where he was.

With this world's Cordelia. Someone he hadn't cheated on. It was a strange feeling, being angry with Xander for something he hadn't even done. Or at least not yet. Until she actually had a dream that she could verify predicted the real world, there simply was no way to know if she was dreaming of the future. Ugh, she hoped not. Those wizards might have fixed her watch, but they still seemed like a useless bunch of losers.

Now that was a place where she'd like to see Cordelia. She stifled a grin before it showed on her face as she imagined how the girl would tell everybody how bad their dresses were. And why were the guys wearing dresses anyway? No! Immortal Cordelia dream.

Right. Well, at least it was a fairly action-packed dream. Not that that made her feel a lot better as she was far too close to the action. And as if that wasn't bad enough, it had to leave her with scars from the wounds she'd received during it as well. That on its own was enough to ensure she didn't exactly think kindly of it.

Alright, what had happened? It had all started with Buffy asking her to talk to Cordelia, who she said was close to a nervous breakdown. Then she'd come upon Cordelia dying, and about to have her head cut off. Dawn had killed the man who was going to do that, only to see him rise again. And again. Until she finally cut off his head.

Then Cordelia woke up, Dawn no longer trusted her, but she'd gone along to her house anyway. And there they'd been attacked by some group of fairly competent people. Who she ended up killing as well, after which she cleaned up the scene while waiting for Cordelia to wake up. Cordelia who then explained her real name was Callidora although she didn't go as far as to confide her last name to her.

She hadn't had to go home because she'd explained things to her mother, who probably believed they'd spend the night watching cheesy movies and stuff. The reality was slightly different however, something that was proved as soon as Cordelia made her own phone call. The Immortal dialed a number in Canada, but only reached her teacher's assistant, or someone like that.

Which meant she received a whole list of telephone numbers to try, until finally ending up at the right place. A bar of all places. After a short explanation the teacher, Amanda she now recalled, agreed to come help. Which was when the real fun started, getting rid of the stinking corpses.

From what she could remember of the dream, Dawn figured she was sleeping there now, although she still had no idea how that worked. But it was magic, and magic did weird things. She moved away from her thoughts then, and once again focused on the room. Where she was surprised to hear the ending of the song she'd tried to ignore.

While she had hoped the whole thinking deal would have taken longer, she couldn't focus on anything but those sounds. Once again tears started to trail down her face, but aside from that she tried to remain motionless while listening to her friends talk.

"-hy not?"

"Who knows what they'd do to her if they found out who she is?"

That had been Sara, what was going on here? Jane answered her friend then. "I know! But I can't stand seeing her like this. She's dying, and that's not even taking into account the whole scars that suddenly appear thing."

"We can't tell anyone. If what we believe is true..." Oh yeah, now she remembered. The whole thing from before was coming back to her. Or rather, she was starting to access Kirika's memories of the event. At least it had been the assassin, in one identity or another, who'd been in control of her body. And not the freak again.

It was rather weird that they thought she was the Slayer though. She would really need to ask them how they came up with such a crazy notion. "I know. And it's even worse now. At least the Slayer thing was something I could understand, but how this happened..."

They no longer thought she was the Slayer? Concern and a sudden unexplainable fear gripped her heart causing her to look for her watch. The one thing in the world, aside from her mother, that could ground her.

It wasn't there.

Where? She started to think, but then realization came. Sara and Jane had it. They had discovered it when they put her on this bed. That made sense, and would explain why they no longer thought she was a Slayer. Opening her eyes she turned her head to look at her friends, who were staring right back.

"Good morning Dawn. Had a good nap?"

"Watch," she demanded. Not bothering to act nice right now, she needed the comfort it brought her. Even though she might be the one in control of her body again, that didn't mean Dawn was completely comfortable with everything again.

"You mean this watch?" Jane asked, while holding it up.

Dawn didn't bother answering verbally. The two of them knew who she was now. Maybe they weren't completely certain yet, but they were smart enough that they'd be able to find the required evidence in a short period of time. So she might as well confirm it.

Her heart was still beating fast, but she willed it slower until it reached a level at which it was hard to imagine she could do much more than breathe. But she knew how far she could go. The time that others had been in control of her body had been beneficial after all. They had already known how to be in total command of a body, and now that she could access their memories of how they did that...

With her heart taken care off, Dawn focused on the rest of her body. Not that she needed much, but the one thing that she really wanted to show her friends was the thing all three of them had thought so cool while watching the show. The way Kirika could look so completely emotionless. Not the sad and innocent way she usually acted, but the total lack of emotions from those final episodes.

Slowly the emotion drained from her, causing that same effect to happen to her face. Undoubtedly the girls in front of her knew exactly what was happening. They had seen the expression in those early days before she started using the watch, but had never placed the link. Now they suspected though, and when she raised her head to once again look at her friends, Dawn saw both of them take a step back.

"Holy," Jane started.

"Shit," Sara finished in surprise. "You're really..."

"Yeah, you're really her, aren't you? You're Noir now. Not the Slayer like we thought."

"The watch."

This time there was no hesitation, no attempt to tease her. The watch was immediately handed over by Jane, who after handing it over once again backed up against the wall. "You're not-" she started before cutting herself off. "No, if you're Kirika you wouldn't hurt your friends. At least not if you hadn't been hired to do so, right?"

"Yeah, and you haven't been hired," Sara added, although a sliver of doubt was present in her voice. "At least, I don't think you have."

"I haven't," Dawn answered in a calm voice.

"Good, that's good. Don't you think so Jane?"

Jane nodded in agreement, but remained silent.

Dawn meanwhile had stopped paying attention to her friends. The gap between them that Kirika had noticed was still present, but she didn't immediately know what to do about it. She was still trying to sort out herself, adding more people to the mix that she had to concern herself with was simply too much.

Instead she looked at her arm, the scar she'd received during her dream was present. And she still didn't know how or why that happened.

"It suddenly appeared," Jane interrupted her musings, causing Dawn to look up.

"Yeah, it was really weird," Sara added but then fell silent as Dawn focused on her.

Jane however seemed to have gathered her courage again, and tried to explain. "We'd just put you on the bed, and were wondering what to do when it simply appeared out of nowhere."

"No wound?" Dawn asked, still trying to sort out how she should act towards her friends but for now settling on speaking as little as possible.

"No, nothing. One moment your arm was perfectly alright, the next there was this scar. It happened right before our eyes!"

"Interesting," Dawn mused. How could this happen then? Well, it was obviously magic, but that part she'd already figured out. The problem though was how the magic had been directed at her. Her plans to stay with her father weren't something she'd been hiding, and everybody knew where she slept. But how could the magician know that she'd be sleeping here?

And for that matter, why had she been sleeping here? "Ah, Dawn?"

"Yes?" she answered without really paying attention.

"I understand that with being Noir and all we might not be really important to you anymore, but would you mind explaining things to us?"

"Things?"

"You know, things like how you became Noir. Were you chosen? Like Kirika in the series? And how come you're still living with your family? And why haven't you ever told us that you already knew more about the Soldats and stuff than the series showed?"

"What?" Dawn asked confused. They couldn't really believe Soldats existed in this world, could they? Not that she hadn't thought about it herself, but she knew how to look for the signs that showed their presence.

"Okay," Jane nodded. "I was just trying to make sure."

"Make sure what?"

"Well, that you're still you of course. That you weren't actually born as a sapling." Jane once more seemed to gather her courage and moved to sit down. Instead of joining her on the bed however, Jane pulled the chair Dawn had been seated on earlier and used that. "So, what really happened? Was it Halloween?"

Having her friends supporting her would help. She'd come to recognize that was the important thing about the Scoobies. To Buffy it wasn't as much that they helped her in the fights, but that she had their support. But Buffy was a hero, her friends had no trouble supporting her. She on the other hand was far from a hero, she was the one who'd be hunted by the heroes.

Dawn had made the decision that she'd do what needed to be done even before her trip to Los Angeles. The events that had taken place there had only cemented her belief. Despite the horror she'd inflicted on her targets. Briefly she closed her eyes once again in remembrance of that horrible time, before opening them again and looked Jane in the eyes with renewed purpose.

"Are you sure you want to know? This is not a game, things are at stake here that you might not want to sacrifice. There will be no going back."

She was nervous, that was obvious to Dawn, but despite that nervousness Jane was adamant. "I'm sure."

Nodding her head in acceptance, Dawn then looked at her other friend. The only other person to whom she could tell the truth. "And you? Do you really want to know what's going on with me? Because I promise you, both of you, that this is not a happy story. Once you know, you'll know. And I believe you won't betray my trust, but this knowledge won't make you sleep better."

"I'm sure," Sara whispered. She didn't look entirely sure, but Dawn knew that was mostly nerves. To her the fact that they'd agreed was as good as a written promise that they wouldn't betray her. Something she really hoped would still be the same after she'd finished telling them her tale. Because if it wasn't... a choice would have to be made—a choice she really didn't want to be forced to make.

"Alright then. Like you guessed, it all started on Halloween. You remember where we bought the outfits?" Both Sara and Jane indicated they did, and after taking a deep breath Dawn continued. "Right. Now, the man who owned that shop was actually a mage called Ethan Rayne, and he used a spell to turn anyone into the costume they'd bought from him."

….…

Dawn felt relieved. Yes, that was it, relieved.

She had finally talked to someone about what she had gone through, and had done so as honestly as possible. The reactions of Sara and Jane hadn't always been positive, in fact their reaction to the death of Ethan Rayne had made her tone down the events in Los Angeles. But they did say they'd help her in any way they could.

What they would do, and how, was uncertain. A problem for the future. The only thing she was certain of was that they'd have to stay out of the fighting. And not like Xander and Willow staying out of the fighting either. No, Sara and Jane wouldn't get to go on missions with her.

But they understood that already. That was after all the advantage of having the memories of a fictional assassin. Her friends knew exactly what she was capable of, and that there were only two people she could ever work with. Mireille and Chloe.

Taking a deep breath, Dawn stopped thinking about what she'd told her friends. Instead focusing on what they'd told her. Jane had indeed been attacked by a vampire, two even, but she had been saved. Saved by Dawn's personal hero. The boy she loved. Her future husband.

She wanted to face him. Thank him for what he'd done. He was in the high school library, with Buffy, Willow, Giles, and her. Dawn didn't mind the fact that people would be present while she thanked Xander, but she wasn't really ready yet to face Cordelia Chase.

It was strange how in the dreams she was having at the moment Cordelia was such an important figure as well. And in fact one of her best friends. No, climbing the steps leading to the entrance of the school, she admitted that wasn't true. Hadn't she claimed the girl as a friend earlier that day?

Pushing against the door Dawn was only half-surprised it opened. Now, this was strange, walking into a school on a holiday. It still went against all her beliefs, but if that's what she had to do to thank Xander, it was what she would do.

The hallway seemed to echo eerily though, but she pushed that thought out of her mind. This place was safe with Buffy so close. So, Dawn figured she might as well pay more attention to the problem that was Cordelia Chase.

Cordelia wasn't a nice person, she knew that and had accepted it when she'd first really spoken to the girl during Halloween. Cordelia was also very much like Mireille, both members of what could be seen as the elite, and both very outspoken. There were differences as well of course. With the way her father practically ruled Corsica, Mireille's life had always been mired in crime, while Cordelia was focused only on her own status.

Mireille was a cold-hearted killer, who despised messiness. Dawn smiled as she thought of Mireille's peculiar behavior where it came to killing. The young woman had always used a gun when they were together, no matter the circumstances. But then again, Dawn realized with a shock that sobered her, there was no reason to believe that Cordelia couldn't be a killer as well.

In fact if the dreams were in any way real, something Jane and Sara hadn't been able to agree on either, then Cordelia could very well have killed a number of people. And, judging by her behavior as a noblewoman, had probably been responsible for the death of even more. Could the real Cordelia be an Immortal as well? As they existed as a television series here, it was unlikely. Nevertheless, it was an intriguing thought and one Dawn knew she couldn't possibly test.

If she understood the spell correctly, an Immortal Cordelia would be exactly the same as a mortal one. Only dying would bring her out of that state, well that or a Quickening. And while it was possible to test the dying alternative, Dawn doubted anyone would appreciate her doing that. Even if Cordelia came back from the death.

However, all that thinking about an Immortal Cordelia had only served to take her attention away from the thing she needed to think about. Would she be able to handle being this close to the girl? The two of them hadn't really talked since Dawn had seen her kissing Xander. So, the question was, could she do this on her own? Or should she surrender control to Kirika?

No, that was out of the question. She wanted to thank Xander for helping her friend. The same friend who'd told her not all that long before that nothing could possibly come between their friendship. Which meant that she should do this herself. If Jane was willing to overlook brutal murders, then thanking Xander personally for his actions was the least Dawn could do.

Raising her hands until the rested against the heavy wooden doors was the hardest part, and once she'd done that the rest came easily. From experience she knew that there wasn't even any need to actively push against the doors. Simply walking into them with her hands extended was enough. But that would diminish her entrance.

With a smile she pushed hard, causing the double doors to swing open and draw everybody's attention. A quick look around was all she needed to place everyone, telling her she'd worried about nothing. Cordelia wasn't even here.

"Dawn?" Buffy asked surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Dawn didn't answer her sister though, she had found who she was looking for had started walking to him even before Buffy had finished saying her name. Alexander "Xander" LaVelle Harris. Such an apt name, Alexander. Protector of mankind. The same name as one of the greatest tactical geniuses ever born. A man who'd managed to conquer most of the known world.

But in Dawn's, admittedly biased, opinion Alexander the Great was only a shadow of the boy before her. The Macedonian king had done everything with an army, while Xander had been a hero all on his own.

"Dawnie?" the boy asked when she was standing before him. "What is it?"

Always willing to help as well. He was so sweet, and Dawn could feel her grin getting even bigger while she took the last step that separated them and swung her arms around him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He was uncomfortable, she could feel and understand it while she rested her head on his chest. Maybe he wouldn't have been if the two of them had been alone, but a hero should have his public recognition. "Dawn? What are you thanking me for?"

Burrowing her head deeper into his chest, or at least trying to, she simply continued whispering her thanks, while taking advantage of the situation to inhale the scent of him. She wanted to be able to recognize the real Xander smell whenever she encountered it. And as she didn't have any of his shirts yet to sleep in, she would have to learn it like this.

After a long and pleasurable minute though, she finally let go and took a step backwards before facing him. "You saved her."

"What?" Xander asked, obviously not immediately understanding what she meant.

"Jane, you saved Jane while I was in Los Angeles. She only told me today."

Xander's eyes went wide in surprise as he finally understood what she was talking about. "You know her?"

"Of course she knows Jane," Buffy interrupted, "the girl is one of Dawn's best friends. But what is this about saving her?"

"Ah, well you see, ah," Xander started, causing Dawn to interrupt.

"What he's trying to say is that he saved Jane from two vampires. He staked them both, saving her life," she whispered while never taking her eyes of the boy who'd risked his life for her friend.

"You fought vampires? Alone? When was this?" Buffy demanded.

It was strange, Dawn reflected. Without the added knowledge of human nature that came from the Kirikas, she might not have recognized her sister's true intentions here. Buffy wasn't angry that Xander had done this, she was scared that he might have gotten hurt. Scared that she might have failed in her duty to protect him.

She stopped paying attention to Xander's attempts to explain what had happened while she thought about this side of Buffy. Until now she had mostly figured that Buffy's reasons for keeping her friends out of the fight were the same one she had for Sara and Jane. Self-preservation.

But now it once again showed why her sister was a hero, while she was only an assassin. The best perhaps, at least potentially, but still far from being the perfect harbinger of good that Buffy was. Maybe one day she could be that ray of light Kirika had promised herself to be after walking out of the Manor. But while she might not be pure evil right now, she wasn't much better than a dark gray either.

In a daze she ignored everyone and started on her way home. Undoubtedly they'd have questions later on, but right now she couldn't be near them. It was irrational of her to believe they might actually see through her front and see what she really was, but Buffy was a true superhero. Didn't superheroes always find the bad guy? Even when it was someone they cared about? And didn't they always defeat this bad guy?

The streets were no longer as empty as they had been that morning, but Dawn didn't even notice. She wanted to go home and crawl into her bed. Maybe she'd go back to that other world again if she went to sleep. It might not be perfect, but at least she wasn't as bad as in the real world. She was helping someone there. Without any thoughts about her own safety. Like heroes did. Like Buffy did.

During the walk home she'd somehow switched off her brain, because when she stood before the door Dawn had no idea how she'd gotten there. But it didn't matter either. Once again she pushed open a door, and walked inside.

"Dawn?" her mother asked in an eerily similar tone as Buffy had. "Are you alright?"

"Tired," she answered, hoping that would be a good enough excuse to stop her from having to answer irritating questions.

"You look it. But that's to be expected after getting up so early. You should have stayed in bed longer. What's done is done though, and there's nothing we can do about it. Dinner will be ready in about an hour, why don't you go take a nap until then? Sleep a bit, maybe you'll be more awake after dinner."

"'kay," Dawn mumbled, already on her way to the stairs.

"Oh, before I forget it. A man came by to bring you a letter. It's on your desk in case you feel up to reading it. And no," her mother said, "I haven't looked at it. Although I am curious as to why anyone would bring you a letter on New Year's day."

So was Dawn actually, and after thanking her mother she hurried up the stairs. Quickly she walked into her room, noticed the envelope and stopped. A cursory check revealed nothing special about it. Obviously it wasn't a bomb, which she admitted was rather paranoid thinking anyway. Could it be from a boy at school, declaring his love for her as a New Year's resolution? It didn't make a lot of sense to her, but that was the only thing she could think off.

Shrugging, she took the letter opener from her desk and ripped open the bottom of the envelope, exposing the contents. For several seconds she waited while holding her breath. This wasn't a perfectly safe way to open a letter, but holding the opening away from her would send any poisonous contents away from her. And it was the best compromise between being careful and living a normal life.

It was bad enough that she was getting paranoid, she really didn't want to go through life fearing everything. Shaking her head to order her thoughts again, she expelled her breath and dropped the contents of the envelope onto her desk.

Time stopped.

No, it wasn't time that stopped. It was only her, the voices in her head cried.

But she didn't care.

It was minutes before she was able to move. And when she did it was with trembling hands that she took hold of the photos. Photos of Jane and Sara. Photos with targets drawn on them. Targets drawn on her friends.

The accompanying letter was there as well. And she took it, not bothering to read the text, instead only looking for the sender.

The Order of Teraka.

No. Please no. Not Jane and Sara.


Bob-from-Accounting, Allen Pitt, Darklight, and Destiny's Dragon: Thank you for your reviews. Now let's answer some of them, in no particular order.

As you've read by now, no Boyscout in this story.

Why is Dawn more attached to this universe? There are reasons for this, and they will be mentioned later. Things like the Quickening and her increased mental instability (Dawn not being in control) play a part though.

The Wish is pretty strange in itself, and the plans that I've got for it are even worse. Trust me on this. I don't plan on using anything as silly as Cordelia getting up after being drained, but at the moment there is a gap of somewhere between 6 and 10 stories between what has been posted and what I have planned. A time in which a lot can, and WILL change. All of which will have an effect on that story.

Dawn in the Noir universe... Now that is something I've thought about quite often, but always came back to the fact that without making Dawn far better than Kirika and Mireille she would end up dead after the first three pages. I would really love to write a story set there, but, aside from the dead Dawn, it has so many aspects that appear incompatible that I wouldn't know where to start.

Okay, general announcement here. Like with my plans for the Wish, I don't go into any detail of what has happened with people that aren't relevant to this story. I really like seeing people speculate about what might have happened, or could happen, to certain people, but I won't go into them in any detail. This is because in both universes Dawn is the same person (with some differences where it concerns her mental health). One storyline is farther ahead in time than the other and explaining certain events would spoil future stories. That said, I do enjoy seeing speculations as they might give me ideas so don't take this as me saying you can't. Oh, and Angel did turn into Angelus in the Immortal Cordy timeline. The situation was handled the way it should.

Amanda is simply a wonderful character, and the only one of the core Highlander characters who I believe would be capable of handling Cordelia. Methos isn't the type to put up with her, and while he is a patient man MacLeod is not THAT patient. Oh, and a flashback to Cordy's training will come in the next chapter. After all, what's a Highlander story without a flashback?