Chapter Eleven
The tension hung heavily in the small room as the four men waited for the young woman's arrival. When Duncan, Spike, and Angel had reached the antique shop, Methos had been waiting for his fellow immortals. Recognizing the blonde, he assumed the vampires would have quite a few questions.
He had known the redhead before she had learned of her immortal status, and he knew how much she had changed from the girl they had known. It would be hard for the two vampires to accept those changes, especially not knowing what she had gone through the last few years. And she had gone through a lot. Dealing with her new life and the things she had to do to survive had not been easy on her. She had learned to live with the rules of the Game eventually of course, but at a price.
Methos remembered how difficult that first year away from her hometown had been on the redhead and he also knew discussing that time would be hard as well. She had put her time in Sunnydale, and the people she had known and loved there, in the past. She'd had no other choice. It was the only way she could handle the reality that she would never again live that life or see those people.
Now, of course, it seemed that wasn't quite true. He didn't know how she would deal with that. He was sure her former friends would want some kind of explanation, but he didn't know how much of one she would be willing to give them. So they had waited for her to arrive so that she could make that choice herself. He wasn't about to tell them anything unless he knew it was okay with her.
This announcement had not been welcomed by the two vampires, however, and it was clear by their expressions that they would not wait much longer for answers. Thankfully, he felt the presence of an immortal nearby and heard a motorcycle drive by the front of the shop, then turn into the alley behind it; his friend and protégé had arrived at last.
"She's here." As he said it, Duncan looked over at the older immortal, his expression showing that he too was worried about how she would deal with this turn of events.
"How do you know?" Angel glanced at the shop owner, distrust evident in his tone.
The Scottish immortal decided it would be better to not mention his ability to sense her, and instead pointed towards the back of the shop where his friend was cutting the roaring engine of her Yamaha. "That was her that just rode by. She's out back parking."
The dark-haired vampire looked at him with disbelief. "Willow rides a motorcycle?"
"Willow doesn't do anything; Willow's dead." All four of the small room's occupants turned to the door at the calmly spoken words. "Ash rides a motorcycle." The redhead slipped off her fitted leather jacket, laying it on the table next to the door before setting her helmet on top of the coat. She had felt her mentor's presence when she had rode up and immediately sought out his face, finding him situated next to the antiquities dealer on the other side of the room.
Allowing the slightest of smiles to tug at her lips, she walked over to him, where the two friends exchanged a brief hug. The smile widened ever so slightly when she felt her mentor's sword through his coat; oh how she had hated that sword when he'd first been teaching her to use one of her own. She remembered all the times he'd scheduled meetings with her only to come late or early, so he could sneak up on her and attack.
Those surprise fights had gone a long way in getting her comfortable with the weapon she now trusted her life to. But she still didn't like that sword. "Hey Methos. You're back early." Her usually indifferent tone was light and affectionate as she addressed him. He was the only person she actually let herself become close to. Even Duncan was kept at arm's length. The young immortal hadn't developed any real relationships since leaving Sunnydale. She found it easier that way.
Father and childe looked up at the girl that had spoken, not believing it was the same witch they had both known. She was dressed completely in black leather, from the jacket she had removed, to the heeled boots encasing her feet. The pants clung to her muscled legs, hugging her hips and flaring at the ankles. The sleeveless top had a scooped neck and thin elastic straps.
The long braids fell over her back, hiding it from their sight, but the straps crisscrossed over the alabaster skin, holding on the backless tank. The only color on the outfit was the sharp silver spikes on her dog collar. When his lover had described the girl's makeup, Angel had thought she was exaggerating, but now he knew she was not.
Thick black liner outlined the dark emerald eyes and deep crimson eye shadow was applied to her eye lids. Her lips were painted with the same dark red, as were her nails. As she tucked her plaited tresses behind her ear in a painfully familiar gesture, the vampires noticed almost a dozen small silver hoop earrings running up her ear.
Angel ran his eyes back over her form as his childe sat in stoic silence next to him. The brown eyes stopped at her right bicep where he was surprised to find a tattoo. A blooming rose was situated on her shoulder with its stem wrapped twice around her arm. Small drops of blood seemed to well up under the thorns as if the stem was actually biting into the flesh of her arm. The deep scarlet petals themselves dripped crimson, seeming to bleed on their own. He absently noted that the tattoo artist that had done it was quite talented.
His attention was still focused on the young woman who was in every way a complete contrast to the innocent hacker he had left in Sunnydale. He had had to force down a shudder when she had entered the room and spoken so callously about her own death; her eyes, cold and distant, her face void of emotion. He watched as the ghost of a smile formed on her face as she greeted the man Spike had told him was the one the blonde had seen with her in Sunnydale before she was killed. As he thought of the connection, a question arouse in his mind.
"Methos? I thought your name was Adam. Isn't that what Willow called you that night?" Spike had told him every detail of that night many times over the years, and he was sure his childe had said that the hacker had called out the name Adam. As he looked over at the girl, he watched any trace of the small smile vanish as all expression left her face and her eyes turned cold once more at the mention of her past.
The dark-haired immortal looked at the brunette vampire, squeezing her hand in an effort to offer her some form of comfort. "It's both actually. My name was originally Methos, but now a days I go by Adam. When you've lived as long as I have, it becomes necessary to change your name periodically. It tends to make things a bit easier and keeps me inconspicuous."
"Exactly how old are you?" His tone was somewhat sharp, annoyed at all the evasive answers he had received that evening.
"To be completely honest, I can't quite remember the exact figure, but I'd say I'm roughly 5000." The souled vampire stared at the man, caught between utter disbelief and amazement. "You didn't think vampires were the only immortal beings did you? Well, actually vampires are considerably more mortal than we are. Considering all the ways you can be destroyed."
Confusion and frustration fueled his anger and he had to force down his demonic face. "What are you? Are you a demon?"
"No, we're not at all demonic. None of us are quite sure what we are, specifically. Or how we came to be. All we know is that we are born as normal people, well I'm not sure if you could say that for me, but the rest of us were born normal human beings. If we suffer a violent death, we are from then on, immortal. The only thing that will permanently kill us is decapitation."
Angel shifted his gaze to the silent redhead, briefly meeting her dull, impassive eyes before breaking the contact as a chill made its way up his spine. "So, you're..."
She finished his sentence with indifference. "-stuck here until someone manages to chop my head off."
Her words brought back the fight he had witnessed between her and what he assumed was another immortal in the alleyway. As if reading his thoughts, Duncan nodded his head, saying, "Yes, many immortals try to kill other immortals. It's all part of the Game."
"The what?" The former Scourge of Europe found himself confused once more. The witch's disgusted voice cut into his thoughts.
"The Game. It's like one big fucking pissing contest. The only rules are that fighting is forbidden on holy ground, and fights are one on one. One 'team' is made up of headhunters, out for power and supremacy. The rest of us try and avoid fighting when we can, but we live by the Game, and participation isn't exactly optional. When you're challenged, you fight, it's that damn simple. And you're gonna get challenged. See, when an immortal is killed, their life force, their power, is released in the Quickening. The immortal that killed them, or the one closest to them, absorbs the Quickening. Headhunters basically go around fighting other immortals, trying to get as many Quickenings as they can. There can be only one, ya see, and they all wanna be the last."
"But why?"
Her voice dripped with bitter sarcasm and her features twisted with repulsion. "That's the thing. Nobody even fucking knows what the illustrious Prize actually is. Hell, the last immortal could be turned into a pile of horse shit for all we know. We all just run around cutting each other's heads off, saying 'there can be only one,' for no apparent reason. Oh, there's theories. Some think the last remaining immortal will get all the power and strength of every immortal that has ever existed, which if it ends up to be true and a headhunter is the one, could be pretty damn scary. And then there's the other theory. A lot of us think the last will become mortal again, and be able to have kids, grow old and finally die."
Angel looked strangely at the witch at her last statement. "Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. Immortal's can't have kids. Some fucking asshole decided to take that away in exchange for watching everyone you know die around you." A sickly sweet tone colored the words, matching the sneer that shaped her dark lips.
The girl's manner was quite shocking to the blonde vampire, who had known only the happy, sweet hacker from Sunnydale. Both vampires were having a hard time taking in everything they had been told, although Spike gave little sign of it. He sat next to his sire, still trying to accept that the woman he had loved, had grieved for, was alive. He had been watching her, and it was obvious that her new life had greatly affected her, hardened her. Still coming to terms with everything he had learned, he let Angel ask the questions.
And that's exactly what he was doing, his chocolate brown orbs landing on the now tense witch. "So, tonight-"
Her clipped tone cut him off. "I was challenged. I fought. I won. End of story." Obviously uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation was headed, the young woman stood and walked briskly over to her jacket. "If you don't mind, I'm gonna go outside for a bit." Without waiting for a reply, she picked up the leather coat, opened the door, and went out into the alley, closing the door firmly behind her.
End Chapter Eleven
