Methos glared at Buffy and adjusted his grip on his sword. He had 5,000 years experience in the world most of which had included some kind of weaponry. She had a Slayer's strength, speed and intuition. She was kicking his ass, again. Happily they were both using wooden practice swords and she was sporting several nasty bruises. He would have too if his unnatural physiology hadn't repaired them. Instead it was his temper that was fraying.

"You're telegraphing too much." She sighed.

He leapt forward executing a flawless move he had learned hundreds of years ago, it was beautiful, strong and true and...pointless. She blocked the blow and knocked him off balance he used the awkward balance to his advantage, coming around for a second blow and knocking her on her ass for a change. Methos finished the assault by bringing his wooden blade up to her throat and pressing just hard enough that she could feel it.

She met his gaze and caught her breath. He studied her closely their eyes running along the lines of the other's face until, without preamble, they met again. Methos relaxed the pressure and turned away from her. He ran a hand over his face and turned back to her offering his hand to help her up. Buffy accepted it and he hauled her upright. The two remained silent, moving to opposite corners of the gym, they began stretching and preparing for another match.

"Okay if that isn't sexual tension I'm a freakin' nun." Kim, a young new arrival, muttered. She was watching the security camera in the gym on orders. Buffy didn't want Methos getting up to mischief through curiosity or intent but she also didn't want an obvious guard detail on him. She was trying to be polite.

"Watch it, if Buffy hears that -"

"Oh screw her." Kim muttered cutting off her shift partner.

"You haven't sparred with her yet." Her shift partner, Alyssa, snorted. Alyssa was actually a few months younger than Kim but she had been at the compound for a year already. She'd been one of the first Slayers to arrive after the fall of Sunnydale. Buffy had been her hero, task master, and leader. Kim was new and bitter. A street kid that had woken up one day to find she'd turned into wonder woman and had a pack of crazy faced monsters on her ass. She'd had it tough until Xander had found her but she wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last to rough it.

"Look Kim, take your lumps but lose the attitude, there's no p lace for it here. It'll distract you and get you or one of us killed, so be a good girl and watch the vid." Alyssa growled. Kim had sparred with Alyssa, and lost, badly. Alyssa figured the older girl would be a hell of a Slayer one day, if she pulled her head out of her ass and lost the chip on her shoulder. Kim snorted but turned her attention back to the video feed.

They were fighting again.

As the day wore on Methos lost his emotional investment, his anger and started to really focus during the matches. He hadn't had to concentrate or fight so hard since his battle with Silas. No, that was a lie. He had fought hard yes, but not like this. The last time he had fought like this was when...no he wouldn't think about that either.

Buffy rounded on him and he blocked her blow and countered disarming her neatly. She grinned at him.

"Finally, sheesh. You know for being older than disco it sure takes you awhile to get into the swing of things." She groused leaning on her wooden sword. He grinned back at her, she was right.

"For being a puppy you're quite the trainer." He returned.

The door to the training room opened and a red head popped in.

"Methos Andrew is fanboying again. Something about Silas?" Willow said apologetically. Methos groaned and closed his eyes.

Andrew was an epic pain in the ass. The boy had been watching episodes of the ridiculous television show that Methos was apparently a 'character' in non-stop for days. Occasionally he would attempt to corner Methos and ask him some random pointless question. Such as:

"How did they really hide their swords in a long coat, 'cause it never seemed to work."

"Did missing limbs ever grow back?"

"If a pre-immortal was dying from a hideous disease like Ebola was that a violent death? What if it was like cancer or something slow?"

"Had Methos ever met any kid immortals like Kenny?"

On and on they went. The ancient usually fobbed the boy off or lied. But he kept coming back. Buffy offered to have a talk with Andrew but Methos had demurred hoping the boy's enthusiasm would wane at some point.

It had been two weeks.

"Doesn't he sleep?" Methos muttered picking up a towel and wiping his sweaty face as he walked to the exit. Willow held the door open for him.

' "Where is he?" Methos asked as he passed her.

"Uhm his room I think." Willow said with a shy smile. She exchanged a smirk with Buffy and the two girls hurried after Methos.

It was shallow, and petty, but watching a 5,000 year old immortal man deal with a squeeing fanboy was too damn funny to pass up.

"Andrew?" Methos asked gently pushing the boy's door open.

"Adam!" The kid had insisted on using Methos' 'safe' name. Never mind that there were apparently no immortals in this world, never mind that EVERYONE who knew he was in this place also knew his real name.

"No Andrew it's Methos-"

It occurred to Methos that the 'fake' John must have teleported him to the Intiative and then the Initiative must have dumped him in this universe with the disappearing underground bunker business or else he would not have known John because he wouldn't have met John...

"The Hunters! Shhh they'll come after you!" Andrew squeaked. A scene showing 'Methos' with 'Duncan' in a graveyard was playing on the kid's TV. They were muttering to one another with the body language of two junkyard dogs meeting on neutral turf. Methos was transfixed for a moment. He remembered that conversation in excruciating detail. He felt a strange sense of near vertigo watching a stranger wearing his face perform one of the most painful conversations he'd ever had with anyone.

"Andrew please, calm down. Stop this, okay? I am not a television character I'm real-"

"But-"

"Be quiet Andrew. Remember who I am." Methos snapped letting a bit of the horseman out. He pinched the bridge of his nose and calmed down.

"Now Andrew, think about the Methos you know from the show for a minute okay? Now, ask yourself this, what would he do with someone who knew his secrets, wouldn't leave him alone, and kept doing stupid things that could expose him?" Methos asked patiently. He had tried to reason with the boy, tried to outwait him, tried everything he could think of except a threat. He watched the idiot child's face screw up in concentration, watched him work things out and watched as the moron's face finally blanch in terror.

"Don't hurt me!" Andrew wailed and flung himself at Methos' feet. Methos sighed and picked the boy up by the cuff of his shirt.

"Stop it. Stop following me around, stop watching endless episodes of this ridiculous show, stop pestering me. Get some sleep and get back to work." Methos growled. Andrew nodded like a bobble head with a bad spring. Methos dropped him and stomped out.

In the hallway behind Methos Buffy and Willow were stifling giggles. Andrew followed Methos into the hall a few seconds later. His hair was in disarray from days of endless tv consumption. He didn't see Willow and Buffy until the girls started to howl with laughter. They nearly fell over each other like tween girls at a sleep over. Andrew glared at them in indignation and retreated as gales of fresh laughter filled the hallway.

Methos had a headache. Sure he was fighting fit, accompanied by a supernatural warrior, a vampire and a small army of eager battle maidens, but his head still hurt. Maybe it was the mysterious-all-powerful-quasi-military-dimension-jumping-big-bad-evil thing they were going to attack.

"Gumby!" Buffy hissed. Methos winced. Or maybe it was Buffy's fun new nickname for him, yeah that might be why his head hurt. He belly crawled to her side and looked toward where she was pointing.

For whatever reason the Initiative had set up shop in the base of a bowl shaped valley. Methos said it was stupid tactics, Willow explained something about magic and ley lines and blah. He didn't believe in 'real' magic. Sure he'd seen what Willow could do but he didn't want to know. He trusted her when she said it made sense. Still, tactical fail.

Below a small house sat on top of a tunnel to the main compound which was underground. Yay for underground. He shoved the image of a live burial away, some memories were happily lost. Duos of soldiers patrolled on foot and on dual sport motorbikes.

"Idea?" He asked. Buffy grinned at Willow.

"Never mind, just tell me when to run." He sighed. He drew back to where Buffy's chosen slayers were waiting. Willow had explained to him how the 'scoobies' had empowered all potential slayers with the attributes of the one slayer. Thus wreaking havoc, eventually. First there was the whole destruction of Sunnydale yadda yadda yadda. The amazing amounts of damage and death the group of twenty-somethings had caused or prevented in their short tenure as world savers staggered the immortal. What had happened to angsty beer sessions at the student union?

Buffy gave him the thumbs up and the small band charged down hill toward the house. He had cautioned the girls to be careful in the dark, not get excited and trip. Then Andew had brought out the night vision goggles. Of course the fact that you could 'see' didn't mean much if you didn't take the time to look.

The first girl went down with a muffled squeal. Her partner rushed to her aid. Methos bit back a sigh. The girls were agile, fast, strong, battle hardened but still kids. Excited and eager to put a hurt on bad people. So they rushed, they didn't think, they got hurt and eventually they learned, if they didn't get killed. Happily Methos was relatively free of their shenanigans. He led the group down the hill and up to the house. Most made it just fine. He gave them twenty seconds to reach their positions and then moved to enter the house.

He half expected to find a nice pair of commandos playing house a la resident evil when he entered. The house was empty, surprisingly disappointed he made a quick search of the lower story and found a badly hidden door. Methos assumed there was some magical dohickey in place to hide it but whatever Willow had done had rendered it inert. Or so he thought until he touched the door handle. The door shattered and threw him down the hall and into the main room. He sat up enough to get a look at his chest. The wrist thick hunks of door impaling him were an unwelcome last sight.

" -up!" Buffy shouted. He gasped and coughed as life rushed back to him. He stared up at Buffy's half visible face as she hauled him upright. The girls had disabled or killed the guards giving them free rein of the house. Buffy wasn't paying him any attention as she hauled him up, but was shouting at the girls and Willow.

"Keep them out as long as you can! Board the windows up! Willow you have to get that door open!"

Methos looked at the doorway. There was a door in it. He looked at his chest. It was bloody and judging by the hunks of bloody wood festooning the area around him there had been a door in him too.

"Wha-"

"The door doesn't really exist, it's just a trigger and ammunition." Willow muttered between clenched teeth. She was staring at the door and concentrating.

"Oh." Methos said brilliantly as he got his feet under him. Buffy released his shirt once it was clear he wouldn't' fall over again. The sounds of combat drew his attention to his surroundings. The slayers were at the doors and windows battling something. He smelled death, a wall of it crashing down on him, death and decay. His stomach lurched and he rushed to the nearest window.

A dessicated yet slimy limb half bone and all disgusting lurched through the wall of girls and clawed at him. With a snarl he gripped it, ignoring the way his fingers sank into the fetid flesh, he hauled on the limb tearing it loose from it's mount and flinging it aside. The limb continued to claws spasmodically for a few seconds and then went limp.

"Goddamned zombies." He growled.

"Don't let them break your skin! No bites no scratches!" He shouted.

"Thank you so much for that Captain Obvious." One girl sneered. Methos strode toward her and hauled her away from the window. With a narrow gap available he lunged through the window and out into the horde. The slayers shared stunned expressions for a heartbeat.

"I'm fine! Get the door down!" Methos shouted. He was actually fine as well. He was using his sword to great effect against the lumbering horde. He made it at least a hundred zombies strong. He wasn't trying to take them all down, merely content to keep his flesh intact. He couldn't be infected with the zombie virus, or any other filthy infection the corpses might be carrying, but he did not fancy losing a limb or a chunk of flesh to them either.

He spun and severed a female zombies arms at the elbows. It's guttural complaint was lost in a clap of thunder.

"Bloody perfect." He growled and decapitated a male zombie that was trying to push past the female. Methos kept ducking and dodging. When the horde seemed to lose interest he would let out a bloodcurdling battle cry or charge a thick part of the horde and they would once again lose interest in the house. He tried to keep one eye on the house in case the girls managed to get the door down but it was risky.

More thunder rolled through the valley and the promise of rain finally came true. Fat viscous rain drops, warm and almost gelatinous to the touch fell. Methos' skin crawled as they touched him.

The horde had begun to thin whether through his actions or the failure of whatever curse or spell had vomited them forth he couldn't tell. Happy to be able to move closer to the house and presumably some sort of safety he took the chance. As he approached lightning flashed through the valley revealing unpleasant shapes in the flaccid clouds. He began to run toward the house. He aimed for the window he'd leapt from.

The slayers were still there, watching him or the weather he didn't care. He dove for the window and was grateful when their strong hands dragged him inside.

"That rain is fucked." He gasped catching his breath. His sword, clothing and face were festooned with a the strange thick rain and zombie goop. One of the girls pulled off a sweater and handed it to him. He peeled off his own sweater and used the girl's shirt to clean his face, head, neck and hands. He threw both garments out into the rain and stood with his white but clean undershirt facing the girls.

"Thanks." He said to the girl, Kim he thought her name was.

"Methos that was -"

"Idiotic but necessary, how many slayers were injured by the zombies?" He asked, his inner doctor emerging. Buffy gave him her thin lipped disapproving smile but nodded toward the center of the room. Two slayers were down another was tending them as best she could. Methos ignored Buffy and examined them.

Buffy was right, he'd been an idiot. They probably could have come up with an alternate plan but in his experience human leaders were unable or unwilling to factor his immortality into decisions. He'd grown used to using his initiative to insure he used his ability to the best of the group. Well, when it suited him at least.

One girl was done for. She'd been bitten on the forearm and the wound was already septic and stinking. She had to lose the arm, even a slayer's healing couldn't halt that infection. The other girl had been deeply scratched but seemed to be tolerating it better. He looked past the worst of the two and at Buffy. He could see she knew. He stood and walked the Slayer.

"I'll do it." He offered.

"No, Willow can heal her-"

"She has to get that door open, if she doesn't we're dead. The rain that's falling is unnatural, it started just as the horde started to thin out. I guarantee you something nastier is coming for us if we don't get through that door." He said quietly.

"She's my responsibility."

"So are the others and you only have basic first aid training. I've been to medical school." He counterargued. Never mind that he'd gone in the eleventh, or was it twelfth? Century. He knew enough to make a clean sterile cut and cauterize the wound.

"Buffy!" Willow cried. The immortal and the Slayer turned to her.

"I've almost got it, once it goes it's going to release a lot of energy."

"How much?" Methos asked. Willow spared him a worried glance.

"Will?" Buffy gently prodded.

"Too much." Willow said finally.

"Willow will it be kinetic energy? Can you make it electrical?" Methos asked urgently. Buffy frowned at him.

"Look I can absorb an immense charge-"

"We don't have time to wait for you to revive."

"It won't kill me, if she can make the energy electrical instead of an uncontrolled kinetic blast I can take it, she won't have to use her strength, maybe she can save the girl's arm." He hissed. It was unfair adding that last bit, but it might be true. Besides he could take the charge, within reason. A Quickening was akin to hugging a transform and licking it. Not smart, or safe, or pleasant, but effective. He would live, whether he would be able to think or walk remained to be seen.

Buffy held his eye as she spoke to Willow.

"Will? Can you do it?"

"Yes, what happened to Kennedy?"

"She's with the others." Buffy said tightly. The wounded girl was important to Willow. Methos almost regretted suggesting taking the girl's arm but it was the smart choice, still was. He nodded at Buffy.

"Where should I stand?" He asked Willow.

"Next to me, when I tell you stand in front of me there won't be time to prepare." She warned. Sweat was beading on her upper lip.

He nodded. "I won't need time." He said and opened his Quickening, letting it seep out and welcome foreign energy. As soon as he settled into the strange freedom Willow ordered him to move.

Methos darted in front of her and the world lit up. It wasn't pain not really, it was a cleansing, it seared and fused him. Driving away the inconsequential, burning away pride, shame, and self. It went on forever and the length of a single heartbeat at once. He opened his eyes and the dark returned. He slumped to his knees. He could hear Buffy ordering the slayers to do..something...Willow was saying someone's name...he tried to open his eyes but they were heavy and sticky.

Someone was hauling on him, forcing him upright he managed to open his eyes. Buffy was half dragging him toward the door.

"The girl...her arm..." he muttered drunkenly.

"You said you wouldn't die." Buffy half accused half joked. He was beginning to think they had not brought enough slayers.

"The girl..." He babbled.

"Is fine." A voice interrupted and took the rest of his dead weight. It was the girl who'd been bitten. She looked fine, healthy even. He saw Willow behind her, she looked exhausted, whether it was breaking the 'door' or healing the girl he couldn't say. Hell he couldn't walk.

The group now back to full strength passed through the doorway. The girls who had fallen earlier on the hillside had retreated and evac'd according to the plan. He hoped they had. If not they had likely been zombie bait.

The would-be-heroes hurried into the tunnel. Dragging the semi conscious immortal with them. Somewhere Methos heard the British vampire ranting. He didn't remember seeing him during the zombie attack. Then Methos recalled how the horde had thinned suspiciously. The blond vamp caught up to Buffy. He was whining about zombie goop ruining his jacket.

"Shut up Spike, take him." Buffy said and dumped Methos on the vampire. Neither man was pleased with the situation but both kept their mouths shut. Methos couldn't function yet and Spike was stronger than the younger slayers and almost as tough as Methos so he could take the burden.

Methos sincerely hoped they had encountered the sum total of nasty tricks in the tunnel of love, although he doubted it.

"Hey hold up." He muttered to the vampire. Spike scowled but paused and leaned the immortal against the drab gray wall of the tunnel. The mini slayers filed past wide eyed and pleased to be zombie free for the moment.

"You gonna get your legs back soonish?" The vampire asked speculatively. He was handsome Methos decided. Smart, savage, and there was something between him and Buffy. Lovers? Whatever the case he was dangerous as well. Had taken Methos' beating with nothing more than a laugh.

"Gimme a second." Methos muttered. He was trying to slip into a shallow trance wherein he could hopefully get his Quickening to sort out the foreign magical energy and get him upright and fighting fit..ish.

Spike started to hum, irritatingly. Methos' lips thinned but he ignored the humming, then incorporated it into his trance. Finally he felt his Quickening, it was bucking, wild untamed, frightened. He focused on calming and guiding it. Once he felt it was okay to release it he did and opened his eyes. Spike was staring at him with flared nostrils and an expression suspiciously like hunger.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Methos snapped.

Spike looked guilty for a moment and then scowled.

"S'not my fault. When you pummeled me I got a taste a yeah." He pouted. Methos glared.

"Don't taste me, don't think about tasting me, in fact why don't you go taste yourself. Repeatedly." Methos growled.