Machiavelli woke up the next morning feeling so lousy that he forgot all of his good intentions and came down to breakfast in a surly mood instead.

Billy noticed the Italian's mood right away. "What's up?" he asked the boy.

"I'm bored," he whined, setting his head down on the table. "There's nothing to do here."

Perenelle rapped her knuckles on the table next to him. "Come on, there's no need for that. Find something to do. Why don't you go swimming?"

"I went swimming yesterday," the Italian whined. "And before you suggest it, I don't want to read a book or watch TV or…" he trailed off and walked out the back door, grumbling to himself. Perenelle frowned after the Italian, but Billy and Nicholas looked after him with some form of amazement showing on their face.

"It could just be the hormones or it could be the summer coming to the end," Nicholas commented, shutting his mouth at last.

"Yeah, I think that-"But what Billy thought was never expressed because at that moment, the American immortal stood up very suddenly and headed for the door. "Mac! What are you doing? Get down from there at once." he snapped, striding towards the guest house where the Italian was sitting on the roof.

Machiavelli shifted to the edge of the roof as if to climb down, but stopped as a wicked thought crossed his mind. "No, I don't think I will," he shot back down.

"What is he doing?" Scatty asked, exiting the guest house and coming to stand beside the American immortal. This only served to make Machiavelli somehow angrier, which was strange, because the Italian knew deep down that he was acting very irrationally. Still, he only grew angrier when Billy shrugged back.

Billy clenched and unclenched his fists. Wisps of deep red smoke uncurled into the air. "Get off of there at once," he snarled.

Machiavelli got a sick sense of pleasure from the anger he was causing in the American immortal. He leaned forward slightly. "You can't make me do anything," he called down. A few loose singles slipped off and scattered on the ground by the two immortals. Scatty knocked one out of the air with her hand. She stood with her feet firmly planted and her hands on her hips, looking up at the Italian.

"Get down here, Mac," Billy said angrily. His voice was deadly low. "Get down here now, or I'll come up there and get you." He started towards the shed and followed the Italian's footholds up. He got about halfway up before the Italian scrambled down.

Scatty grabbed his shoulder in a vice-like grip. "What's up with you? I've never seen you like this."

Billy dropped down beside them. He gripped Machiavelli's shoulders with both hands and Scatty let go. His clear blue eyes searched the Italian's flint gray ones. "What is up, Mac?" he asked, making a serious effort to bring his temper under control.

Machiavelli struggled to escape his grip but Billy was beginning to make Scatty look like a pushover. The American immortal just dug his nails in to the boy's shoulders and waited. Finally, the Italian stopped struggling and sagged visibly. "I don't know," he huffed finally.

Billy released him from his grip. The boy instantly stepped away from him, taking two whole steps back, until he hit the wall of the guest house. A funny expression came across the American's face briefly, but he made no move to come closer to the Italian. "Listen, Mac," we're all adults here. I know it's hard for you sometimes, going through all this, but I just don't want you to get hurt." He waited.

"I know," Machiavelli begrudgingly answered.

Billy exhaled again and pressed two fingers to his temple. "Please, please, promise me you'll stay close to the ground." He held up his hands in surrender. "If you do, I'll leave you alone."

Machiavelli didn't say anything, just straightened his clothing and marched off.

"Where'd our sweet little boy go?" Scatty asked, squeezing Billy's hand slightly in a rare display of affection.

"I don't know," Billy said helplessly. "But I hope this one goes away sooner than later." He watched as Machiavelli kicked around the edge of the forest. "I really miss Mac being grown up now."

Scatty tugged on Billy's sleeve. "Come on," she urged. "You can keep an eye on him from the cabin. But watching him is only going to make him angrier." She started for the cabin and looked back at the outlaw. Billy hadn't moved. "He'll come around."

"I hope so," Billy whispered. He turned on his heel and followed her back.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Scatty asked Billy as she and Perenelle got ready to go out. "Nicholas is staying here, he can watch the kid."

"I'm the Kid," Billy said absently. He smiled up at her. "Besides, I want to keep an eye on him. I'm afraid he's going to do something stupid."

Scatty looked at where Machiavelli was sulking beneath a tree in the front yard. The Pup was chomping on grass, not far away from the teenager. "I think you need time away from him. He's so moody all the time and you're getting the brunt of it."

"Ah, well, I wasn't a very good teenager myself," Billy said softly, following her outside. He handed Perenelle the keys. "I was very angry all the time, too."

"Yeah, but you had a reason," Scatty said carefully. "I mean, your mother had just…"

"Died, yes," Billy answered her, filling in the awkward silence. "I know it's not the same thing, anyways, but I do love him very much. I can put up with it for a little bit longer."

Scatty popped open the passenger side door. She looked back at Billy thoughtfully and turned back to briefly touch his face. "You're a good guy, Billy. He's lucky to have you."

~MB~

From where he sat, Machiavelli could see the two young immortals talking, but couldn't hear what they were saying. There was an angry buzzing in his ears which only escalated as he watched the two converse in low tones.

"Come on, Pup," he said decisively, getting to his feet. The husky bounded up, happy to engage with his young owner. Machiavelli headed towards the back of the cabin, away from Billy and Scatty, away from the queasy feeling he got in the pit of his stomach when he watched Scatty touch the outlaw's face. He kicked angrily at the leaves beneath his feet.

Billy the Pup gave a high yip and whined at the Italian. "Sorry," Machiavelli mumbled, stopping to pet the dog. He dropped down into a kneeling position after ascertaining that he was out of sight of the cabin. "I just don't understand," he told the dog.

Pup cocked his head and looked at Machiavelli. The dog stuck out a paw and tapped his hand. Absently, Machiavelli shook his paw, then stroked the dog's muzzle. "I'm not supposed to be in love with him. He's a man. And so am I. It's not right!" The teenager stood up again and wheeled around.