Entry 4

Title: A Reflection in Crystal 
Pairing: Angel/Methos

**Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in 
looking together in the same direction.** 

--Antoine de Saint-ExupŽry 

Part 1

====== 

Joe's Bar, Seacouver 

The bar was desolate and deserted as Methos sat waiting 
for the proprietor, Joe Dawson, to impart the news that had 
him so distressed. He fidgeted with his empty bottle, 
twirling it back and forth between long fingers that a pianist 
would have envied. Joe was in his office, apparently 
digging up more details before he disclosed his discovery. 

In lack of anything better to do, the Immortal rose from his 
stool and proceeded to make his way to the room's 
entrance to pester his friend. Upon entering, his intentions 
changed almost immediately. Joe's face showed inner 
anguish and rage. Whatever he had to say was important. 

That usually didn't stop him, but this man also provided his 
beer. *Never argue the man with the beer,* he thought. 

"So, what is it you wanted to tell me, buddy?" There was a 
slight emphasis on the last word, reminding the Watcher of 
the incident with Morgan Walker. 

Joe turned away from the computer screen and the records 
it displayed and readied himself for his revelation and 
request. "In the past month, eight Imortals have just 
vanished in L.A.," he stated gruffly. "Their Watchers either 
lose them or vanish themselves and the bodies have been 
turning up a few days later, missing their heads. No 
lightning storms seen in the vicinity. Basically, it hasn't 
been another Immortal. If it was just one Immortal, sure; 
maybe two, but eight..." 

Hunters, Methos thought. It had to be. But the one thing he 
couldn't figure out was why they were being so sloppy. 
Horton had killed Immortals for years before anyone 
realized what was happening. "Who have they been 
targeting? Any Immortal, or is there a pattern?" 

"I've got the records here if you want to take a look." 

"Handing over chronicles to an Immortal, Joe? What 
happened to that oath of yours?" Methos grinned at him, 
knowing perfectly well that, where the Watcher non-
interference oath was concerned, Joe tended to use his 
own best judgement. 

Using his cane, the double amputee levered himself up 
from his seat. "Well, I know that you can just hack into them 
at your place anyway. This is just a bit faster AND you won't 
get caught." 

"Oh, ye of little faith. I'm ashamed that you think so low of 
me. Of course I won't get caught! I helped design their 
bloody system. It was almost an open invitation when they 
didn't alter it after they found out about my change in 
status." Despite his humourous tone, "Adam" seated 
himself immediately and began reading over the files. 

*** 

Methos stared blurry eyed at the computer screen. The 
eight Immortals had had absolutely nothing in common. 
*Just one more time through, then I'm calling it a night.* 

The first Immortal had been barely out of her teacher's 
care. Less than thirty years old, nothing remarkable. Four 
weeks before, she had been attempting to start up her own 
business, an internet company, when she had been killed. 
Immie number two had also been a woman, but 
considerably older. Methos might be 5000, but these days, 
600 was nothing to sneeze at. Old enough to be careful, 
wary, and able to take care of oneself. Someone like that 
wouldn't be caught unawares. The third had been a man, a 
headhunter. 

*Quite a few heads under his belt. Glad I never met him in a 
dark alley.* 

No first death information, but the Watcher's suspected that 
he was reasonably old, even if he wasn't yet counting his 
birthdays in millennia. The rest were equally unremarkable. 
There was nothing connecting any of them except the place 
of death, Los Angeles, the City of Angels. 

*** 

Le Revenant, Los Angeles 

The club pounded to the beat of the music, almost literally. 
Theo was having a fairly good time. He went back to the bar 
to get another drink, noticing the pretty redhead was giving 
him another look. 

*The drink can wait,* he said to himself. 

He wove his way in between the writhing bodies separating 
him from his goal. Halfway there he was almost sent 
sprawling by another young man, not that Theo was 
actually as young as he seemed. "Watch where your going" 
he exclaimed indignantly. 

Turning back to the redhead, she apparently had lost 
interest and was heading for the exit. Maybe he could reach 
her first. There was nothing wrong with trying. Two men 
came up on either side of him, and he could feel another 
set of eyes beating into the back of his head. 

"Hey, what are you doing?" 

"You're going to come with us outside, or you're going to 
regret it." The voice was cold and sinister. 

"Fine." It wasn't like they could do much to him. He was 
Immortal, after all. There was no sense making a scene, 
especially since he had a bad feeling that if the police were 
called, his false ID wouldn't stand up. Maintaining his calm, 
which wasn't faked at all, he went through the door, 
meeting night air that was neither cold nor fresh. The men 
at his sides grabbed his arms. "No need to get rough. I 
ain't goin' anywhere." 

The hands didn't let go, but instead forced him into a 
nearby alleyway. "Don't move." 

"Fine. So, what do you boys want?" He began rummaging 
through his clothes for his wallet. The next thing he saw 
was stars as his nose broke with a crunch. 

"We said don't move, Immortal." 

*Shit...* There was no way they could know, unless they 
were working for another Immortal. He stared in horror as 
one of them pulled out a gun with a silencer. "Man, you 
can't do this. It's against the rules." He knew his desperate 
pleas would fall on deaf ears. 

"There are no rules." The words were decisive and 
signalled the temporary end of Theo's life. The last sight 
before his eyes gave him a shred of hope, a terrified man 
who glanced at that moment down the alley. 

*** 

Charles Bakely, Lucky Charley to his friends, had just 
witnessed something horrible. His namesake had held: 
the only one who had noticed him was the victim. He saw a 
van drive up from the far end of the street, but its color was 
ambiguous and the license plate was unreadable. The 
three men dragged the body inside and took off. 

Well, he should go to the police, but that would practically 
ensure his own demise. It had to be related to some sort of 
gang. There was no way he was getting involved, not if he 
wanted to stay lucky with all his parts intact. 

*** 

Adam Pierson's Apartment, Seacouver 

After millennia of running, Methos was a master at packing 
light and in short order. It wasn't the most wonderful thing 
in the world to be supposed to have a quickening powerful 
enough that the mere mention of his identity was practically 
like wearing a sign with the words, 'Your ticket to the Prize, 
kill me now.' Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to 
change it. Well, there was one thing, but since it involved 
permanent death, it wasn't an option he had really 
considered. 

*I know it's here somewhere.* 

Already the contents of several drawers had been emptied 
onto the bed. He knew that he'd put it in one of them for 
safekeeping. The room was in a state of total disarray, but 
there was no way he was getting on a plane otherwise. 
Scanners might pick up metal, such as his sword, but 
ivory? There was no way he was going anywhere without at 
least some kind of weapon. 

The knife was highly illegal, at least nowadays, which was 
why he didn't have it stuck out in plain sight. This trouble, 
though, was better than being caught weaponless at the 
airport with some crazy headhunter who had no sense of 
privacy, or better yet, having his luggage end up halfway 
across the world, leaving him without any protection. 

*Damn Macleod for making this necessary. If he hadn't 
gone off to Malaysia again to find himself, he could handle 
this.*  There was no way Methos was leaving it to Joe, and 
he doubted other Watchers would get involved. 

*If someone figures this out, Immortals might be found 
out.*  Letting that happen wouldn't exactly be good for his 
health. Of course, going into the lion's den wasn't either, 
but at least he knew there was a lion. 

"Ahha!" he exclaimed in triumph, dislodging the knife from 
its hiding place. Now he was ready to go. Good thing too; 
with the traffic he needed to get a good head start to make 
his flight. 

*** 

Unknown Location, Los Angeles 

Theo was very surprised to wake up. He had been almost 
ecstatic, at least until feeling returned to his limbs and he 
realized that he was chained to a wall. That was always a 
bad sign. The place where he was being held was dark 
and sounded empty. He strained his eyes in vain to catch 
even a glimmer in the pitch blackness. 

He knew he had two options, remain silent so that his 
revival wouldn't be noticed if there was someone there or 
yell at the top of his lungs so that someone could find him. 
Of course, since he couldn't hear anything, that sort of 
brought up the possibility that there was no one nearby to 
hear him. Theo considered for a few minutes, then began 
screaming with all his might. 

After a while, his voice grew horse and his throat scratchy. 
Nothing stirred within the range of any of his senses and 
his wrists were bloody from struggling with the chains. His 
entire body sagged with defeat, then straightened again as 
sagging put pressure on his still-healing wrists. 

Suddenly, a few clicks could be heard in the deafening 
silence. Someone had heard him after all. A door swung 
open and Theo closed his eyes against the painful light. 

Part 2
====== 

"Look, kid, some other time. I'm busy." Somehow Methos 
didn't think that would cut it, but what else was he going to 
tell the guy. He'd noticed an Immortal following him several 
blocks ago. Young, from the feel of his quickening, and 
none to bright from what Methos gathered about his would 
be opponent. This idiot had a death wish. Why else would 
he be chasing after more experienced Immortals? Methos 
knew that he didn't exactly look deadly and dangerous, but 
face value is not something an Immoral can rely on. 

"It's the rules. You can't back out." 

"I don't ever recall agreeing to fight you. Thus, it follows that 
I'm not backing out of anything." At any other time, Methos 
would have happily relieved this annoyance of his head. It 
wasn't like he appeared to be using it. Unfortunately, even 
so weak a quickening would leave him vulnerable, which 
was one thing he couldn't afford. 

It was very tempting just to walk away. Of course, that would 
expose his back to this child and that would be an 
incredibly stupid thing to do. "Okay, kid..." 

The youth cut him off indignantly. "Quit calling me that!" 

"Fine, what should I call you?" Methos asked in 
exasperation. *I can think of so many names, all suitable 
and terribly insulting.* 

The kid's eyes glazed for a few second while trying to come 
up with a suitable reply. "Death.  Yours?" It was obvious he 
was trying to be scary and sinister and failing miserably. 

"Sorry, that name's already been taken. Would you like to 
pick another? Look, who ever you are, I'm late and have 
things to do. Why don't you go and fight someone else?" 

*Why, oh, why couldn't he have been picked up by the 
Hunters?* he mentally implored the heavens. It just wasn't 
fair. 

"Coward!" 

Enough was enough. He'd just kill the little bugger and 
leave him. If Hunters picked the kid up, well, that was just 
too bad, wasn't it, he thought with a grin. "You know where 
we can find somewhere a little more suitable than this 
alley? I'm sure we'll be noticed." 
There was a sharp answering nod. 

"After you, then," Methos continued, stretching his hand. 

The younger Immortal walked past him, leaving his back 
turned. *This is just too easy,* he thought, pulling out that 
knife he had gone through all that trouble to find. With a 
quick motion and a few gurgling sounds, the other was 
dead. He bent and retrieved the blade. 

*I just know this is going to be one of those days.* 

*** 

Theo was dragged violently from the room. He continued to 
struggle against his captors, but it did no good. Not that it 
would have mattered. He was surrounded by a great 
number of robed figures, both male and female. They were 
chanting unintelligible words, parting to create room for him 
to be forced to the front of the room. The sight that greeted 
him caused him to gag. 

Strangely, there was no smell, neither of blood or decay. A 
body lay on what appeared to be some sort of alter, holding 
a crystal that glowed slightly in its cold and lifeless hands. 

Of course, that wasn't the worst part. In a black robe, as 
apposed to the brown of his fellows, one of mysterious 
figure was holding a sword. At that instant, Theo knew his 
fate for certain. He was going to die here. 

*No way!  These freaks can go to hell.* 

He stilled his struggles momentarily, gathering his strength 
then kicked one of his captors with all his might. Luck was 
with him. The man let out a muffled curse, quite different 
from the semi-hypnotic chanting that had just ended, and 
let go. The other captor was taken by momentary surprise 
and Theo used his suddenly freed arm in a desperate 
attempt to free himself. 

*** 

Brother Roberto of the Order of Lazaro restrained himself 
from beating his head violently against the wall. His fellow 
member of their millennia old circle, Brother Martin, was 
driving him crazy. 

"So, Bob, do you really think that this is going to work? I 
know Francis said it would, but it seems kinda far fetched." 

Roberto ground his teeth. "Stop calling me Bob, and you 
know that we are forbidden to speak that name until his 
return." He imagined Brother Martin's head exploding. It 
was definitely a pleasant sight. Maybe when their leader 
returned, he could give his recommendation to eliminate 
Martin because of his lack of faith. Why did they get stuck 
together guarding the door? 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's not like there's anyone here to 
hear me except you. You don't mind, do you, Bob?" 

"My name is not BOB! It is Roberto, Roberto, yes? Do you 
have trouble comprehending this?" 

Apparently so, since they already had had this discussion 
several times. Martin was saved from a bloody and painful 
death by muffled yelling from within. 

He sighed. "Here we go again. Too bad we can't just drug 
them before the sacrifice." 

The Immortals never seemed to understand that this was 
inevitable, their destiny prophesied nearly a thousand years 
ago by Lazaro himself. To be the tools of He Who Must Not 
Be Named's return was a great honor. They never did 
seem to feel that way, though. 

*** 

Theo didn't make it more than a few feet before the twisted 
and warped version of holy men had blocked the doorway 
and surrounded him. He kicked and scratched and bit like 
a cornered animal, which was exactly what he was, but 
their numbers overwhelmed him and he was dragged 
forward again. 

When forced to his knees in front of the alter, he attempted 
one last act of defiance and spat on the dead man's face. A 
gasp ran through all those present and Theo smiled, at 
least until a foot to the side of his face lost him several 
teeth. 

"None may desecrate the body of He Who Will Return, not 
even you." This was from the voice behind the shadowed 
hood of the 'Black Robe' and Theo shivered as the sword 
was brought up beside his neck, caressing it gently. "Rest 
assured, Immortal, your spirit will not be lost, but become 
part of the greater whole. That is better than you deserve." 

Theo closed his eyes and pictured his teacher. He would 
be joining her soon, he hoped. She had lost her head a few 
years back and he had never been able to find who was 
responsible. Dear, wonderful, beautiful Susan who he had 
loved, but never had the courage to tell. He was the student, 
she the teacher. It had not been meant to be. One of his 
greatest regrets. 

For just an instant, he heard the swish of a blade in 
midflight. Then, in fire and light, stood Susan, radiant as a 
goddess, her red hair aglow, holding her hand out for him. 
"Come on Theo, we have a long journey ahead of us." 

He stretched forth his hand to hers, filled with peace, but 
with a sudden wretch, was pulled away. *Noooooo....* 

Then the light was gone and there was only darkness. 

***

 "Well, that was certainly fun," Cordelia said sarcastically to 
Dennis, who shut the door behind her. She refrained from 
flopping down onto the couch in her slime covered state. 
"Remind me later, next time we go to fight a Kenins demon 
to wear a raincoat or something. This is disgusting." 

She used her right hand to pick off a glob of blue-green goo 
from her face with an expression of extreme distaste. "Not 
only are they slimey, they smell too. I am definitely having a 
shower." 

She had to admit that Angel's help certainly made things 
easier. You never do appreciate something until you don't 
have it any more; she'd found that out. They'd done okay on 
their own, but it was certainly a lot easier to deal with the 
instruction of various visions when you had a vampire 
helping you. Co-workers were a lot less likely to end up 
seriously injured or dead. 

With Darla and Drusilla out of town and Wolfram and Hart 
apparently quiet, Angel'd almost settled down to his old self 
again. Well, not really his old self, but something that was a 
plausible facsimile. Certainly better than obsessive 
bordering on psychotic. 

She bet it was guilt for leaving them to deal with the visions 
on their own. He'd become a workaholic and, though she 
didn't mention it to anyone, it gave her a great deal of 
satisfaction to see him get his dues for firing her, even 
temporarily. She avoided rubbing it in while in his 
presence, or at least tried to be subtle about it. No sense 
driving off her source of income. 

After cleaning up, she headed straight to bed. *I'm not 
going to move anymore for the next thousand years or so.* 
It was almost too much effort to pull the covers over herself, 
but she cuddled into them with a sigh. *Nope, I'm going to 
sleep until Doomsday, maybe a bit after.* Her eyes closed 
quickly, and she began to peacefully drift off. 

**Pain, fire, sword, lightning, monks** She grasped at her 
head as the vision took her, moaning in anguish. This just 
wasn't her day. 

Part 3
====== 

A few days later... 

All of Methos' sources were dried up. He wondered if 
pasting the words 'Immortal' on his back would bring the 
Hunters into the open by giving them a clear target.

Another body had been discovered, Theo McFarlane, 
American by birth and fairly young. His Watcher had yet to 
be found, if he was going to be found at all. Matthew 
Benson, they'd disliked each other on sight even though 
'Adam' hadn't known him very well. 
Theo had usually stayed in the New World, his shadow 
tagging behind, so Matthew had rarely been seen in Paris. 
'Adam' liked it that way, but Methos had never wished death 
on him. He tried to avoid that nowadays. 

*If I was a Hunter, where would I go?* he asked himself. He 
was slightly surprised that 'Adam Pierson' had yet to be a 
target. After all, he had used to be a Watcher. It wasn't like 
the organization didn't know where he was, he sent in 
reports on himself regularly. With the shortage of 
members, there hadn't been one to spare for such a 
unimportant and inactive Immortal such as himself. 

If they only knew, he thought. Of course, his reports usually 
weren't exactly factual, but the organization didn't need to 
know that. It was hard to write valid reports when you were 
hiding your true identity. Too bad he couldn't collect for the 
Methos betting pool now that he wasn't a Watcher. He 
could have made a real killing. 

Well, this wandering around was getting him no where fast. 
Maybe he should just go back to his hotel and get a good 
night's sleep and think about it in the morning. The more 
he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. 

If I don't sleep, I won't be in very good shape to take on 
anybody anyway, he rationalized as he headed back to 
where his rental car was parked. As he walked, though, the 
hairs on the back of his neck started to rise. 

*Something is not right here.* 

He was being followed by someone with nasty intentions. 
*Maybe I've found these Hunters after all.* 

He continued at his pace, attempting to keep an outer 
appearance of calm ignorance. There was no need letting 
the cat know that the mouse had him belled. Moving with 
the same steady stride that his friends had come to know 
well, he avoided glancing around suspiciously. After a few 
minutes, he realized that his facade must have worked, for 
the feeling remained constant, neither fading or revealing 
his enemy. 

Methos was actually surprised, however, to make it to his 
rental without incident. Just as he was putting the key to the 
lock, he risked a glance around. There was nothing 
suspicious in sight. 

*Maybe I've just become paranoid in my old age,* he 
thought, but decided that caution was the way to go. *I don't 
think I'll go back to the hotel just yet. A nice busy restaurant 
for a bite to eat will be just as well.* 

There was no sense in tempting fate. 

*** 

Angel was frustrated. It had been three days since Cordelia 
had her last vision and they were no closer to finding 
anything. They had realized that these monks had 
something to do with the decapitated bodies that had been 
found recently, but there was nothing connecting any of the 
victims. As to why they were killed, it was anyone's guess. 

He had one more source of information he wanted to tap 
before he stormed the gates of Wolfram and Hart to see if 
they had any information. He made his way through the 
sewer system to the demon's lair. Merl was always good at 
getting this kind of information. It wasn't like he wouldn't be 
able to get it out of him. 

Angel cursed himself for not thinking of that earlier, but he 
and Wesley had tried to dig through ancient tomes 
searching for rituals similar to the one Cordelia had 
described. It had been a complete waste. The only 
references that combined beheadings and lightning were a 
strange race of Immortals that ritually slaughtered each 
other in single combat. That definitely hadn't described the 
situation. 

He'd reached the door and knocked politely;  it would set 
Merl off guard. The door opened warily. "Hello?" 

"Merl," he said with exaggerated cheer, smiling. This 
obviously worried the demon. 

"Yes?" 

"Can I come in?" 

"Sure." It wasn't like Merl could keep him out if wanted to 
come in anyway. 

"Merl, what do you know about monks?" 

The question clearly confused him. "Monks, religious types. 
Never got on with them well." 

"What about monks that cut off people's heads?" 

"Look, man, just spit it out. I'll tell you. I don't particularly 
want a repeat of last week anyway, either. You don't need to 
be all cryptic." 

"You've heard about the recent beheadings?" 

"Yeah, who hasn't. I don't live under a rock, you know, well 
not exactly and I wasn't being literal..." 

Angel cut him off before he rambled on for the next five 
minutes. "Fine, the group responsible wears ritualistic 
attire that resembles a monk's outfit and beheads the 
victim using a sword. There is also some sort of crystal 
involved. Heard anything about this lately?" 

Merl held up his blue hands in the universal gesture of 
surrender. "Look, Angel, man, I don't know a thing about 
that. But I could see what I can find out," he continued as 
Angel took a menacing step towards him. There was no 
point in trying to avoid it. Angel would just force him in the 
end anyway. 

"You do that, because I'll be back." 

*** 

Methos finally made his way back to his hotel. His sixth 
sense had assured him that there was no one following 
him and since that sense had kept him alive this long, he 
decided to listen to it. 

*Now to get some shut-eye.* 

He walked tiredly to his room and fumbled with the key. He 
bumped into the door as he searched through his pockets. 
It opened. Now his sense was screaming at him to get the 
hell out of there and he realized that he had seen no one 
since entering the place. 

He literally ran down the hall, not glancing behind him to 
notice several figures exit his room. Theo would have 
known who they were, even dressed as normal citizens. 
Though he didn't see those behind him, he certainly saw 
the group that stepped out in front of him, baring his exit. 
The thought that they might be innocent bystanders never 
crossed his mind. He slowed slightly, and looked around 
for an alternate exit. 

*Why did 'Adam' have to be so poor? If this were a decent 
place, they wouldn't have been able to do this. Of course, if 
this had been a decent place he wouldn't be able to do this 
either.* 

Methos would have pulled out his gun, but that would attract 
too much attention. This was his only lead and he wanted 
to make it out of here with one of these bastards so he 
could 'question' them. 

*Well, it's not like they don't know I'm already Immortal.* 

He pulled out his sword. If someone showed up and he got 
caught, he could just start over somewhere else. If he had 
anything to say about it, the Hunter's wouldn't have that 
option. 

***

 "As Lazaro warned us, this one is formidable," one of the 
Order intoned with a deep seriousness. This Immortal had 
to be old, and it had only been luck that there was still 
anyone at the hotel. The group had almost decided that 
they had the wrong place, which would have been a great 
waste of the effort it had taken to 'convince' everyone to 
leave the premises. Even now, realizing that escape was 
impossible, he was ready to stand and fight. 

Fortunately, they had been advised by the prophecies. Their 
founder had specified this one last for a reason. With the 
crystal containing the power of the nine Immortals taken 
within the last days of the old order, they could subdue him. 
It was obvious that their prey did not know this. 

*** 

Though he knew that he had to stay upright, stay in control, 
Methos dropped his sword and clutched his head in pain, 
curling into a fetal position as he dropped to the floor 
beside his misplaced weapon. 

He had stood for several minutes, but no one had 
approached him. He couldn't go after one group of Hunters 
without exposing his back to the other. That had stopped 
when one of the men to his right had pulled out what 
appeared to be a not quite perfectly shaped sphere from a 
bag and spoke words to low for him to hear. 

Now it felt like a few hundred presences were bearing 
down on him all at once, filling his head with sharp, 
diamond-like pain. Magic, it had to be, but in his condition 
he couldn't bring up the concentration to fight back. 
Struggling all the way, he was slowly dragged into 
unconsciousness. 

***

 Cordelia rocked backwards as she was struck by another 
vision and would have fallen without the support of Wesley 
and Gunn on either side. They settled her down on the 
couch and handed her some pain medication, for which 
she was very grateful. Angel went up to her. 

"What did you see?" He looked ragged around the edges. 
This last vision had been wearing him down and she knew 
that this next one was not going to help matters any. 

"There was this guy, maybe twenty-five, thirty years old. 
They jumped him at some hotel and its just like the last 
one, except this time its worse." She drew in a deep breath. 

"When they cut off his head, it looked like a internal 
hurricane or something until it was drawn into the crystal, 
but it didn't stop. The storm kept going and then the guy on 
the alter got up. You know, the dead one, and all the guys 
were like kneeling down. I also get the impression that if 
you meet this guy after this, well, I wouldn't want to be you 
and whatever it is is going to happen soon. Now I think I'm 
going to lay down." 

*** 

"Lindsey, Lilah, you've made a few mistakes since 
becoming the heads of Special Projects, but you now have 
a chance to redeem yourselves. A man that the senior 
partners are quite interested in has come to L. A. The 
senior partners would like to know why. They would also 
like you to find a way to get him on our side." 

Lindsey and Lilah looked at each other. They couldn't afford 
to screw this one up too. *As long as Angel doesn't get 
involved, we'll be fine.* Unfortunately, ever since the 
vampire had come to town he'd managed to involve himself 
in almost everything. Lindsey doubted that this would be 
the exception that proved the rule. 

*Though it would be nice.*

 Failure this time might have Special Projects with new 
heads. "So, who is he?" 

"Adam Pierson. There is reason to believe that he has an 
important part to play in the apocalypse. Give your 
recommendations to us before proceeding. We can't afford 
for you to botch this one as well."

 Part 4 
====== 

"Look, Angel, I told you last time that I don't know." Merl was 
obviously uncomfortable about being suspended by his 
wrists, feet barely touching the floor. Angel merely 
responded by levering the ropes up higher, lifting the 
demon's feet off of the floor. 

"Okay, look. I really don't know. Nothing, nada, zip. Look 
somewhere else, hey, wait, don't leave me like this, you 
know what sort of things are down here, Angel, come 
back..." 

*** 

Why the end of the world had to happen every week was 
something Angel had never understood. There should be 
more time between incidently like this. Usually, there was 
at least more to go on, after all, word got around when there 
was someone new in town, but no one had seemed to 
have heard anything. He gave an unoffending wall and 
angry kick, something he would never had done if he 
wasn't alone. No reason to let them lose hope. 

There was only one place left to go. Angel sighed, he hated 
karioke. 

*** 

"I'm sorry, Angel, but I can't help you. Nice song though. 
You should sing more often." 

Angel ground his teeth in frustration. The Host wasn't any 
help either. 

"If I hear anything I'll let you know, don't look so down. 
You're a champion, you'll find a way. The Powers will help 
you if they are really that interested in this. Maybe the next 
vision will be more specific. They just got you back." 

The green demon backed off when Angel glared at him and 
stopped trying to cheer him up. "Oh, look, another 
customer. I'll just be on my way then." 

*** 

Martin was happy. The day he had been waiting for had 
arrived. Of course, now he just had to abide the remaining 
hours until the appointed time of the final sacrifice. After 
pacing around his apartment most of the afternoon, he 
decided to spend the rest of his time under the old order 
doing something he loved. He might not get a chance 
again. 

There was a place that he'd been hearing about that he 
wanted to try before their returning leader appeared. He 
decided to give Bob a chance to come with him, but his 
invitation was refused. Martin wasn't sure why, after all, who 
didn't like karioke? 

*** 

"Once more you open the door..." 

It wasn't pleasant listening to a man attempting to sing a 
song written by a woman with a much higher and larger 
vocal range. Angel considered leaving and it seemed like 
the proprietor was thinking the same thing. His eyes had 
taken on a faint pained and glazed expression similar to 
what the vampire expected on his own face. 

Sure, Titanic had been a good movie, but this was perhaps 
closer to the torture his demon half had inflicted on so 
many people rather than music. 

"Angel?" The Host's voice was weak. 

"Yeah?" 

"I think I've found your guy." 

"What?!? Him!" There was no way that this man could be 
the evil mastermind that had escaped him for so long. 
Then again, could there be a better cover? 

"If you say so," he said doubtfully. "I guess when he 
finishes we can go outside for a little chat." 

*** 

He couldn't believe it. The night of the resurrection, he was 
going to die in a mugging. Martin decided that if he 
escaped his he was going to find out where that guy 
Murphy was buried and raise him from the dead just to kill 
him again, painfully. That guy in the trench coat had been 
following him, he just knew it. 

*I am a member of the Order of Lazaro. I can't just end like 
this.* 

Martin certainly hoped not. It would be a shame to waste all 
the time he had spent in meetings and preparation. 
Turning around, he noticed that his constant shadow had 
vanished. 

Heaving a sigh of relief, he began to walk home. There was 
still a few hours before the ceremony and he had to get 
ready. He turned back to the direction of his destination, but 
there was something blocking his view, the man from the 
bar. He backpedalled as fast as he could, but not quickly 
enough. The man caught him within a few steps and 
caught him with amazingly stong hands. 

"Going somewhere?" asked his captor. 

*** 

It had to be perfect. Without the correct placement of 
everything and the correct instant of the sacrifice, all of there 
plans would come to nothing. The final sacrifice had been 
caught just as the prophecies had been stated. This one 
was old and powerful. The last sacrifice was the most 
important, determining the power of He Who Will Return. 

The members of the Order of Lazaro busied themselves. 
There was much to do before the time of the reawakening. 

*** 

Angel entered the office at a run. "I've found them." For a 
moment his three employees were confused, but then 
caught onto his meaning. Wesley grabbed the bag of 
weapons that had been thrown haphazardly by the door. 

The vampire continued, "We have two hours to stop it. 
Apparently, the victims have been specifically chosen 
according to prophecy and the ceremony must take place at 
exactly the right time from the first sacrifice to be effective." 

All four of them hurried to what was affectionatly known as 
the Angelmobile. "So, we just have to mess up their plans a 
little." 

*** 

Methos woke to darkness. This wasn't the first time 
something like this had happened to him. Well, maybe the 
first time he'd been magically indisposed and taken from 
his hotel, but not the first time that he had been abducted. 

His senses told him that he was alone.  He was willing to 
bet a considerable amount of money that there was no one 
around besides his kidnappers to hear him if he yelled. 
There had been other captives in this very room, probably 
chained to the very same wall. The smell of blood and urine 
clung to the walls with an iron grip that would take a long 
time to dissipate. This fact was not comforting. That meant 
that no one knew about this place, otherwise this group 
would have been stopped already. 

He relaxed himself, there was no point in wasting energy 
that he might be able to use later for escape. He had found 
those Hunters alright, but this hadn't been exactly what he 
had had in mind back in Seacouver. 

There was a click as the door opened and light burned into 
his retinas. Through watering eyes, he made out a man 
shaped shadow entering the confines of what could only be 
termed 'the cell'. 

A harsh voice, one that sounded like it hadn't been used 
recently or often echoed. "You're awake." 

Methos restrained himself from making a hysterical joke 
about stating the obvious. There was no point in 
aggravating the people who could end his life with one 
sword stroke. 

Two more dark figures against the harsh electric light 
entered the doorway. The voice spoke again. "Take him to 
the preparation chamber." There was also the implied 
threat if they failed to do so. The old man only hoped that he 
could make sure that these two would be punished for 
negligence. 

*** 

Martin limped as fast as he could to the ceremony. He had 
to warn his fellows about the impending disaster. They 
would have to place more guards. There was no way the 
ceremony could be disturbed. 

*** 

Methos ran, as quickly as someone in his position was 
able, which wasn't very fast. He'd managed to struggle free 
from his guards, five thousand years of fighting experience 
giving him some advantage. Of course, now he didn't know 
how to get out. 

He paused behind a corner out of sight to catch his breath, 
wishing he could free his hands, but that didn't seem to be 
possible. Hearing someone approach, he tensed and 
adrenalin ran through him, setting his heart beat pounding. 
He had a very bad feeling that they knew he was here. 

Again, his feeling was right. He wasn't sure how, but, then 
again, if they were using magic anything was possible. 
There were at least ten of them coming from both sides. 
For them, this was home territory and it was obvious that 
they knew every nook and cranny.

 Abruptly, there came sounds from above. Yelling and the 
clash of metal. People were fighting above his head and 
many of those surrounding him looked up. Just what he 
had been waiting for. 

He broke the first man's nose with the palm of his hand, 
driving the bones upward and into his brain. This snapped 
the others out of their reverie. In the scuffle, it was difficult to 
tell how much damage he was inflicting, but there seemed 
to be less of them. 

Still, he was suffering also. Years of experience allowed 
him to ignore pain as bones knit and joints snapped back 
into place, but it was taking its tole on his energy. He was 
already running on pure adrenaline and knew that he had 
to crash soon. 

Down the hall, someone was running towards the fight and 
attacked one of the Hunters from behind. Methos felt a 
surge of hope, which ended quickly with a pain in his chest. 
One of them had had a knife. 

Coughing blood, he fell to the ground. *I hate dying.* 

Trapped in the strange lethargy that comes with death, he 
noted on the edge of his consciousness that people were 
falling around him. He continued to breathe, despite the 
pain and wished that he would just die already. 

"You're going to be okay. We'll get you to a hospital." 

He wanted to tell that voice not to bother, he'd be dead by 
then anyway, but he couldn't, the only sounds that came out 
were pathetic gurgles. 

"Don't talk."

Someone was cradling him in their arms. His vision 
blurred as he looked up into a beautiful, concerned face. 
With a weak smile, he died in the arms of his own, 
personal angel. 

Part 5 
====== 

The three looked down at Angel supporting the limp body of 
the man from Cordelia's vision, knife if his chest. *Just a bit 
too late,* Wesley thought. *If only we had found the place 
sooner.* 

He then mentally corrected himself. Angel had been the 
one to come up with any real information, so using 'we' 
wasn't really accurate. He knew Angel was going to blame 
himself, but it wasn't his bloody fault! 

Wesley knew that he was more to blame. He was 
supposedly an expert, but all he could come up with were 
strange references to another sect of the Watchers and 
Immortals that somehow went around killing each other. 
How ridiculous was that? 

Apparently quite, because if it was true, the man in Angel's 
arms would be alive right now. Now he wished all the 
delusions of the author or a supposed Watcher Chronicle 
had been true. It just wasn't fair. 

"Angel?" he asked in concern. The vampire didn't look up at 
him. "We should go. They can't perform the ceremony now, 
but who knows what reinforcements they might bring." 

He tried to make the words as gentle as possible, but all 
he received in return was a glare from Cordelia. Gunn, 
however, backed him up. "Wes is right. We gotta split. This 
time we caught them off guard." 

Angel levered himself off the floor and then picked the body 
up, daring any of them to protest. He pulled the knife out 
and flung it to the floor with a distinctive clink that echoed 
his anger. Wesley couldn't blame him for not wanting to 
leave the man in this place. 

The group walked towards the exit in silence, Angel in 
behind with his burden. 

*** 

What he was going to do with the body when they reached 
his car was not something that Angel had thought to 
wonder about. He set him down as gently as possible. The 
vampire wondered what his name was and who he was, 
who his friends and family were. 

It was his fault. If he had driven a bit faster, if he had fought 
better, if, if , if... If he had, this man would still be alive, his 
heart still beating vitality though his veins. This man who 
looked so like someone he had met a very long time and a 
curse ago. Someone like that you never forget. 

***Flashback*** 

Two centuries ago... 

The inn was almost empty except for one loud group of 
braggarts in one corner, murders and robberies on the 
road having driven away most travellers, but Angelus 
considered the banquet that had been practically laid out 
before him. That was a face you would never forget. 

Slightly curled hair had been pulled back from the man's 
face; whatever labours he had been about during the day 
giving it a somewhat ruffled appearance. High cheekbones 
and a patrician nose added character and a certain 
sculptured beauty, but it was the eyes that drew his 
attention. Those eyes shifted between gold and green 
depending on the light, not the golden glow a vampire, but 
a living fire sparkling with intelligence. 

For an instant, they turned towards him. The man gave a 
faintly mocking and ironic smile and nodded pleasantly in 
his direction. 

Angelus realized he'd found his company for the night and 
hoped that it would be for more than dinner. 

***End Flashback*** 

Angel stared off into the darkness that was his city, but was 
brought back by a deep gasp and the sudden frantic 
beating of a heart that had been silent a minute before. The 
formerly dead man was pushed himself off the ground with 
his hands. They all stared at him. 

"Um, hi?" 

*** 

"Um, hi?" Methos wondered if he'd ever come up with a 
worse line, especially towards the people who had just 
saved him from getting ritualistically slaughtered. He did 
however have an excuse, having recently died and all. They 
were all staring at him, almost as if waiting for him to grow 
an extra head or something, though at this point he realized 
that this probably wouldn't surprise them. 

"Aha! I was right!" 

The stares moved away from Methos towards the British 
man with glasses.

 "About what?" This came from several people at once at 
almost identical moments. 

The man straightened himself. "In my readings, I kept 
coming across references to a mysterious race of 
Immortals. It seems we have found one." He nodded in 
Methos direction as he stood unsteadily to his feet. 

"Yes, you have. Nice to meet you all. I do have one 
question. Did you kill all of them?" 

They looked at each other. "Well, no..." 

"Then there are some still in there. I suggest leaving now 
before they decide to come out here and retrieve their 
sacrifice, that being me. I'm sure you can talk about your 
amazing discovery far, far from here and, while under most 
circumstances, running off with a vampire wouldn't be high 
on my list of priorities, this is not one of those times." 

*** 

The car sped past him, almost flattening brother Martin to 
the pavement. He made his way as quickly as possible to 
the entrance and realized immediately that something was 
wrong. 

Stepping inside, he merely found his fellows bodies lying 
on the ground either unconscious or dead. This was his 
fault. What would the returned one do to him if the 
ceremony was completed? What would his brothers do if 
they didn't? There was still a few hours remaining.

 He hurried down to the ceremony chamber and was 
relieved to find it undisturbed, well, except by the members 
of the order who were still in there preparing to defend their 
leader. 

"Ahhh!" he yelled and he fell with a thunk, several of his 
brethren on top of him. 

"It's Martin." There were a few apologies and he was aided 
to his feet. 

"What happened?" he asked. "There was a group of them. 
We were protecting He Who Will Return, so we don't know 
much more." 

"Well, they're gone now, but I have the bad feeling they took 
the sacrifice with them." 

Everyone looked at each other. Martin had a bad feeling that 
the people who almost ran him over were somehow 
related to the man who had forced information out of him 
earlier. 

*Maybe this wouldn't be the best time to tell anyone this.* 

Just then, Bob entered and demanded an explanation. 
Once it was given, he ground his teeth. "We have an hour 
and a half to either find the sacrifice or a replacement. Get 
the crystal." 

People scrambled to obey, as the leaders appeared to had 
not yet arrived. Bob's steely gaze turned on him. "Why are 
you here? You weren't supposed to come for another half 
hour." 

It was obvious he was suspicious. "Were you here 
when...?" 

"No," Martin said warily. 

"So, then I'm wondering about your condition. You didn't 
have that limp earlier this morning, and those bruises look 
nasty." 

"Yeah, well, I had a little accident." 

"I'm sure you did. Once I realized the bar you were talking 
about I came right away, but you were already gone. You do 
know that it's a demon bar and the host is psychic right? 
And how this might have something to do with our present 
predicament?" 

This whole conversation was leading up to something. 
This was definitely not good. 

*** 

Mike was pissed off. He was tired of being considered a 
'kid'. Oh, he knew he wasn't old by Immortal standards, but 
why did everyone have to assume he was an inexperienced 
idiot not worth bothering about? 

He'd knew that he'd show them all someday when he 
ended up with the Prize. That last one had really bugged 
him, attacking him from behind like that and then not even 
taking his head, like he wasn't worth it or something. He 
knew he'd find him eventually and then we'd see who was 
better. Just because he'd had no luck until now meant zilch. 

He broke himself out of his reverie and looked around. 
Nothing to see except a few guys taking a walk. No 
Immortals at all. Actually, there were more than a few guys. 
In fact, he was surrounded by them, and they appeared to 
be closing in. 

*Oh, shit.* 

"That one." One of them was pointing right at him. 

Maybe now would be a good time to split. 

*** 

The trip in the car was one of silence. Angel had stared 
straight ahead towards the road, though from his 
occasional glaces in the mirror saw that Gunn, Cordelia 
and Wesley had kept trying to look at their other passenger 
covertly. The Immortal had ignored them. 

Now, finally, they were back at the hotel. The group exited 
the cramped car and entered the building. With a flick, he 
turned on the lights and everyone turned their gaze to the 
Immortal expectantly. 

He was glancing around nervously and apparently at a loss 
where to start and looked nothing so much as a guilty child. 
Then he evidently came to a decision. "Well, I want to thank 
you. You saved my life back there." 

His eyes pierced right through Angel before turning to 
everyone. "And I suppose I owe you an explanation if you 
have any questions." 

"So, what's with this Immortal gig? You were dead." Gunn 
looked at him expectantly. 

"Immortal is kind of a misnomer. I can die, I just don't stay 
that way." 

"Except if your head is cut off." 

The Immortal glared at Wesley. 

"Oops. I take it you don't like information like that to get out." 

Angel couldn't blame him. Decapitation wasn't exactly a 
common cause of death these days and if no one knew 
that you had to that specifically, well, Immortal wouldn't be 
that much of a misnomer after all. 

Cordelia spoke up. "What I want to know is how you knew 
Angel was a vampire." 

It was Angel who answer her question. "We've met," he 
said shortly. 

*** 

Their chants rang off the walls, echoing and increasing as 
the immortal was lead up to he who will return. The crystal 
of Lazaro had been lovingly placed in the corpse's hands. 

Larzaro had sacrificed nine of his loyalist followers to 
create that crystal and then himself. Every century one 
Immortal had been given to the stone, one for each mortal 
sacrifice. This was the century of Lazaro's sacrifice and 
everything would be complete. Again, one Immortal for 
each follower and now, finally, one for Lazaro himself. This 
Immortal was whimpering and begging for mercy, nothing 
like the defiant and stubborn pride of his predecessor. 
Soon, however, this would be completed and the Returned 
would lead them into a new world that they would create. 

With one sweep, the Immortal's life was over, but 
everything was just beginning. Blue-white light swept 
through the room, a mist that passed through and around 
them creating eerie shadows on the wall. 

Still, the chanting continued. The light condensed and 
circled their leader and the crystal in his hands until he was 
almost to bright to look at. A few fell back at the suddenly 
blinding flash from the stone, but they were the minority. 
The body on the alter rose, his eyes filled with blue fire. 

Part 6 
=======

 Angelus watched his prey leave the inn's common room 
and go out into the night. He smiled and moved to follow 
him, exiting his chair with the easy grace of a predator, 
which was exactly what he was. 

As he moved towards the door, he was struck from behind. 
Turning, he faced one of drunks, who ran into him. "Hey, 
watch where you're goin'." The drunk pushed him again.

 Angelus cocked his head slightly and looked at the drunk, 
saying nothing, then smiled menacingly. The man wasn't 
as inebriated as he seemed because he backed off. He 
continued to walk out the door, but when he looked around, 
his prey had vanished completely. 

This didn't faze him at all, Angelus was nothing if not a 
hunter. 

*** 

He found who he was looking for some time later. It was 
now into the morning hours of darkness and maybe it 
hadn't been intelligence he had seen in those eyes if the 
man was out here by himself. This was where many of the 
robberies and murders had happened and he was just 
riding at a walk towards it. 

He was a faded shadow of a shadow in the darkness, 
following quietly behind and he scented them. There were 
men beside the road, just like the knew he would be here. 

Angelus recognized some of the men, betting that the drunk 
had probably been scoping out potential marks. It seemed 
that the man he was following was oblivious to his danger, 
and Angelus realized that he might lose his objective to 
someone else. 

The man just stopped and looked around, staring very 
deliberately into the trees that held the brigands. He gave a 
bit of a snort and Angelus wondered if he had sensed what 
the forest hid, but then dismissed it as an overactive 
imagination. 

The horse moved again at a walk, like a deliberate 
temptation. The bandits certainly took the bait and 
surrounded the man on the horse from both sides. What 
happened next was very unexpected. 

The man pulled out a sword with a practised sweep and 
with one move, decapitated one of the five who had gotten 
too close in an attempt to halt the horse. This was when the 
criminals realized that this wasn't the easy prey that they 
had been expecting and one tried to escape while the other 
three stood stock still in shock, staring at the fallen body of 
their comrade. 

The man simply turned his horse and literally ran one of 
them down and plunged the sword into his chest. The 
horse leap lightly over the fallen body, the man keeping his 
seat effortlessly. The smart thing to do would have been to 
run into the trees, but they obviously weren't that smart and 
now were angry about the deaths of their friends. 

They were planning to stand their ground against a 
mounted fighter. Angelus almost laughed. 

Their opponent did laugh, but there was no humour in his 
voice. He pulled out a knife secreted somewhere in his 
clothing and threw it with what could have been deadly 
accuracy, if that was what he had wanted. It wasn't. It hit 
one in the stomach, leaving the man to die a painful and 
slow death. 

"You know, I'm almost disappointed. I expected more of a 
challenge." The tone was conversational, almost pleasant, 
as if discussing the weather or time of day. 

The two remaining men plunged into the woods, leaving 
Angelus to watch as the man leapt from his mount to follow 
them into the trees. The vampire had only to wait minutes 
before following the screams and the scent of blood. 

*** 

Both were still alive, but Angelus suspected they wished 
that they weren't. He decided to wait and watch, this was 
just to pleasant a spectacle to pass up. One cradled his 
arm in his hands and attempted to inch away. The man 
smiled gently at him before forcing him down to the ground 
by grabbing onto his injured arm. The other was in a worse 
way. He had obviously been stabbed like his comrade on 
the road. 

"He had just gotten married, but I bet you don't care. Right 
now there's a pregnant woman sitting in their home who is 
already a widow." 

He kneeled down beside the one with the injured arm. "I 
promised her I'd find out who was responsible and get 
justice. It seems I've found you." He began to toy with a 
knife, turning it restlessly between his hands. 

*** 

It had been exquisite. Angelus now realized what a shame 
it would have been if he had killed this man. Such violence 
from a human, beautiful. Lust flowed through him. This 
man was his, he just didn't know it yet. 

The object of his observation was staring out into the forest 
with blank eyes, but turned as Angelus left the shadows. 
His face showed no surprise or fear, merely mild curiosity, 
and a hand reached up to wipe away some of the dried 
blood from his face. 

*** 

Angel woke with a start. It had been a long past few days 
and he'd really needed to rest, but he hadn't exactly 
expected to drop off like that. The strange part was that the 
man from his memory was still downstairs, being pestered 
by Wesley, not that he seemed to mind. He now seemed 
like a student, which was exactly what he claimed to be, 
that and working for a historical preservation society or 
something, not the dangerous killer he had met two 
centuries past. 

Cordelia and Gunn had rolled their eyes at some of Wes' 
enthusiastic questions, but had stopped soon after they 
were given equally enthusiastic answers. Adam, for that 
was what his name was, admitted to being about five 
hundred and that he was able to read as many dead 
languages as Wesley, history being something of a hobby. 

Clothes, preferably clean ones, were next on his to do list. It 
was nice to have such a small list.

 Angel smiled. Things seemed better after he'd finally had a 
decent sleep, even if it had been disturbed by dreams. Of 
course, he'd have to face what he'd almost done to Adam, 
but he'd just take it a piece at a time. 

Suddenly, instead of the drone of conversation, there was 
silence as someone rushed through the door. Angel 
dressed as quickly as he could and made his way 
downstairs. 

"Is this Angel Investigation?" "Yes," replied Cordelia. "What 
can we help you with?" 

"I've heard you specialize in the unusual." Angel could 
smell the man's fear as he got closer and saw that he was 
continuously looking behind him. 

Cordelia nodded. "That's right. The stranger the better. 
You've have something strange that you want us to 
investigate?" 

The man swallowed. "I guess you could say that." 

Angel saw Wesley and Adam reenter the room. Upon 
seeing the potential client, Adam froze and hatred filled his 
features. His voice was low but carried clearly. "You." 

It was an accusation and Wesley grabbed Adam's arm 
before he did something rash in the lobby. Only Angel had 
seen both in the past and last night what he was capable of 
doing and was relieved that he wouldn't have to clean up 
the mess. 

The man was backing towards the door. "Um, maybe I've 
made a mistake." 

"He's one of them," Adam said, wrenching himself from 
Wesley's grasp. 

Angel answered his question. "Yes, maybe you have, but I 
would still like to know why you're here." 

*** 

"We thought that Francis would return. Whatever it is in that 
body isn't him. The first thing he did was accuse us of 
ruining all his plans and then he started killing most of the 
higher ranks." 

He looked around nervously. "I managed to sneak out. It's 
like he's lost his mind. If it really is Lazaro, then he's been 
stuck in a piece of crystal for a thousand years. I don't know 
how powerful he is, but he's angry that the, um, original 
sacrifice escaped. Like, maybe he's weaker or more 
vulnerable than he should be." 

He deliberately avoided Adam's gaze. "You have to stop 
him. We made a huge mistake. He also mentioned 
something about finding you." 

He finally met looked at Adam. "It seemed like he thought it 
was very important." 

Well, he certainly had more for his research now. Wesley, 
however, was disappointed that the ex-member of the 
Order of Lazaro would say something more helpful, like 
how to stop this disaster from happening. They did know 
what he was going after, that being Adam, but doing 
anything about it could be difficult. 

Bloody hell, couldn't they ever get a break? 

*** 

Lazaro looked at the prostrate figures. They were placing 
their lives in his hands. It was a good feeling, but it didn't 
help cool his inner rage. After being stuck for a millennium 
in a rock, having his plans ruined in the last two hours 
before his return was intolerable. He knew one of these 
figures was responsible, more than anyone else. His 
thoughts echoed with guilt. 

"Rise."

 He used one finger and pushed upwards. The man 
scrambled to his feet. 

"Martin?" he asked gently. 

Martin licked his lips. "Yes?" 

"You told them, didn't you?" 

"Told who?" The eyes searching for an exit would have 
been a give away of what he had done even if he hadn't 
been radiating his shame like a candle in the darkness. 

"Those who came here and stole the sacrifice. *You* are 
responsible. Don't bother hiding it. I know." 

"It wasn't my fault. He came out of no where." The man was 
literally shaking. 

Lazaro smiled. The other occupants of the room were 
about to learn a great lesson about honesty. "Then why 
didn't you say so in the first place? A yes would have been 
sufficient. Don't worry, Martin, I'm not going to be 
unnecessarily cruel." 

That statement clearly didn't bring relief. He raised his 
hand to Martin's head. "But I will do what's necessary." 

With that, he *pushed*. Martin screamed and blood came 
out of his nose and he dropped writhing to the ground. 
Lazaro didn't both watching his death throws. He had better 
things to do. 

He stopped in front of Roberto. "Stand up." For some 
reason, Roberto looked scared. 

"You were the one who organized the attempt to retrieve the 
sacrifice." 

"Yes." 

"It obviously didn't succeed." He could tell that Roberto 
thought he was next. It was exactly the opposite. "Of course, 
you salvaged the rest of the situation. You are to be 
commended. You are now in charge of finding him. I want 
him brought before me in chains."

 He really did. The whole point was to become nearly 
invincible. Even without the full powers he was planning on 
enjoying, immortality was a nice part of the bargain. Only 
Death himself could kill him and he intended to eliminate 
Death first. Using him in the ceremony would have had the 
added bonus of Death's immense power and taking him 
out at the same time, now he would just have to settle for 
one. He could almost feel him. He was still in the city. 
Lazaro smiled. 

***

 "Well, now that I know what the Order is called, I've 
managed to come up with a few things." Wesley was a bit 
disturbed by what he'd found. "It's a millennia cult, created 
when everyone thought the world was going to end in the 
year 1000. Unlike most, they decided that there was going 
to be another thousand years, and that their leader would 
be resurrected to lead them. There aren't many details. 
They seemed fairly benign. I guess no one found out about 
the part where they cut off people's heads." 

"And?" Cordelia said impatiently. 

"Anyway, as I was saying, there isn't much, but I did find a 
reference to a prophecy. As far as I can make out, only 
Death himself can destroy the risen one. Death is referred 
to as a person and I get the feeling that they aren't 
speaking metaphorically." Now they only had to find the 
personification of Death and convince him that he should 
help them. 

Adam looked like he felt about the whole business. 

The three of them looked towards the door. Angel was out 
with Edward, as he'd said his name was, trying to gather 
more information. Edward thought that maybe he could get 
inside, but wasn't going by himself. Now they just had to 
wait for him to return so they could begin to plan. 

*** 

Edward entered nervously. He hoped that no one had 
noticed his absence. The place seemed almost deserted, 
so he continued downstairs. It was as black as pitch. 
*Maybe no one's here.* 

"I'm here, Edward." He recognized that voice. It was the 
voice of whatever it was in Francis' body. "I've been waiting 
for you to return." 

There was pain and Edward screamed and knew no more. 

Part 7 

====== 

Angel returned to the hotel. He shouldn't have let the man 
go back in there. So far, how many deaths had he caused 
with his fight with the Order of Lazaro? He didn't know and 
he didn't really want to. At least most of them remained 
faceless, but he knew that there had to be several, mortal 
and Immortal. 

Everyone was looking at him expectantly, but saw the look 
that must have showed on his face. 

"Angel? We know who can kill him." 

Angel turned to Wesley. Wesley's expression was grim. 
"We need the personification of Death, otherwise he'll just 
reform his body again." 

That was the last straw. Angel kept walking and moved 
passed them. There was no point in stopping. Only Death 
could kill him. What was the point? It looked like Adam and 
possibly the rest of them had no hope. Just one of his 
multitude of sins. 

*** 

Angel lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Adam 
knocked quietly, but Angel ignored him. He walked over to 
him anyway. 

"It wasn't your fault. Edward got himself involved and he 
volunteered." He sat down on the bed lightly. 

"We have no way of stopping him. You should probably 
leave." 

Adam shook his head. "I'm not leaving. He can be stopped, 
otherwise, why would someone write the prophecy in the 
first place? Angel, even if I don't get out of this, you still 
saved my life. I'm grateful for that. Any way I can help?" 

"How can you say that? After what I tried to do to you." 

"Tried. You couldn't have succeeded anyway and I would 
have survived. You were a different person then. Two 
hundred years is a long time and you have a soul now." 

"As if that makes a difference. So do most serial killers." 

"A soul means you get a choice. A demon doesn't. I'd know, 
I've picked the darker path enough myself." 

Angel snorted. It definitely didn't compare. "I didn't just kill a 
few people avenging a friend's death. I was one of the most 
feared vampires in Europe. I killed thousands of innocents, 
people who had done nothing wrong except been in the 
same place as me. I saw you and wanted to make you a 
monster just like me. How can anyone forgive that?" 

***Flashback*** 

1797 

Penn had been a bit of a disappointment, Angelus had to 
admit. No creativity there, always the same thing over and 
over. Sure, he did what he did well, but it wasn't the same. It 
is possible he might improve with time, but here was a 
human who already had a certain flair for cruelty. Not to 
mention the rest of him, which Angelus wanted to find out if 
it delectable as it looked and maybe if he brought a little 
'brother' with him, Penn would thrive in the competition. 

As he moved closer, the man's eyes followed him, but that 
was all. "Well, what do we have here? It seems you went 
and had a party without me. I'm very disappointed that I 
didn't get an invitation." 

"How thoughtless of me. If I do it again, you'll be the first to 
know." The voice held no humour, but was as dead as the 
man they were said to. 

Angelus smiled. He was definitely going to be there next 
time. The man smiled back, but again there was no 
amusement in it. "Demon, I suggest leaving. It looks like its 
almost morning." 

Angelus gaped. There was no other word for it. The worst 
part was that this was a correct observation. He'd waited 
too long and if he didn't go now, he'd never go anywhere 
again. "I'll see you again."

 "Yes, I'm sure you will." 

Angelus tried to find him the next day. The man was gone, 
but the trail wasn't totally cold. He followed from town to 
town until reaching a seaport. 

"Aye, I've seen him. Went to make his fortune in the new 
world, he has." The old man looked at him expectantly. 

Angelus handed him a coin. "Thanks you. He owes me 
money. No wonder he decided to go seek his fortune 
elsewhere." 

"Too bad about that, sir." He pocketed the coin. 

"Yes, too bad." Angelus sated his annoyance on the old 
man's blood. There was no changing it now. He had to 
meet Penn and had delayed too long. 

***End Flashback*** 

Adam didn't move an inch. "I went to America. It's kind of 
unnerving to have a vampire stalking you." 

"How'd you know what I was?" It was a question that had 
always bothered him. He had done nothing to give himself 
away. 

"I get feelings sometimes. I can't rely on them because it 
only happens once in a while, but sometimes you just 
know. It's saved my life more than once. I can tell you're 
different now, otherwise I would have run in the other 
direction the moment I revived. You can't live in the past, 
Angel. Do that and it will only catch up with you." 

"Everyone thinks that they understand. No one does," he 
said viciously, mentally adding *not even you* though he 
wished that this weren't the case. Adam's eyes were filled 
with empathy, but how could he really understand. He 
might be Immortal, but he had never been a demon. 

"It's still here." He pointed to his chest and sat up, curling 
himself up with his back to the wall. "I can still do all those 
things. How much of a push would it take to throw me over 
the edge? That demon is still here, in me."

 Adam's hand brushed his arm and he shivered. "I do 
understand, more than I like to. Let me tell you a story." 
Adam resettled himself cross-legged on the bed. "There 
was once a man, not a saint by any means, but he wasn't a 
horrible person. He had a loving family, a wife he cared 
about and a daughter that was the most important thing in 
his life." 

Adam's voice became slightly less confident sounding, like 
he was living through his story instead of telling it. "All that 
was taken away in a single day when raiders came. Of 
course, he was Immortal and revived."

 Angel knew he was talking about himself. "The raiders had 
thought that he'd simply survived and decided to have a bit 
of fun with him. Since he almost managed to live through 
that, they sold him as a slave. He spent most of the next 
few hundred years between slavery to various masters, 
most cruel. Anytime he managed to escape and start 
again, it was taken away. So, he finally decided to be the 
taker instead of the taken." 

Adam had to be older than what he'd confessed to and 
there was genuine pain in his voice that made Angel want 
to reach out to him, but he guessed that at this moment it 
wouldn't be appreciated. 

"I was a monster. I found others like me, rejected by the 
world because of what we were, driven insane by 
loneliness and pain." He gave a distressed laugh. "We took 
alright. We destroyed everything in our path. For a thousand 
years, we were together. I was as bad as any demon, 
worse because I wasn't one. Our Immortality gave us a 
great advantage. How many civilizations have been 
forgotten because there was nothing left to remember? I 
don't know. Tens of thousands of people dead by my 
hands. How many people can say that they are mentioned 
personally in the Bible as a symbol of destruction and 
pain?" 

There were tears streaming down his face. Angel reached 
out a hand and wiped them away. Adam leaned into the 
caress. "I do understand. I live with what I did every day. It 
can't be undone. Moving on is all you can do and maybe 
hope that tomorrow you can make a difference to balance 
out all that evil. It would be so much easier to just be what I 
was and not care. So easy just to slip back. It's been 
thousands of years and I've been a killer since, all my kind 
are, but its happened more than once where I did slip back 
and had to claw my way back into the light. You met me at 
one of those times." 

Angel shook his head. "You were avenging the death of a 
friend." 

"Maybe so, but even scum deserve a chance. You know, 
thanks to you I ended up becoming a doctor again. Saving 
lives instead of taking them." Adam moved and sat beside 
him. 

"Everyone has their demons, Angel. We just know what 
ours are capable of. That doesn't mean that everything that 
goes wrong in the world is your fault, or mine for that 
matter." Adam's head came down and rested strangely 
comfortably on his shoulder. It felt good to finally meet 
someone who genuinely understood him. "I came here to 
tell you something." Adam's voice was soft and harsh from 
tears. "I know where to find Death." 

"Why didn't you tell the others?" If he knew then why not tell 
them and cause so much worry. "I didn't think they'd be as 
understanding about it as you are." The meaning was 
perfectly clear. 

"Then you are..." 

"Death. Yes, I was anyway. But you can call me Methos. All 
my friends do." 

Part 8 

====== 

"I spent most of a century alone. I couldn't stand to be near 
any of my old compatriots and they couldn't stand me and 
who else would want anything to do with a vampire, even 
one with a soul?" 

Methos smiled and spoke quietly. "I would."

 Angel gave a faint smile in return. "Well, you would be the 
exception. Then, I met someone. Actually, it was more like 
saw someone. The Slayer." 

"As in the vampire slayer?" 

"Yes." 

"Boy, you have worse taste in women than I do!" 

Angel gave him a playful punch that silenced the talkative 
Immortal. It was wonderful to have someone to tell who 
was willing to listen. "I went to the Hellmouth to help her. I 
didn't expect to fall for her. After all, she was just a child, or 
so I thought. She'd had to grow up so fast when she 
became the Chosen One. I didn't think, really, about the 
curse. It just sort of happened. True happiness and sex are 
definitely not the same thing, but it wasn't until after. I was 
watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful. That was 
when it happened. You know, they couldn't have picked a 
worse curse to put on me. Is there a worse possible undo 
clause that they could put on it?" 

"I can't think of one. To be happy and then lose your soul..." 

"I got it back, obviously, but not before hurting so many 
people. Afterwards, it was like walking on glass. I still loved 
her, still do, but it can't happen. She's a Slayer, I'm a 
vampire who can never find contentment. So, here I am in 
Los Angeles. Even with Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn, I'm 
alone. Without them, though, I don't know what I'd do." 

"We'll have to work on that." Methos' voice was low and 
Angel turned in his direction. 

Abruptly, Wesley burst through the door, startling them both 
out of whatever had been about to happen. 

*** 

"That's it!" Wesley slammed the book shut in satisfaction. 
The Four Horsemen, including Death, were Immortals. 
Angel had to hear about this and maybe Adam knew who 
this man was. He practically ran up the stairs and rushed 
through the door at high speed. "I've found out who..." 

Wesley let his voice trail off as he took in the scene. Adam 
and Angel were sitting on the bed quite close to each other 
and seemed very intent. "I'm not interrupting anything, am 
I? I think I can just go. Never mind. I'll tell you later." 

He turned around and was making his way to the exit when 
Angel's voice stopped him. "Wes, what did you find?" 

I guess I'm wrong. "Well, Death is an Immortal, a member 
of the Four Horsemen. He has to be at least four thousand 
years old."

 He looked at Adam. "Do you have any idea about who this 
could be?" 

Angel and Adam looked at each other. "Actually, yes. That 
would be me." 

*Him?* Well, Adam wasn't exactly what he'd pictured as the 
incarnation of Death, but it wasn't something you go around 
telling everyone without a reason. "You? Aren't you a little 
young?" 

"I said five hundred. Years, decades, after a while you can't 
tell the difference anymore. I think it might be a sign of old 
age." 

"You're five thousand years old?!?" From his research there 
was only one known Immortal who fit that description and 
he was considered a myth by even his own kind. "You're 
Methos?" 

"Yes, nice to meet you. Sorry about not saying it straight out. 
It's not the kind of thing I like to tell every Tom, Dick and 
Harry. Word gets around." 

"Yes, I see. If your power gets transferred to the victor, your 
head is probably the most sought after on the entire 
planet." 

"Sought after?" It was Angel's turn to ask a question. 

"In the end, there can be only one Immortal. I don't know if 
it's true, but everyone else seems to believe it. We kill each 
other in single combat. The winner takes the opponents 
head and their quickening, their power and experience. It's 
barbaric, I know, but this existed long before their were 
civilizations." 

"And why would they want you?" 

"Power comes from the number of heads taken and age. 
I'm the oldest Immortal left and have been for over a 
thousand years, though these days the old ones have been 
dying off at an incredible rate. There is over a thousand 
years between me and the second oldest. Most younger 
immortals feel that killing me would guarantee that they'll 
be the last one. Strangely enough, they never seem to think 
that there might be a reason I survived this long. It kind of 
puts a damper on any relationships between Immortals." 

*** 

Roberto spotted the hotel. This was where their goal 
awaited. Unfortunately they would have to wrest it from the 
vampire that lived here. He smiled. That was why he was 
going to enter the door last. 

"You know what to do. Watch out for the vampire and the 
Immortal is dangerous. Okay, let's do it. Stay in the sun if 
you can, that should prevent the vampire from attacking 
you." 

With that said, the group walked up to the door 
determinedly. 

* 

The attack was sudden with no warning. Fortunately, Gunn 
and Cordelia had gone to her place to pick up a few things, 
putting them out of the way of danger. Unfortunately, that 
meant it was the three of them against the entire group. 

"Angel!" The cry came from two throats simultaneously, just 
as Angel felt the stake enter his back, missing his heart. 
His vision blackened and he went down to the sounds of 
fighting. 

*** 

"Angel?" Methos asked gently to the man who's eyes had 
just opened. He was lying on the bed, looking paler than 
even a vampire should. 

"Methos? What happened?" 

"You took a stake through the back. We had quite a time 
getting it out. How do you feel?" 

"Like I've just been stabbed in the back."

 "Very funny. Wesley, I'll think he'll live. He just made a 
horrible joke." Methos turned back to Angel. "I'm going to 
stop this. If he wants me, he's just got what he'd been 
looking for. You'll be alright." Methos straightened and 
turned around. 

"Methos, you can't do this by yourself!"

 "You're not in much of a position to help me." He gave a 
grin to reassure the vampire. "I'll be fine. No one hurts my 
friends and gets away with it."

 "So, we are friends then."

 "I certainly hope so. Sometimes its hard to look in a mirror, 
but it's also nice to finally meet someone who knows me. 
You *know* me and I know you. It's been so long since 
someone understood." 

Acting on impulse, something he hadn't done in a long 
time, he leaned down and kissed Angel. Expecting 
rejection, especially in this day and age, he was pleasantly 
surprised when Angel deepened the kiss. He could have 
stayed like this forever, tasting that wonderful mouth, but 
broke himself off reluctantly. 

"I have to go. I'll be back. I promise. I'm not going to lose 
what I didn't know I was looking for." 

*** 

Lazaro could feel him approaching. Roberto must have 
found him. Finally, the one real threat would be eliminated 
and he could get down to his actual business. "We're about 
to have company." Lazaro smiled victoriously. "Soon we can 
begin the real work." 

His followers nodded, obviously too scared to do anything 
else, though some were here out of greed. Then again, 
wasn't he also. It was somewhat a surprise when Death 
entered alone, but not unarmed. This is what he had been 
worried about. 

"It appears that Brother Roberto has failed. Go upstairs and 
subdue him. If necessary, you may kill him." The sounds of 
gunfire echoed through the building. It appeared that Death 
wasn't stuck in the past like most Immortals. Thankfully, 
Francis' memories had let him understand what was 
taking place. 

*I suppose I will have to deal with him myself.* 

*** 

*This reminds me about why I never had minions.* They 
had practically begged for death, and Death was exactly 
what they got. Now he would have to deal with Lazaro 
himself. He forced himself through the darkened halls and 
stairwells made sinister by what lay beyond them. This 
time he was prepared for magic and it wouldn't take him by 
surprise. 

Finally he reached the door to the ceremony chamber. Most 
likely, Lazaro would be inside because of the power of the 
place. That was exactly why he didn't want to enter. Too bad 
that Lazaro probably wouldn't come to him. Well, to 
misquote an old saying, if the lion won't come from Daniel, 
Daniel would go to the lion. 

***

 He was standing just outside the door. Lazaro could 
sense his quickening, old and powerful. It was regrettable 
that he couldn't steal that power for himself. Then again, it 
might be possible using the crystal. To pass up on so 
much power was unthinkable. He removed the crystal from 
the protection of its hiding place. Now all he could do was 
wait. 

*** 

Cautiously, Methos opened the door. Stealing himself, he 
entered, practically feeling the power waft over his skin as 
he passed the threshold. Nearly immediately he felt what 
were almost little spiders crawling over his mind seeking 
entrance. Lazaro was apparently trying to pull something 
similar to what had gotten him captured the first time. 

Methos kept his mind as tight as he could, letting nothing 
in. He wouldn't make the same mistake again. The room 
seemed empty, but Methos knew that wasn't the case. Why 
else would it be so protected? He pushed back, trying to 
create an assault of his own, forcing the mental tendrils 
away. Suddenly, an invisible wind picked him up and flung 
him against the wall. He kept consciousness through will 
alone as Lazaro came closer. 

***

 It was almost too easy. Though he had withstood the 
mental assault, telekinesis had proven remarkably 
effective. Or course, it was draining, but he would soon 
make up for the energy he'd lost in the process. 

He kneeled down. "This won't hurt a bit, at least, it won't 
hurt me." 

Lazaro held out the crystal and moved to touch the 
Immortal, preparing himself mentally for the energy 
transfer. Suddenly, a hand shot up and grabbed his, forcing 
the crystal out of his grip and it dropped to the floor. 

"You know, being a few millennia old lets me heal 
remarkably fast." 

There was pain as Death kicked him several times, but it 
soon too was a memory. Lazaro smiled. As if such tactics 
could work on him. He wondered why he'd even worried. 
He forced the Immortal back against the wall with another 
mental shove. 

*** 

Methos was definitely losing. How can you fight someone 
who can throw you around the room as soon as look at 
you? The answer was obvious. You take away his power 
source. Methos wondered why he hadn't thought of it 
before. Lazaro have graciously deposited him beside the 
forgotten crystal. Methos snaked out one hand and grabbed 
it. 

With a strange calm settling over him, he smashed it 
against the floor scattering it to pieces. Fire raced between 
the remnants of the crystal and Lazaro. Suddenly, his eyes 
glowed with the blue of the quickening, which then travelled 
outward in a twisted parody of a quickening without a 
beheading. 

"What's going on? Where am I?" It was Lazaro, but it 
wasn't. There was no time for questions as the corpse fell 
lifeless to the ground. It was undoubtedly over. No more 
traces of power flickered around the room. 

Epilogue 

======== 

Angel was almost happy. Methos had come back in one 
piece. 

"I told you I'd be back. It was almost ridiculously easy. All I 
had to do was break that crystal of his and he just 
disappeared." 

"I'm glad. I wasn't sure, I mean, well..." 

"You were worried, weren't you."

 He had to admit that he was. He wasn't going to lose as 
Methos had said, the one thing he hadn't known he was 
looking for. A person who could understand him and still 
care for him. "Yes." 

"I'm not going to leave, you know. You're stuck with me 
now."

 Angel had to laugh, but restrained himself because of the 
pain it caused. "You make it sound like such a burden."

 Methos smiled back. "You have no idea. Just wait." He 
rubbed his hands together conspiratorially. 

A burden that he'd gladly have. They did barely know each 
other, but it seemed like they really did *know* each other. 
But, there were other factors to consider. "The curse..." 

"Doesn't matter." Methos cut him off abruptly. "We'll find 
away to remove the happiness clause. It might take me the 
next hundred years, but I'm not sure I could find a better 
way to spend it." 

This time the kiss wasn't broken by the need to fight battles 
or evil sorcerers. Painfully bittersweet, knowing that there 
could be nothing beyond. At least, not yet. 

*** 

Theo was free. The darkness had lifted and he was again 
standing in white fire. "Susan?" he called. 

"I'm here, Theo." 

"It really is you." 

"Of course it is." 

"Then I'm not dreaming." 

"No. This is as real as anything you've ever seen. Perhaps 
more so. Come on, we have quite a journey ahead of us." 

*** 

"Lindsey, the Senior Partners have had some rather 
disturbing news." 

Lindsey listened attentively. He still wasn't sure what the 
senior partners wanted with some grad student from some 
unknown place called Seacouver, but they could also order 
his death at any moment and that tended to make one 
listen. 

"It seems that Adam Pierson and Angel are together." 

Of course they were. Somehow Angel managed to work his 
way into every pie the firm had their fingers in. 

"Together, it is possible that they will remain on the side of 
light. This could be quite disastrous. We have complete 
faith in your, um, abilities. We need at least one of them on 
our side. Your going to make that happen..." 

THE END 

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