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Authors Chapter Notes:
Story takes place after NFA, non-comics canon, so The Immortal's involved. This is a crossover with Highlander, and as I have only a passing familiarity with their 'verse, may not be fully in keeping with their timeline.


Ask anybody in Rome, and they'd all agree: Ilona Costa Bianchi was not the kind of woman that men crossed without consequences. Her beautiful, fashionably attired exterior and engaging, gregarious manner blinded many casual observers to the steel and ice that lay beneath, but her employees knew the truth. She suffered neither fools, setbacks, or petty annoyances lightly. And one of the things that annoyed her most, aside from poorly tailored suits, was being kept from her Wednesday appointment. The nervous underling currently before her was guilty on both counts.

He watched her flip idly through the folder she held, swallowing hard at the look in her eyes when she closed it and glanced up at him. “I... uh... that is, the department... I-I mean Mr Sandusky thought-”

She cut him off with an upraised hand. “This news, it is most unsettling, and I will deal with it. You are to say nothing, understand?” He was nodding frantically before she finished. “Now, then- if you have nothing further, I am late for my cosina brocere.”

Ilona watched the boy practically fall over his feet in his hurry to get away. An amusing young pup, although one in decided need of a few fashion lessons if he intended to go much further up the corporate ladder. She turned to lay the folder on her desk, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “No further interruptions,” she instructed Dominique, breezing past the secretary without waiting for an acknowledgment Her instructions were always followed, particularly with regard to her Wednesday afternoons.

Her car and driver were waiting, just as they always were, and no directions were needed to tell Julian where they were going. He'd been with her for seven years now, and could probably find his way blindfolded to just about any destination in Rome. And since her Wednesday appointment meant that he had the afternoon off, he was almost as eager as she to get underway.

Like many of Wolfram & Hart's CEOs, Ilona spent most of her evenings in the luxurious penthouse suite above the office, but she was unique in that she also maintained a separate apartment, where most of her personal items were stored. Her mother's Rococo clock and grandfather's collection of antique daggers were there, as were the pictures and paintings of her family. She was from an a distinguished line of powerful people that had settled in Rome during the Renaissance and begun their service to Wolfram & Hart shortly thereafter. Her lover liked to tease her about her piazza and the shiny new opulence that mingled with more old-world elegance, but Ilona adored it. Besides, it came in quite handy for her little Wednesday breaks, since her lover refused to set foot in the buildings of Wolfram & Hart. And hotels were such a tacky American thing for something like this.

The car pulled up to the curb and Julian hurried around to open her door. Ilona turned her cell phone off and left it, along with her purse, sitting on the floor of the car. “Six o'clock,” she reminded Julian. Not that she needed to after following the same routine almost every Wednesday for nearly four years, but there was a routine they'd fallen into, and mentioning the pick-up time was part of it. Julian nodded and touched his hat, watching respectfully as she headed into the building, her steps quickening as she disappeared behind the door.

She checked her wristwatch while she waited for the elevator, frowning as she saw that the incompetent cub at her office had made her almost fifteen minutes late. While she couldn't deny the importance and value of the information he'd provided, she could wish that he'd been just a little earlier in bringing it to her. She mulled over the new details, thinking about the next step on the ride up to the tenth floor, but when she stepped off to see her lover leaning against the wall by her door, she put it all aside.

“You're late,” he complained.

“Something came up,” she retorted. “And I knew you'd wait.”

He took hold of her wrist and pulled her close, one arm sliding around her waist. “Did you, now? Maybe I should remind you of why I usually don't have to.”

The light brush of his lips on her throat made her sigh as a shiver slid down her spine. “Perhaps you'll need to spend the afternoon making sure I don't forget, no? After all, I'm not the fastest of learners.”

His chuckle vibrated against her skin. “Can't quite get away with that act with me, Ilona. But I'm more than willing to put in the time you think you need. I've got my own reputation to uphold, have to make sure you're fully satisfied.”

“Since when has the great Immortal failed to leave his lovers any other way besides limp and thoroughly debauched?” she purred, twining fingers through his hair, pressing him tighter against her neck.

He nipped her skin gently, then pushed her back. “Never, of course. And you're certainly not going to be the first!” With a laugh, Methos swatted her ass, took the keys from her fingers and opened the door, then picked her up and carried her inside, kicking it closed behind him.

Several very pleasurable hours later, Ilona was lying curled up against her lover's side in the wreck they'd made of the sheets. They were taking a break for the moment, although she knew they would end up coupling at least twice more before she left to go back to the office. She nuzzled his chest, smiling when he groaned softly and reached up to stroke her hair. “So what was it that kept me waiting?”

“There was a problem in Los Angeles,” she told him. “The Black Thorn... they were attacked.”

“The Black Thorn?” His hand paused for a moment, and she nudged it with her head to start the soothing motion again. “Who'd be stupid enough to try and take them out?”

“Who else? The great vampire hero.” She laughed. “Perhaps he was misled as to the power they hold, or maybe he was looking to commit suicide without actually falling on his own stake. Either way, there was only one end to the fight. A shame that his friends all followed him, though. Particularly the other vampire.” Ilona sighed, wishing the blond vampire hadn't been quite so eager to leave Rome. He'd been one she wouldn't have minded getting to know a little- or a lot- better.

“Other vampire? I thought he just had a couple of humans working with him.” Methos didn't stop petting her, but she could hear a note of tension enter his voice.

“Afraid of more competition for your new ragazza's heart?” she teased lightly. A scowl was her only answer, so she smiled and patted him lightly. “You really should offer her your bed again. Perhaps now she has ceased to mourn, she will be more open to exploring that which you can give her, no?”

He shook his head. “She's still mourning, probably will for the rest of her life. I've tried to talk to her, get her to see that this incredible, wonderful man she remembers would've wanted her to move on, but she won't hear of it.”

“She might've considered it if she'd seen these. The vampires, they generally are not the ones I would choose, but with her... but they are gone now. Such a pity, too. Angelus was too serious for me, but Spike seemed like-”

“Spike?!” He sat up suddenly, both hands grabbing her arms as he held her out and looked into her eyes. “What did you say about Spike?”

She stared at him, shocked by the strange interest he seemed to be showing in the blond vampire. “You knew these vampires, then?

“We've run across each other on a few occasions. There was this one time, back in 1913...” A brief smile played over his lips before he shook his head, as though pulling himself away from the memory. “Never mind. How did you hear about Spike?”

“He was quite charming. A little upset about his coat, what with the bomb destroying it, but that was fixed easily enough. You really didn't have to trick them like that, you know- they weren't used to-”

“Ilona!” Methos gave her a little shake, his hands tightening as he struggled to keep his temper under control. “You're not making any sense.”

“A few months ago, when you were playing your little game with Angelus over the-”

“Capo's head, yeah. But what does that have to do with Spike?”

She gave him a curious look, then said slowly, as though speaking to a child, “He came to Rome with Angelus, to get the head.”

The brunet frowned, trying to reconcile Ilona's mention of Spike with the Slayer that had curled up in his arms and cried over her lost vampire almost every night since he'd met her. “But he's dead,” he stated flatly. “She said she saw... that there was no way he could've survived. And she wouldn't lie to me.”

Ilona's eyes widened. “Spike was the Slayer's vampire?” She'd heard countless tales of the girl who had given her love too late to a vampire that died to save the world, but never had the name of the lost lover been mentioned. And now that same lover had gone into battle against the Black Thorn, a fight that he never could've won, so he was gone once more. “Poverina.“

Methos relaxed his grip, slowly rubbing her arms. “A good reason never to fall in love, isn't it?”

“Absolutely.” Ilona slid a hand up his chest, curling it around his neck. Sliding into his lap, she breathed, “And a life without lovers is not to be thought of.” She pulled him down for a kiss, and as he eased her back onto the bed, both forgot about the Slayer and her vampire, losing themselves in the languid embrace of long time lovers as easily as they always did.




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