It's Not Exactly Stealing

By Jill

A/N: There's been some monkeying with the timelines to make this work. Move Highlander forward a few years so that Duncan's fight with Ahriman took place right around the time of Buffy's fight with Glory. This is set somewhere near the sixth and final season of Highlander: the Series, ignore End Game. And it's set a couple months after the season six finale of Buffy, shortly before the season seven premiere--just pretend Willow's breakdown occured sometime in late fall rather than in the spring.

Chapter 1

Legolas was stalking about the clearing as a lion in captivity might pace a new cage. On the surface, the elf seemed to take his unexpected trip to another world in stride. Upon awaking he asked only, "This is your world?" and after receiving confirmation of that fact from Methos, he said nothing further. There was no complaint or panic, no brow wrinkled in consternation and dismay, not even inquiry as to how he could return home. Legolas simply stood and started examining the forest around him. However, all was not right with the elf. There was an indefinite air of agitation surrounding him. He paced up and down the clearing, stopping every so often as if listening for something, and with each pause his agitation grew.

Meanwhile, the Immortal was busily examining the markings on the stones. Methos now knew enough of Elvish to decipher the writings, but it still wasn’t as easy as reading a morning newspaper. Reading the instructions necessary for sending Legolas home again was going to take a little time.

"Good news. It’s just as I thought," Methos said when he finished reading the stones. "It works just the same on this end as it did on the other. Only the times are reversed."

"That is good news indeed. I can return home come summer?" Legolas said, some of the tension leaving his pose.

"Looks like," Methos confirmed. "The six months shouldn’t be too much of a burden, even if you have taken an immediate dislike to my home world."

"I wouldn’t say dislike," Legolas said slightly sheepish, suddenly realizing how his agitation might be construed as offensive. "This world is just so very strange."

"Strange how? You’ve only seen this little patch of woods," Methos asked, puzzled by Legolas’s statement.

"The woods, they are unlike any I have seen before. The trees, they are... sleeping. But, it is not a normal winter’s sleep. It is deep and dreamless and I doubt that they shall ever wake," Legolas said with an almost imperceptible shutter.

"Now that you mention it... they do look somehow... less alive than the greenery of Middle-earth," Methos said meditatively. Then shrugging aside such concerns in favor of the more pragmatic, he continued, "Sleeping trees aside, I’d like a hot bath and all the comforts of civilization. I suggest we start hiking or we’ll be sleeping on cold ground rather than in warm beds tonight."

Legolas nodded in agreement and followed Methos as the Immortal set off on the trail which lead down the mountain. "Since I will be here for the coming months, perhaps you should tell me what to expect."

"Well, for starters, you can’t tell people you’re an elf, no one would believe you. You probably want to cover your ears too. If people see them they’ll think they’re fake and assume you’re some sort of nutcase who went in for plastic surgery."

"I don’t understand. What is plastic surgery?"

"Plastic surgery is when someone has pieces of their flesh cut off, pulled tighter, added to another part of their body, or otherwise rearranged in order to change his or her appearance. Inserting foreign objects under the skin is also very popular."

"Why would anyone do such things?" Legolas asked aghast.

"For the sake of beauty. What’s a few months of swelling, bruising, and stitches compared to a lifetime of good looks?" Methos asked, finding the elf’s reaction highly amusing.

"But, that is insane!" Legolas protested.

"In all probability you’re right, which is why you want to cover your ears. If you don’t, half the people will assume you’re mentally unstable and the other half will want to inspect them up close and ask for the name of your surgeon."

"I see." Legolas said, unbraiding his hair. "What else should I do to avoid attracting attention?"

Methos examined his friend, taking in the leather, the tunic, and the weapons. But, those weren’t the major problem. ‘I didn’t really notice it in the larger than life surroundings of Middle-earth, but elves just aren’t humans. He’s more beautiful than handsome, but not prissy or delicate, something I’ve never seen a human carry off. He moves like some sort of cat, only dancers come close. Heck, he kind of glows. Women, and men, will be throwing themselves at him left and right. I’ll have no peace till I pack him off home,’ Methos thought with some consternation. Finally he said, "I don’t think that will be possible. A change of wardrobe might help a little, but women are going to be coming out of the woodwork."

"During the time I spent in Minas Tirith, I grew somewhat accustomed to the awe filled stares. The men of Middle-earth all know of the existence of the elves, but few have met us in person. I am no stranger to such reactions," Legolas said in resignation.

"But, in Middle-earth men are aware of the division between elves and men. Elves are magical and special, above the common person’s touch. Here, you’re just a regular person who happens to look a lot better than average. There are going to be a lot more stares of lust than stares of awe, and plenty of women who’ll do a lot more than stare."

"Surely, once they realize that I am a traveler only here for a short while and not interested in marriage, they shall look to other prospects for a husband," Legolas protested.

"Who said anything about marriage? That’s another thing about this world you should be aware of. Just in the past few decades we’ve had a little thing called the sexual revolution. Scientists developed a safe and reliable way to prevent conception. Since then, sex outside of marriage has become common and not secret."

"There are going to be large numbers of women following me around, wanting me to lie with them?" Legolas said slowly, wondering what sort of madhouse he had fallen into.

"That’s right. They’re going to be throwing themselves at you in droves," Methos said gleefully.

"Is there anything else you think I should know?" Legolas asked, dreading the further indignities that might be lying in wait for him.

"Well, we’ll probably spend the next six months in the States. I’ll stay Adam Pierson a little while longer; creating a new identity isn’t something I want to attempt, while entertaining a guest. A basic understanding of the English language would be helpful."

"Elves have a natural affinity for language," Legolas said, happy to change the subject to something which wasn’t apt to cause him intense discomfort.

"That’s good. I suppose there’s no time like the present..." Methos replied then he started the English lesson, pointing out various items along the side of the trail and giving the English words for them.

The two kept walking, and as the sun began to set they spotted the lights of civilization through a break in the trees. "It looks like we won’t have to do any camping after all," Methos said, relieved. Legolas and Methos had accomplished quite a bit during the long hike. His Elven affinity for language had served Legolas well. He was still far from fluent, but he had managed to learn the basics every tourist needs to get by--greetings, asking directions, that type of thing.

* * * * * *

Joe and Duncan had been in Switzerland for the past several days and still hadn’t found anything. Duncan was able to access some of Methos’s files with the password he’d been given, but they contained no clues. All Duncan was able to find were some research notes on runic translations that mentioned a trip to a nearby library, and he had already followed that lead to a dead end. They also questioned all the hotel employees, car rental agents, bartenders, etceteras who had some contact with Methos during his stay in Switzerland. They made no headway in the search what so ever. The only bright side was the fact that another room came free when a couple cut short their trip--after the man broke his ankle in a skiing accident.

"I don’t think we’re going to find him," Duncan told Joe over dinner.

"You’re giving up?" Joe asked skeptically. "When’s the last time you let anything go?"

"I’m not giving up. I’m being realistic. There’s nothing more we can do. We’ve asked all the questions and have searched every where we could think of searching. I don’t think we’re going to find him till he wants to be found," Duncan said with resignation.

"Too bad the old man isn’t here to hear that. He’d faint from the shock. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod actually doing the pragmatic thing rather than carrying loyalty to extremes," Joe said shaking his head in disbelief.

"I’m sure he’d be very proud," Duncan added dryly. "You don’t seem too concerned about Methos’s welfare anymore. Why is that?"

"The more we look at this the more convinced I am that nothing happened to him. No one noticed any other strangers in the area other than Grey and since summertime is off-season they would have noticed. Grey’s dead, so that pretty much rules out Immortal trouble. The only other way I can see him disappearing so completely is if he wanted to," Joe reasoned.

"But why? Why wouldn’t he take his things with him or let me know he wasn’t coming to Paris? He must have known we would worry," Duncan asked.

"Who knows how his mind works? I’m sure he had his reasons," Joe said philosophically.

"They had better be some pretty good reasons," Duncan muttered darkly, growing irritated at the oldest Immortal’s apparent lack of consideration. Then he suddenly sat up straight, alertly looking around the restaurant.

"An Immortal?"

"Yes..." then spotting a man just entering the restaurant, he added, "Methos."

Joe turned in his seat to see for himself and said, "That’s him alright."

* * * * * *

Legolas and Methos were walking past the restaurant on the way to the village’s only inn when Methos abruptly stopped. This was the second abrupt stop since they reached the village. The first one was when Methos spotted a newspaper dated only six months after his departure rather than a year and a half. Apparently, the gates operated outside of normal time.

"What is it?" Legolas asked.

"Another Immortal," Methos answered, a knowing grin slowly spreading across his face.

"Here to fight you?"

"Possible, but not likely. Unless I miss my guess, we just got lucky. It looks like a friend came looking for me. Come on," Methos said, opening the door of the restaurant.

Legolas and Methos entered the restaurant just as Duncan rose from his seat to greet Methos. Methos noticed the disgruntled expression on Duncan’s face and paused for a split second--deciding on what evasive actions to take in order to avoid a lecture. Then he lead Legolas over to Duncan and Joe’s table.

"Mac! I’ve missed you!" Methos said enthusiastically then hugged the younger Immortal, giving Joe a conspiratory wink over Duncan’s shoulder. Duncan’s eyes widened in shock at Methos’s greeting. The old man was never that demonstrative, and he’d only been gone for six months.

"It’s good to see you too," Duncan replied hesitantly, confused by Methos’s peculiar greeting. Then, noticing Methos’s ponytail--the older Immortal’s hair having grown out in the more than a year without a barber--and regaining his equilibrium, he added, "I like the hair." After all the comments he had received on his own shorn locks the year before, and Methos’s previous remarks about the impracticality of long hair, Duncan couldn’t let Methos’s long hair pass without comment.

"As fascinating as your new hairdo is, I’d like to know where you’ve been and who your friend is," Joe prompted, nodding toward Legolas who was standing slightly behind Methos, blending into the shadows and silently observing what was going on.

"Right," Methos said. "Duncan, Joe, this is Legolas Greenleaf. Legolas these are my friends Duncan MacLeod and Joe Dawson. You’ll get the full story of where I’ve been later," he promised, looking around the room in such a way as to indicate that the story was best reserved for more private surroundings.

"It’s good to meet you Legolas," Joe said warmly. "You’ll have to forgive me for not standing. These bum legs of mine have been giving me trouble in this cold weather."

Legolas gave Methos an inquiring look, his limited English vocabulary not covering the situation. In Westron, Methos explained, "An old war injury of his is acting up, and he’s asking you to excuse his not rising to greet you."

"Ah," Legolas replied in the same language, "tell him there is nothing to be excused."

Turning back to his increasingly curious friends, "Legolas doesn’t speak English," Methos explained.

Duncan, had no idea of what to make of Legolas’s strange clothing, a language unlike any he’d ever heard before, Methos’s long hair, or anything else about the peculiar situation. Dying with curiosity, he invited Methos and Legolas to dine with him and Joe.

"I thought you’d never ask," Methos accepted the invitation and took a seat.

Methos waved the waiter over and ordered for Legolas and himself. After the order was taken, conversation resumed in awkward fits and starts. The fact that the topic of greatest interest to Joe and Duncan was off limits for the moment made things difficult enough. The fact that Legolas couldn’t understand English made the situation even more awkward.

After their food arrived and Methos had made a rather large dent in a very rare steak, the oldest Immortal decided to get down to business. "How much damage control will I need to do to get my I.D.’s straightened out?" Methos asked Joe between bites, knowing the Watcher would be aware of how much the authorities had found out about ‘Mike Adams’ in the six months he’d been missing.

Duncan and Joe--surprised at Methos bringing up such a subject in front of Legolas, a non-Immortal--exchanged a glance. Joe paused a moment, then figuring Methos knew what he was doing, shrugged and said, "Not even the... my organization connected ‘Mike Adams’ to you."

"That’s good. I’ll only have to create a passport for Legolas, since mine’s still good. Shouldn’t take long, once I lay my hands on an Internet capable computer. I suppose the local authorities took my laptop?"

"They did," Duncan said. "But, some ‘friends’ managed to liberate it and sent it on to Joe."

"Never let it be said that the Watcher’s Council doesn’t have its uses. Legolas will have a plausible passport and the four of us will be on a private jet back to Seacouver by the end of the week," Methos said.

"Private jet? Seacouver?" Duncan asked, greatly confused.

"I assume you two are only here looking for me. Here I am, so now we can go," Methos explained as if speaking to a two year old.

"We thought you’d decided to leave Adam Pierson behind and stay away from Seacouver for awhile," Joe interjected, trying to head off the bickering which was about to begin between his two best friends.

"I was. I still am... going to leave Seacouver. But, since Legolas is going to be my guest for the next few months, I thought I’d put off building a new identity till after he leaves," Methos said, polishing off the last of the steak and trying to get the waiter’s attention so he could order dessert.

"But what about the private jet? That certainly isn’t something ‘Adam Pierson’ can afford," Duncan asked.

"Do you want to fly commercial mere days before Christmas?" Methos returned.

"Well, no, of course not," Duncan answered suspiciously, knowing there had to be a catch.

"Great, then there’s not a problem. Wealthy antique dealer, Duncan MacLeod, can easily afford a private jet and might as well give his friends a lift while he’s at it," Methos said, giving Duncan his most charming smile.

"I’m sure your vast bank accounts under multiple aliases could just as easily cover the cost," Duncan pointed out in return. He didn’t mind spending money, but Methos’s constant and almost gleeful freeloading was slightly irksome. It was the principle of the thing.

"But, ‘Adam Pierson’ doesn’t have two nickels to rub together. A well laid false trail takes weeks of planning which I haven’t done," Methos protested. Then putting on a martyred expression and sighing extravagantly he added, "I suppose I could cover the cost and hope the Watchers just assume it wasn’t me picking up the tab. And, if they did start to wonder, it’s not as if they had any evidence of who I really am."

"Fine," Duncan relented, "I wouldn’t want to blow your cover." Duncan sat silently for a moment, knowing that Methos had just won another round of their on going game of one-upmanship. Then a thought occurred to him and Duncan couldn’t quite restrain a wicked grin. "You sub-let your apartment, didn’t you?" Duncan asked, surreptitiously catching Joe’s eye to get Joe to play along.

"Yeah, I did." Methos said. "I suppose I’ll have to find a new place, since Legolas is staying with me. Your couch will just have to get by without me."

"Yes, it’s too bad I don’t have enough room for you and Legolas," Duncan said with false sincerity.

"What about the Victorian?" Joe asked, while Duncan made a show of trying to get Joe to keep quiet.

"Victorian?" Methos said curiously.

Joe looked back and forth between Methos and Duncan then said, "Sorry Mac, it just sort of slipped. Duncan bought a big Victorian just before flying to Paris."

"If you don’t want guests, you just have to say so," Methos said in a mock injured tone. "Legolas and I can stay in a hotel until I can find some little place Adam Pierson can afford. It won’t be too terrible. I’ve heard that Motel 6’s aren’t all that bad."

"That won’t be necessary," Duncan said grudgingly. "There’s plenty of room in my new house."

"Only if you’re sure you want us to come," Methos said to tease Duncan that extra little bit.

"I’m positive. I insist," Duncan said, sounding irritated, but really quite pleased with the situation. Methos won on the private jet round, but Duncan was just about to win the next one.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile in Sunnydale at the Summer’s residence...

Dawn and Buffy were inspecting a pan of burnt Christmas cookies. "I’m sorry Dawn. I tried to follow Mom’s recipe but..." Buffy trailed off sadly.

"That’s okay. They’re not so bad." Dawn said cheerfully, picking one up and trying to take a bite. After unsuccessfully knawing on the charred cookie for a moment, "Okay, so their not edible... but they still look Christmassy. Actually, they’re kind of cool," she continued, banging the rock hard cookie on the edge of the counter. "We could drill little holes in them and use them as ornaments. Maybe paint them or add some glitter or something to make them pretty?"

"Nice to know they’ll be good for something," Buffy agreed with a chuckle, somewhat cheered by her sister’s enthusiasm. "We’ll get to work on that... after I patrol," she said glancing out the window, noting that the sun had set while she’d baked the tree ornaments.

"Can I come?" Dawn asked.

"Well, I don’t know..."

"It’s Christmas break; you can’t use homework or a school night as an excuse."

"Yes, but..."

"You said yourself you wanted to show me the world not hide me from it."

"I know; I just don’t want you in any danger."

"This is the Hellmouth! When am I not in danger? Besides, with Willow and Xander in England with Giles you could use some help."

"Dawn, if I let you patrol with me I want you to stay back from the fight and to be very careful. Jumping into the action to help me is a good way for you to get yourself hurt, or worse," Buffy warned.

"Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I don’t want to get myself hurt either. But, you have to admit, I kicked some major... uhmm... behind, helping you with those cave guys."

"I suppose that is true, you weren’t half bad in that cave" Buffy reluctantly conceded. "Go get your coat. If we run into trouble, stay back and let me handle it."

"Okay, I’m getting my coat. I’ll be back in just a minute. This is so cool," Dawn squealed as she skipped out of the kitchen to fetch her coat.

* * * * * *

A couple hours later, Buffy and a much less excited Dawn headed home. It was a slow night. Buffy staked two vampires, both just risen and easy to dust, and all else was quiet.

"I’m cold," Dawn complained.

"That’s what happens when you’re outside too long this time of year. That’s why they call it winter," Buffy said brightly, getting her revenge for all the times Dawn complained about Buffy going on patrol without her.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. Is patrol usually this boring?" Dawn asked.

"Nine times out of ten. The rest of the time the world’s coming to an end."

"Right, boring equals good. Got it," Dawn said vehemently, really not liking her own brushes with apocalypse. Then after a pause, she added, "Why didn’t you tell me patrol was like this all the times I’ve bugged you to go along, instead of just going on about the danger?"

"Would you have believed me?" Buffy asked.

"No, probably not."

Just as they reached their own street, they heard a woman screaming, "NO! You can’t have him!"

"It’s coming from that house over there," Buffy said running toward a house three doors down from their own, the door of which had been completely torn off its hinges.

"It’s Mrs. Maxwell," Dawn said wheezing a little and barely able to keep up.

Buffy reached the house, jumped over the porch railing, and entered the house through the open doorway. Inside she found Mrs. Maxwell struggling to keep a demon away from her small son. The demon was small, not much bigger than Buffy. It had three eyes and was covered in greenish, yellowish tentacles which glistened with some sort of oily substance. On the bright side, it wasn’t very fast. Mrs. Maxwell was even able to cut off the tentacles reaching for her son with a kitchen knife. Unfortunately, as soon as the tentacles fell to the ground they’d disappear and reappear, reattached to the demon as if they were never cut off.

Dawn stumbled in the house, soon after Buffy. As soon as she saw the monster she blurted out, "Eeew, gross!"

"That’s what I was about to say," Buffy said then launched herself at the demon. Buffy kicked and punched the monster too rapidly for it to even contemplate dodging. With each blow it was pushed step by step toward the door, but it never seemed to be hurt. It was only Buffy’s momentum driving the creature back. The demon wasn’t trying to avoid pain. This went on for another couple moments then the demon happened to look out of a window. It shrieked and disappeared.

"What was that?" Dawn asked.

"I don’t know."

"Whatever it was, you killed it. Didn’t you?" Dawn said nervously.

"I don’t think so," Buffy said.

"Do you think it’ll come back?" Dawn asked, knowing the answer but not wanting to see the gross thing again.

"Don’t they always?" Buffy replied with a shrug. Just then, their conversation was interrupted by a loud thud. Mrs. Maxwell, overcome by the excitement, had fainted. "Dawn, go see if she’s okay. I’ll call 911."

"911? What about the demon?" Dawn asked as she knelt beside Mrs. Maxwell.

"It’s not here now, and she needs medical help. I doubt yet another gas leak slash animal and/or PCP attack will bother them too much," Buffy said rolling her eyes as she dialed 911.

* * * * * *

The next morning Buffy was getting ready for her shift at the DoubleMeat Palace and Dawn was eating cereal in her PJs in front of the TV. Buffy put the last glass from breakfast in the sink and walked into the front room. "I’ve got a double shift so I’m not going to be back till late," Buffy told Dawn. "Beep me if you need anything."

"You mean like there’s some demon action you need to know about," Dawn said.

"No, I meant like I need to pick up some more milk on the way home," Buffy said dryly.

"Oh."

"Speaking of demons, you could look at the stuff scanned into Willow’s laptop and see what you can find on the icky green guy we saw last night."

"Research..." Dawn whined. Buffy’d let Dawn help with that a few weeks ago. Dawn already knew how unthrilling musty books could be. "This is Christmas vacation and that’s almost like school work. Besides there’s an all day Christmas cartoon marathon on today."

"Research during the commercials," Buffy suggested. "We really need to find out about swamp thing. It was after little Joshua and I have no idea how to kill it. I don’t think the usual hack and slash is going to work."

"All right. I’ll do the research. I wouldn’t want swamp thing to hurt any little kids just so I could watch cartoons," Dawn agreed.

Dawn went through every record on the computer but couldn’t find any mention of a demon matching this one’s description. By the time Buffy got home, Dawn was getting a little anxious about the situation. Reading through the records had fired Dawn’s already overactive imagination. All the possible terrible things the monster might be up to kept running through Dawn’s mind.

When Buffy came in the kitchen she found Dawn sitting at the counter, staring at the last record in the files, lost in thought. "So, did you find the demon?" Buffy asked.

Dawn jumped in surprise, not having noticed Buffy’s entrance. "No, it’s not in here. Maybe we should call Giles," Dawn suggested.

Buffy thought about it a minute then said, "I really don’t want to bother him with this if I don’t have to. With Willow staying with him, even with Xander and that coven helping, he must have his hands full."

"And Willow’ll feel guilty about not being here to help us," Dawn added, nodding in agreement. "But, if it’s not in this stuff and we can’t call Giles how do we find out?"

"Anya might know, if only we knew where she was," Buffy said rubbing the kinks out of her neck.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Anya’s back!" Dawn said.

"She’s back? I passed by the apartment on my way home, all the lights were out."

"She moved, too many reminders or something. I don’t know where she’s living, but she’s reopening the Magic Box. I saw her there with some construction guys last week. She said I could come back to work a couple weeks after Christmas when the work’s suppose to be done."

"We’ll go by there tomorrow. I’ve got the morning off. Hopefully she’ll be there," Buffy said stifling a yawn.

"She seemed really impatient to get the store opened and making money again. She’ll probably be hard at work, bright and early," Dawn said.

* * * * * *

Middle-earth, next to the stone circle, mere moments after Methos and Legolas’s disappearance...

"The solution to the puzzle appears to have worked," Arwen observed faintly looking around the clearing which now held two fewer people.

"Worked too well, if you ask me," Gimli complained. "Why did those lights take Legolas too? Adam was the only one looking to go home."

"I’d guess it is because he is also an immortal, though of a different variety," Aragorn speculated.

Gimli grunted noncommittally at this observation and said, "What I want to know is how to get him back."

"Is there anything we can do?" Arwen asked.

Aragorn thought over what he’d been told of the workings of the ‘Gates’ then answered, "I believe all we can do is wait."

"Wait?!" Gimli protested, worried about his friend.

"Legolas is likely with Adam in his world as Adam was with us in ours, he will be fine for the time being. In all likelihood, he must simply wait for the time to be right to make his return. Adam did say that these stones only worked once a year, the ones on the other side probably work in much the same way," Aragorn explained his theory.

"And if they don’t?" Gimli asked.

"I don’t know what we’ll do," Aragorn admitted. "But, if the stones work as Adam believes they do, Legolas should return six months from now. We should wait for that time to pass with no sign of him before we begin to worry in earnest."

Gimli looked over the clearing in silence for a moment then asked, "I wonder what strange tales we will hear from him come summer?"

"I wonder that as well," Arwen agreed.

Chapter 2

Buffy and Dawn went to see Anya at the Magic Box the next day. They ducked under the scaffolding in front of the door and entered the shop. Inside they found Anya telling two men in overalls exactly where to place a new display case. "A little farther forward, little further back, now a little left, that’s right," she instructed, "Now you can go get the other one. And, hurry up! Time is money and money is important." The men exited, relieved to get away from their slave driver, perfectionist boss for a few minutes.

"Hey, Anya. The place is looking pretty good, almost ready for customers, though I’m not sure about the pink walls. You should have dropped by the house to let us know you were back. We could have helped get this place back into shape," Buffy said in greeting.

"You would have helped, even though I’m a justice demon again? I thought you guys were avoiding me?" Anya asked, surprised to see Buffy and even more surprised at the offer of help.

"Of course we would have helped!" Dawn interjected. "You’re our friend and we help friends, even the demonie ones... as long as they’re the good demonie ones."

"What she said," Buffy seconded.

"You mean that?" Anya said and at Dawn and Buffy’s nods of confirmation ran up and hugged each of them saying, "I thought you would avoid me, after you found out I was a demon again. You were always more Xander’s friends than mine."

"What can I say, Anya, you’ve grown on us," Buffy said with a friendly smile. "And you really came through with the Willow situation. Demon or not that counts for a lot."

"You don’t mind that I’m a demon," Anya said hopefully.

"I don’t. It’s actually kind of cool," Dawn replied.

"Well, not minding might be going a little far. I mean, I don’t care if you give some guy crabs for cheating on his girlfriend--jerk probably deserves it--but death and mayhem because some couple has relationship issues, that I have a problem with," Buffy explained.

"I don’t think you need to worry about it too much," Anya reassured Buffy. "I wasn’t really thinking when I went back to being a demon. I used to not care what the consequences of a wish were, but now I think of all the terrible things that could go wrong. People are always wishing so irresponsibly and once a wish is made, it’s made. I can only try to undo it before anything too permanent happens, I can’t change the wish to something less dangerous. I’ve been too worried about what might happen to grant any wishes since I’ve become a demon again."

"That’s good to know," Buffy said relieved. "I wouldn’t want there to be another one of those alternate universes like the one vamp Willow came from popping up."

"If something like that happens, it won’t be because of me. I’m not going to use the power of the wish until I figure out a way of controlling it better. Like you said, making a guy lose all his hair or turining him into a pig is one thing, but what if some woman wishes for the stock market to crash so her boyfriend will lose all his money? That would be terrible."

"Absolutely horrific," Buffy agreed dryly, thinking endangering Anya’s pocketbook was the swiftest way to get the demon worried. "Now that we have that settled. I was wondering if you could help us with something?"

"Do you want a loan?" Anya asked suspiciously, knowing of Buffy’s financial woes and not easily switching from one train of thought to the next.

"No, nothing like that. Demon trouble, we need some info," Buffy explained.

"Sure. What do you need to know?" Anya agreed.

"Short, slimy, puke green demon, three eyes, lots of tentacles... Ring any bells?" Buffy asked.

"Was he trying to take a little kid?"

"Yeah, little Joshua from down the street. Cute kid, but he’s a biter," Dawn said.

"And you couldn’t hurt him? The demon I mean, not the little kid. You wouldn’t want to hurt the kid because that would be wrong."

"Pieces were cut off, but they disappeared and then--poof--back, good as new. So what is it?" Buffy asked.

"Sounds like a Kratha demon. They’re not really dangerous most of the time. They’re slow, weak, and mostly keep to themselves," Anya started to explain.

"Then why was it after Joshua?" Dawn interrupted.

"I was getting to that. Kratha demons are nearly immortal, but they get their immortality by stealing the lives of others. They usually go after the ones with the most life left in them..."

"Kids," Buffy finished for Anya. "So how do I kill it?"

"The only way I’ve ever heard of a Kratha being killed is with a sword of Kali."

"Great. So all I need is a one of those swords. Where do I get one? I’m guessing I can’t just pick one up at the local Wal-mart," said Buffy, feeling like some progress was finally being made.

"They were all in Indian temples to Kali, before the British came. Now, I don’t know where they are. I can probably find one though. The Magic Box does business all over the world with all the biggest supernatural artifact dealers," Anya offered.

"What am I supposed to do in the mean time?" Buffy demanded. "I can’t just let it go around taking little kids while I wait for that sword to arrive."

"Well, that ceremony has to be done at a certain time on certain days of the month. If it tried last night the next time is probably a couple weeks away. If I can find a sword, we’ll have it by then," Anya replied defensively.

"Thanks Anya," Buffy said half apologetically, just to let Anya know that it was the situation she found frustrating, nothing Anya did.

"Don’t worry, we have time to find one of those swords. I’m sure Anya will come through." Dawn, the eternal optimist, said encouragingly.

* * * * * *

In Seacouver...

Duncan, Legolas, and Methos were on the roof of Duncan’s new home nailing down shingles, some working more diligently than others. Nailing down the last shingle in the stack next to him, Methos sat back on his heels, yawned, stretched, and said, "Well, I’ve finished my pile. It’s time for a break."

"Here, you can start on these," Duncan said handing Methos another handful of shingles.

"We have been working for less than an hour. Surely we can do more than that to repay MacLeod for his kind hospitality," Legolas added. He was not exaggerating when he’d mentioned an elvish knack for language. Legolas had managed to learned passable English in the week and a half he’d been in Methos’s world.

"Traitor," Methos said, going back to work.

"We’re just about out of shingles," Duncan observed. Then as Methos was just about to offer to fetch some, Duncan continued, "Legolas, would you get them?"

"Of course, I’ll be back in a minute." Legolas said. He then walked across the crossbeam of the roof to the other end of the building where several unopened packages of shingles were stacked, glancing back only once to check Methos’s reaction to once again being thwarted in his attempts to get out of manual labor. Legolas was not one to hold a grudge, but since the Immortal found Legolas’s reaction to the flight to the States so very amusing, Legolas felt Methos’s current predicament to be only fair.

The elf had found flying through the air in a metal machine to be highly unnatural and more than a little nerve wracking. He’d spent the entire flight clutching the arms of his seat and trying not to think about what was going on. Methos found something about a nervous elf extremely funny and didn’t bother to restrain his laughter.

"How does he do that?" Duncan asked observing the elf walk along the roof. "Amanda’s balance isn’t that good. She could make it across well enough, but she’d have to step carefully. He isn’t even watching where he’s going."

"I don’t know. It’s an elf thing. Extremely good balance is just part of the elf package," Methos replied with a shrug.

"Elf package? Elves are all just natural high-wire artists?" Duncan asked, feeling like he was missing something. Then a second later he added, "Shouldn’t he be a little more careful?"

"Legolas is in no danger of falling. Elves may look like humans with pointy ears, but they’re not. Different rules apply," Methos elaborated.

"Different rules as in no law of gravity?" Duncan asked skeptically.

"I wouldn’t go quite that far. Look just accept that he knows what he’s doing and move on. He’s not going to fall," Methos said trying to close the subject.

"I hope you’re right. I’m not looking forward to an afternoon at the hospital trying to explain elvish physiology to the doctors," Duncan said, turning back to his work.

Legolas returned with the shingles a few moments later and the three worked for the rest of the morning, stopping just before noon for lunch.

"Fish stew?" Methos asked unhappily, sniffing the air as he entered the kitchen.

"Yeah, I put it on this morning. It should be done by now," Duncan answered.

"It smells delicious," Legolas added.

"If you like fish stew," Methos grumbled.

"I take it you don’t," said Legolas

"I’ve had worse, but it’s definitely not one of my favorites."

"That’s because you’ve never had my fish stew," Duncan said, never one to be overly modest. "I got the recipe from the head chef aboard the QE2. Perfectly seasoned and no fishy after taste, I promise."

"We’ll see, won’t we," Methos said skeptically.

The three men sat down to lunch and spent several minutes eating in silence. The thick, creamy stew was just what they needed after a long cold morning working on the roof.

"You know, this stew isn’t half bad," Methos reluctantly conceded.

"It’s excellent," Legolas agreed eating another spoonful.

Just then, the phone rang and Duncan went to answer it, wondering if it was his electrician calling back. Duncan was willing to take on the bulk of the necessary home improvements himself, but some things were better left to the experts.

"Hello?" Duncan answered the phone.

"Duncan MacLeod?" the woman on the phone asked.

"Speaking."

"Mr. MacLeod, I’m Anya Jenkins calling on behalf of the Magic Box. You recently purchased a Sword of Kali from the Webster auction. I need it."

"You need it?"

"Yes. It is very important. Normally, I’d pretend not to need it so I could bargain the price down, but I don’t have time. How much money do you want?"

"Uh.." Duncan paused for a moment nonplused by Anya’s strange approach. "I’m afraid it’s not for sale. I bought it for my private collection."

"Well, can I borrow it? Just for a couple weeks."

"Borrow it, you mean for some sort of exhibit?"

"An exhibit? Yeah, we could call it an exhibit. So can I borrow your sword for an exhibit?"

"Is this some sort of prank? If it’s not I’d appreciate you getting to the point," Duncan said wondering what the woman was up to, she sounded far from normal.

"It’s not a prank! I need the sword for a couple weeks to kill a Kratha demon, then you can have it back good as new. Please Mr. MacLeod, it’s a matter of life and death," Anya pleaded.

"You want the sword to kill a demon?" Duncan asked slowly.

"Exactly," Anya said, relieved that Duncan finally seemed to be catching on.

"Ms. Jenkins, if you’re actually serious about fighting demons, I suggest you seek professional help," Duncan said.

"But, I’m calling on behalf of a professional," Anya protested. "This isn’t some fly by night covert ops thing like the Initiative. We just want to kill an evil demon, not harvest bits and pieces to make a super monster or anything. You won’t need to worry about misuse of your property. I want to borrow your sword for the Slayer, you can’t ask for a more professional demon slayer than that."

"I meant professional psychiatric help," Duncan replied.

"Oh... Does this mean you’re not giving me the sword?"

"Goodbye, Ms. Jenkins," Duncan hung up the phone and returned to the kitchen shaking his head in bemusement.

"So when’s the electrician coming?" Methos asked hoping it was sometime soon. They could hardly be expected to continue work on the house while he was there. They’d just be getting in the electrician’s way.

"It wasn’t him," Duncan said refilling his bowl at the stove.

"Then who was it?" Methos asked curiously.

"Some woman named Anya Jenkins. She wanted to borrow a sword I bought a couple months ago--so she could kill a demon with it."

"You’re kidding," Methos said incredulously.

"No, that is what she said," Duncan replied.

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her to get professional help."

"Pardon me, but I am confused. Did you not have an encounter with a demon yourself? Why do you discount this woman’s story? Perhaps she does indeed need assistance," Legolas suggested, confused by Duncan and Methos’s easy dismissal of Anya’s story.

"I don’t doubt she needs assistance, but not in fighting demons at least not ones that exist outside her own mind. I defeated the demon Ahriman not much more than a year ago, but that was a special case. He only comes once every thousand years and he wasn’t something that could be destroyed with a blade. Demons are, thankfully, rare and not allowed to physically manifest. If there really is a demon plaguing Ms. Jenkins, a bronze sword won’t do her any good," Duncan explained quietly, his own encounter with a demon still very close to the surface.

"I see," Legolas said, nodding in understanding.

"Well, if everyone is through eating, we should get back to work," Duncan said with forced cheer, purposefully changing the subject from mad women and demons.

Methos groaned and said, "I’m not going back on that roof. It’s freezing up there and I’ve only just thawed out."

"Of course you’re not. We’ll leave the rest of the roof for another day. Right now we’re going to start pulling up the rotten sections of floorboard on the third floor," Duncan said enthusiastically.

"Fantastic. I can hardly wait," Methos said sarcastically.

Legolas exchanged a humor filled glance with Duncan and said, "I’m ready when you are." The elf prince was enjoying the simple physical labor. It made a nice change from the pressures of leadership and the tedium of ruling. It was also nice to be physically active when it didn’t mean life or death and the fate of a world wasn’t hanging in the balance. He didn’t regret voluteering to help with the renovations for a moment.

* * * * * *

Buffy, Dawn, and Anya were gathered around one of the new display cases at the Magic Box, looking rather dispirited. "So you can’t get the sword?" Buffy said.

"I tracked all of them down. The only one left, intact, and not in a museum isn’t for sale," said Anya.

"What if you told the owner how much we needed it?" Dawn suggested.

"Tell him what?" Buffy asked. "That we needed it to kill a demon and save a child’s life? He’d think we were nuts."

"It might work," Dawn persisted.

"No, it won’t. I tried that, and Buffy’s right. He thought I was crazy," Anya said before the sisters could launch into a full fledged fight.

"Oh," Dawn said.

"Thanks for trying," Buffy added. "Now what do we do? I can’t let swamp thing go around killing little kids."

The three fell silent, each thinking over the problem. "Well, there is one thing we could do," Anya said reluctantly.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"Since I’m a demon again, and spacial relationships don’t really mean anything to demons, and I do know where the sword is..." Anya trailed off.

"You could do that shimmery thing you do and steal it!" Dawn finished for the demon, excited by the prospect.

"We’re not stealing anything," Buffy declared, giving Dawn a sharp look.

"But, if we don’t then that demon’s going to kill a little kid. I know stealing’s wrong, but letting a little kid die would be worse," Dawn said.

"Dawn’s right. As much as I hate to violate property laws, the basis of the entire capitalist system which keeps the world from dissolving into property less chaos, it is better for us to steal this one time than for a small person to die."

"See, I’m right. Anya agrees. So are we going to steal it?" Dawn prodded.

"Well, since there aren’t any other choices..." Buffy said starting to cave.

"And, we’ll put it right back. That way it isn’t even stealing, just borrowing. Borrowing isn’t wrong and it doesn’t undermine capitalism," Dawn continued.

"Alright, I’m in. Since we’re going to put it right back, I guess it’s not exactly stealing. Anya, when can you do it?" Buffy asked.

"Someone’s coming to do the lettering on the new window in a couple hours. I could go fetch the sword after he’s done and bring it over to your house later tonight."

"Great. You bring me the sword tonight. I’ll hunt down the demon tomorrow and we can have the sword back to it’s owner the next day," Buffy said.

"I’ll see you tonight then," Anya agreed.

"Now that that’s settled I have to go to work," Buffy said. "Dawn, are you going home or staying here to help with the inventory?"

"I think I’ll stick around a little longer."

"Don’t stay too long. I want you home before dark."

"Yes, Buffy. I’ll be home before sunset," Dawn agreed, rolling her eyes.

* * * * * *

Duncan had just stepped out of the shower and was still towel drying his hair when he heard a noise just above him, on the second floor. Methos and Legolas both had rooms on the first floor and had no reason to be up there. Duncan quickly got dressed and went to investigate.

He silently crept up the stairs and to the door of the room the noises were coming from. Cracking the door a little bit he could hear a stream of curse words and see an attractive blond woman hopping up and down on one foot. "Stupid box, now where did he put it?" he could hear her quietly muttering to herself after she recovered from stubbing her toe. She looked around the room for a moment and then went straight to a box that contained part of Duncan’s sword collection. She took out several swords, looking at each then putting them aside. Then she took out the sword of Kali, but instead of putting it with the rest of the discards she took it over to the window in order to examine it by the faint moonlight streaming in.

At this point Duncan decided to make his entrance. Sword in hand, he stepped into the room and said, "I don’t know who you are or what you think you’re doing but I suggest you put down that sword."

The woman jumped in surprise, then said, "You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. If I were still mortal you could have given me a heart attack."

"You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t usually credit thieves with weak hearts," Duncan said sarcastically.

"I’m not a thief. I’m just borrowing it. I’ll bring it back as soon as I can," the woman promised.

"You’re not going to be bringing it back, because you’re not taking it anywhere," Duncan said moving a step closer to the woman in order to end this farce.

"Actually, I am taking it. But, don’t worry, like I said, I’ll bring it back. And, I really am sorry about this. I wouldn’t do it if I had any other choice. Oh, and you probably want to hold off on filing any insurance claims. They really hate false alarms." Then the strange woman sort of rippled and disappeared.

Duncan stood in his storage room for a minute gaping in shock at the place the woman had just been standing. Then he shook himself and said, "It must be some sort of trick." He went over to the window and started inspecting every inch of the window frame, the walls, ceiling and floor. When he got to pulling up the edge of the carpet, searching for anything out of the ordinary, Methos and Legolas entered the room, curious to know what was going on.

"Mac, what are you doing?" Methos asked Duncan, who was still examining the floor.

"Huh?" Duncan said distractedly.

"I asked what you were doing? We heard noises, tapping and what sounded like voices, and came to investigate," Methos tried again.

"There was a woman here a minute ago, come to steal a 10th century, bronze, ceremonial sword. I tried to stop her and she just disappeared, taking the sword with her."

"People don’t just disappear."

"I know that. That’s what all the tapping was about. I was trying to figure out how she did it."

"And?"

"And, I have no idea. There’s nothing here."

"Are you sure? Maybe you missed something."

"I didn’t miss anything, but check for yourself if you don’t believe me," Duncan said, growing irritated at Methos’s questions. The oldest immortal sometimes acted as if no one could do anything right without his supervision.

"The sword that was stolen, was it the sword that woman asked about earlier today?" Legolas asked.

"It was," Duncan said. "And now that you mention it, there was something vaguely familiar about the woman who was just here. I think I recognized the voice."

"Do you remember what she said her name was?" Methos asked still inspecting the window.

"Anya Jenkins, representing the Magic Box," Duncan replied.

"Well then at least we have some idea of who she is, even if we don’t know exactly how she did it," Methos said.

"So you don’t have any ideas about how she did it either," Duncan said.

"Oh, I have an idea. I think she was a witch. Cassandra could do something like this, make someone think that she’d disappeared into thin air. The name of the store, or whatever it is, she represents would seem to confirm it."

"If it is magic, it is not of a kind I am familiar with. Magic leaves a trail behind, or at least it does in my world, there is no sign of magic here," Legolas said.

"Maybe things work differently here," Methos suggested.

"Maybe," Legolas agreed.

"However she did it, I want to know where Ms. Jenkins went and what she’s doing with my sword," Duncan said.

"I’ll try the Internet. Maybe the Magic Box has a website," Methos volunteered, more than a little curious about the strange woman himself.

Chapter 3

Methos sat at Duncan’s kitchen table searching the net on his laptop for information about The Magic Box. Duncan was anxiously pacing back and forth in the dinning room, occasionally peering through the doorway of the kitchen to check on Methos’s progress. Mention of magic and demons, strange women disappearing into thin air, and the theft of his property had Duncan on edge. Legolas was perched on the counter behind Methos watching the computer screen.

"Found anything yet?" Duncan asked on his latest pass by the kitchen door.

"I’ve found plenty, and as soon as I’m finished looking I’ll be happy to tell you all about it," Methos said, not even looking up from the screen.

"This machine of yours is fascinating," Legolas observed, trying to keep Duncan occupied while Methos finished his search.

"I suppose they don’t have computers where you’re from," Duncan said going over to join Legolas on the counter. He would have taken one of the empty chairs at the table but Methos had already banned him from the table for impatiently drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Besides, from the counter he might get a look at what Methos was doing.

"No, there are no such things. We would have little use for them," Legolas answered.

"How do you figure that? I’ve no great love of them myself and know first hand that the world got along perfectly well without computers, but they do come in handy from time to time."

"Our merchants and...writers? would without doubt enjoy these machines simply for the record keeping. Pushing little letter buttons would be much easier that writing on parchment. But this... Internet. That, the peoples of Middle-earth would not use."

"Really? Why is that?" Duncan asked.

"It is too... faceless. There is no way to know who one is speaking with or what the source of information is. Here, it seems that there are so many people that even face to face a person may... hide from their own identity. This Internet does not ask for more trust than is usual, here. In my land, if a man hides himself he can not be trusted. There was more than one man tempted into darkness through the lies of those he thought he knew. A man who will not put his name to his own words is even more... suspicious," Legolas struggled to explain. He’d learned a lot of English, but he was still shaky on the vocabulary for abstract concepts.

"I can understand your not liking the facelessness of it. I prefer doing business in person myself, but the convenience outweighs the problems with it. And, yes the anonymity makes deceit more likely, but isn’t assuming that it is all lies kind of paranoid?"

"Paranoid?" Legolas asked the meaning of the word.

"Fearful without reason."

"No, I would not call it paranoid," Legolas said. "My people would not believe every word told to them in anonymity to be a lie, but they would be ever mindful of the possibility. When there is even a small chance of being led to pain and death, it is reasonable to take care."

"Pain and death?" Duncan asked, "Isn’t that going a little far?"

"Not at all. For thousands of years a shadow had lain over our lands. Dark forces layed over the land searching for a way to bring the Dark Lord to power. The greedy and not careful were easily taken advantage of and...seduced into serving the will of Sauron. All know of the treachery of Saruman the wise and how his lust for power turned him to darkness. But, there were many other, lesser... players who fell to the lies of Sauron. A cloth merchant of Gondor set to spying for Sauron for example. And then there are the unfortunates who Sauron made slaves; they were broken and twisted into foul beasts, neither man nor elf, and completely given over to evil."

"Sauron, he’s the one you’d won the war with, just before Methos arrived?"

"In a way. We fought Sauron’s forces and won, but the true battle was not a contest of armies on a field. The true victory happened elsewhere and is another long tale."

"Sauron, the Dark Lord, he was the greatest force of evil in your world and he was around for millennia, but now he’s gone. Right?"

"Yes."

Duncan gave a low whistle and said, "That must have really been something, ridding yourself of a millennia old threat. I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I’ve had a good many victories in four centuries, but nothing on that scale."

"The celebration went on for quite sometime," Legolas said with a wide grin.

"I can see where a certain level of mistrust would make sense, under the circumstances. I’m surprised you trusted Methos. He’s doesn’t exactly inspire confidence; I’d be more likely to describe him as shifty," Duncan said, thinking back over what Legolas had said and not being able to resist any opportunity to tease Methos. The elder Immortal was no doubt catching every word of the conversation, despite his seeming absorption in the Internet search.

"We didn’t trust him, not at first. We only truly began to trust Adam after he saved the king’s life."

"He saved the king’s life?" Duncan asked surprised. "That doesn’t sound like the Methos I know. He’s always telling me not to get involved." ‘And, he usually makes an effort to appear uninvolved even if he is knee deep in the situation,’ Duncan finished the statement mentally. ‘Looking involved wouldn’t go with his image.’

"Thankfully, on that occasion he decided to ‘get involved.’ Our party was attacked by bandits and Methos sacrificed himself to distract a bandit who was about to kill the king."

"Methos and sacrifice, now those are two words rarely heard together. I wonder what got in to him? He usually takes such pride in being a sneaky little weasel only out for number one," Duncan said somewhat facetiously.

"I think perhaps he deceives himself in that...perception of himself. He helped my friends and myself greatly while in Middle-earth, often at his own expense. He did not have to reveal his nature to us in the way he did and would not have been faulted for the king’s death."

"That’s what I keep telling him, that he’s a better person than he claims to be. Of course he refuses to believe it, no matter how much evidence there is," Duncan said, giving the subject of their conversation a significant glance.

"As much as I hate to interrupt this, oh so enlightening, dissection of my character," Methos said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "I thought you two might be interested to know what I’ve found."

"What did you get?" Duncan asked.

"Well, the Magic Box itself was very easy to find. It has it’s own website. It’s a store specializing in magical supplies and rare mystical artifacts and it appears to have a very good reputation. It’s located in Sunnydale, California, a small town not too far from L.A., but it is mostly a mail order business and ships orders all over the world.

"Anya Jenkins is the current owner and proprietor. Here’s where the search got a little more interesting. There are no records on her dating back farther than four years ago and the earliest of those look manufactured, to the discerning eye. She graduated high school only two years ago and is already in possession of millions nearly all of which can be traced to investments less than two years old. I’d almost think she was an Immortal, except she does indeed have medical records. She broke an arm not too long ago. And the Watchers have no records of her either, I checked just in case," Methos explained.

"Medical records? Since when have they been posting those online?" Duncan asked.

"So I was a little creative in my search? You do want to know as much as possible about what’s going on," Methos said defensively.

"Now that we know there is something unusual about this woman, what are we planning to do?" Legolas asked.

"Go to Sunnydale and see what else we can find," Duncan answered.

"I’m way ahead of you," Methos said, "There’s a noon flight from Seattle to Sunnydale tomorrow. An early drive to Seattle and we can be in Sunnydale this time tomorrow."

"We?" Duncan asked.

"Of course Legolas and I are coming along. We wouldn’t think of letting you face this possibly evil, magically disappearing, reappearing woman all by yourself. Would we Legolas?" Methos answered with slightly over done sincerity.

"I would be happy to join you on your journey. I am more than a little curious as to how this woman disappeared so completely with your sword," Legolas agreed.

"Then it’s settled. We’ll go to Sunnydale tomorrow," Duncan said. "I’d better call Joe and let him know where we’ll be. If we don’t drop by on Christmas he’ll worry."

"I’ll book the flight," Methos said turning back to his computer.

Duncan went to the other room and called Joe at home. The phone rang several times and then a grumpy sounding Joe answered, "Hello."

"Sorry to call so late. Did I wake you up?" Duncan said apologetically.

"Yeah," Joe said stifling a yawn. "I closed early tonight and was catching up on my beauty rest. What’s up?"

"There’ve been some strange goings on tonight," Duncan began.

"Stranger than elves and alternate universes?"

"Maybe. I walked in on a woman stealing one of my swords..."

"That doesn’t sound very strange. How many times have you walked in on Amanda stealing one thing or another?"

"I haven’t gotten to the strange part yet. When I tried to stop her from leaving, she disappeared into thin air--sword and all."

"That is strange. What are you going to do about it?"

"Methos did some research on the Internet and we’re fairly sure the woman was one Anya Jenkins from Sunnydale, California. We’re flying out tomorrow."

"Thanks for giving me a heads up. There’ve been enough strange disappearances lately," Joe paused a moment then continued, "Mind if I come along? Vanishing women might be something the Watchers would be interested in."

"I’d be happy for you to come, but you don’t have to. I’ll tell you all about it when we come back. Christmas is only three days away, and isn’t Amy coming to see you?" Duncan said, a little surprised at Joe’s offer.

"Amy has a new boyfriend and is spending Christmas with his family," Joe said, clearly not liking the idea of a new boyfriend. "I was going to have dinner with some Watchers who couldn’t get leave, but I think they’ll be fine without me."

"Then I’ll tell Methos to book another seat and I’ll come by to pick you up tomorrow morning about eight, eight-thirty. We’re flying from Seattle on a noon flight," Duncan said. "So you don’t like the new boyfriend?"

"I can’t say; I haven’t met him. Amy seems happy though."

"But?"

"But they’ve only been going out for a few weeks and they’re already talking marriage. It’s too sudden."

"Love usually is sudden," Duncan said philosophically.

"You think I’m being overprotective and worrying over nothing."

"It’s a father’s prerogative to worry. I’ll let you go back to sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow," Duncan said.

"Goodbye Mac," Joe said then hung up the phone.

"Methos, book an extra seat on that flight," Duncan said re-entering the kitchen, "Joe’s coming."

* * * * * *

The next day in Sunnydale...

Buffy, dressed in some ratty sweats and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, was standing in her living room inspecting the sword Anya had acquired for her the previous evening. "Going after the demon now?" Dawn asked as she descended the stairs.

"Yeah, it’ll be easier to find before dark. There’ll be fewer places to look," Buffy answered.

"Oh... can I come?"

"You don’t really need to, with this sword I have it covered, as long as it works the way Anya said it would."

"But, I want to come. I wanna help."

"Okay, hurry up and change. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready," Buffy said accepting the inevitable.

"Change?" Dawn asked, puzzled.

"Anya said that Kraft demons like it dark and wet which means sewers. Wear something old and not dry clean only."

"Right, I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t leave without me," Dawn said turning back up the stairs. Then turning back to Buffy she added, "Don’t you mean Kratha demons? Kraft is cheese."

"Yeah. Right. I knew that," Buffy said, then in response to Dawn’s know it all smirk she added, "Go. Change. Now. You’ve got ten minutes, then I’m leaving without you."

Dawn ran up the stairs to change. She dug a ratty pair of sweats to match Buffy’s outfit out of the bottom of her closet and changed in record time, making it back downstairs with minutes to spare. Her first real slaying expedition, one which promised to be more than wandering around an empty cemetery holding extra stakes, was not to be missed.

The sisters left their house and entered the Sunnydale sewer system through the nearest convenient access, the manhole behind their house. Spike had removed the bolts holding it down ages ago. As soon as they were underground Buffy set off confidently down the right hand passage.

"Do you have any idea where we’re going or are we just going to wander around down here till we run into it?" Dawn asked, wrinkling her nose at the sewer stench.

"There are three major junctions where drainage meet. Since it likes to swim, that’s probably where we’ll find its lair. We’re almost at the first one. When we get there I want you to hang back and let me check it out first," Buffy instructed.

"Buffy, I thought we were past the whole keeping little Dawn clueless and out of danger thing," Dawn whined.

"Dawn, I admit I’ve been a little overprotective..." Buffy began.

"A little!" Dawn interrupted incredulously.

"Okay, a lot overprotective," Buffy admitted, "But, I’m still the Slayer and taking on the most dangerous stuff is my job. I’d ask Willow or Xander the same thing. So will you please let me check things out first?"

"Alright. I promise, I’ll stay back and be careful and stuff," Dawn promised, "But you have to be careful too. I’m not the one who died last year."

"Okay, it’s a deal. We’ll both be super careful so that nothing happens to either of us," Buffy agreed. "Now can we get on with the slaying?"

"Yes, go hack the demon to little bits."

"Alright, the junction is right around this corner. My spidey sense isn’t going off, so I don’t think he’s there but we’ll check anyway. Sometimes I miss the ones that aren’t vamps," Buffy said in a business like manner. The Slayer took the task of instructing her sister in demon hunting 101 very seriously.

Buffy peered around the corner, sword in hand and ready to use. After a moment she turned back to Dawn and said, "I don’t see him." Then Buffy lead the way into the junction chamber. Murky water was streaming from various pipes into a central pit filled with more murky water. There were also quite a few valves, gauges, and other instruments lining the walls of the chamber with a walkway suspended above the water so that sewer workers could reach them. Buffy circled the room on the walkway, looking over the side into the water and glancing behind large pipes to make sure the monster wasn’t there, and Dawn followed close behind.

"He’s not here," Dawn said, stating the obvious. "Now what d’we do?"

"Check the other places and hope he’s in one of them."

"And if he’s not?"

"Then it might be awhile before Mr. MacLeod gets his sword back. If I have to check most of the sewer system it’s going to take time," Buffy said purposefully avoiding mention of what the demon would try on the next new moon.

The sisters left the junction chamber and went on to the next one. The Kratha demon wasn’t there either. Then they set out for the third and final possibility.

"Eeeew! I just stepped in something nasty," Dawn complained.

"I told you to watch your step," Buffy said without much sympathy. She’d ruined more than one pair of shoes herself in the sewers over the years and Dawn usually just complained about how often Buffy got new stuff.

"No you didn’t."

"I didn’t? Well then, watch your step," Buffy said with a grin, correcting her earlier omission.

"Thanks a lot. I’ll be sure to do that," Dawn answered sarcastically. Then a second later she added, "How long have we been down here?"

"Nearly two hours. Why?"

"Just wondering. It seems like forever and I’m so turned around I have no idea where we are."

"That last manhole cover we passed was at the corner of Maple and Main. The junction we’re heading to is only a little farther down, under Elm, near the discount shoe store."

"You’re scary."

"I’m the Slayer. I’m suppose to strike fear into the hearts of monsters everywhere. If they have hearts... I strike fear into whatever heart-like thingy they have... in place of a heart."

"No, I mean the fact that you know your way around the sewers better than your way around town is scary. You don’t want that to get around, people will start calling you sewer girl."

"Not unless they have a death wish," Buffy warned. Then Buffy stopped abruptly.

"What is it?" Dawn asked.

"It’s here. Or something is anyway."

"So what’s the plan?"

"The plan is I kill it while you stay out of the way."

"Buffy?" Dawn said, copying Willow’s determined face as best she could.

"Alright, if you see a way to distract it--without putting yourself at risk--to give me an opening do it. But, don’t waste time trying to hurt it. We’ve only got the one special sword. So there’s not a lot you can do. Like I said before we left, I’ve got this one covered."

"Okay, distraction. I can handle distraction," Dawn said to herself.

"Let’s go then," Buffy said heading into the chamber holding the creature.

This junction chamber was pretty much like the first, pipes, valves, a walkway and lots of dirty water. The only difference was the Kratha demon lying in the water at the bottom of the pit.

Dawn gulped loudly and said, "It looks a lot bigger with all it’s tentacles spread out like that."

"Yeah it does," Buffy agreed with a shrug. Then she backed up a few steps and took a running jump at the demon. At first the demon extended its tentacles to grab the Slayer, but when Buffy sliced off the first one with the sword of Kali the demon gave a shriek of agony and tried to flee. Buffy landed feet first on the demon’s back then slid off into the hip deep water with a splash. The impact was enough to stun the creature and give Buffy time to get in a fighting position.

Then the battle started in earnest. The demon was backed up against one side of the pit desperately trying to knock the sword from Buffy’s hands. Buffy was dodging the demon’s attacks and occasionally slipping under it’s guard and cutting off a tentacle or two. The demon had a lot of appendages, so it was going to take some time, but Buffy was definitely winning. Each attack she’d cut off more tentacles because the more she cut off the fewer the demon had to defend itself with. This time, pieces which were cut off stayed cut off.

Meanwhile, Dawn was watching the fight from the sidelines. She could see that Buffy would win the fight eventually, if Buffy could keep up the pace. But, Dawn didn’t know if Buffy could do it. Sure, her sister had Slayer strength, but she’d also been working double shifts lately. Dawn looked around the room, searching for something she could use to help her sister. Then she spotted some sticks and pebbles at the base of one of the drainage pipes which must have washed in through a broken grate during the last heavy rain storm.

Dawn gathered up the pebbles and edged around the walkway till she was behind the demon. Then she started tossing the stones at the demon as hard as she could. It turned its head briefly to see what the new attack was and swiftly dismissed Dawn as no threat compared to the Slayer. But, the damage was already done. Buffy used the momentary distraction to slice off two more of the creatures tentacles, then she gave Dawn a quick glance of gratitude.

Dawn quickly ran out of pebbles and could only watch her sister fight. Then the Kratha demon, realizing that there was little chance of survival, let loose a loud shriek and charged Buffy. Buffy, lulled by the rhythm the fight had fallen into, was caught totally off guard. She managed to stay on her feet and push the demon back against the wall, but she lost hold of the sword in the process. "Dawn," she called to her sister, "did you see where the sword went?"

"Yeah, but you keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll get it for you," Dawn said knowing that the demon might manage to get away if Buffy stopped pummeling it even for a minute. Then she went over to the edge of the pit where she saw the sword fall, braced herself, and jumped in. Dawn spared a moment to wince in disgust then she felt along the bottom with her feet for the sword. It was right where she thought it was and a moment later, after she braced herself to stick her hands in the water, she fished out the sword. "Buffy," she called to get her sister’s attention, "Catch," she said, tossing the sword.

Buffy caught the sword and, with a certain gleam in her eye, went after the demon with renewed vigor. In a frenzy of blows Buffy eliminated the last of the demon’s defenses and ran the sword right through it’s heart, pinning what was left of its body to the wall.

The demon looked down at the blade protruding from it’s chest, seemingly in shock. Then in a hissing whisper it said, "It does not matter. My part was done. You will die soon." Then the monster started to swell.

"What’s happening?" Dawn asked.

"I don’t know, but it can’t be good," Buffy answered. Then the two hurried to get away from the demon, both girls simultaneously turning toward the ladder located on the opposite side of the pit. Just as they reached the ladder the demon corpse exploded, spraying sticky green slime everywhere.

"Oh, yuck! I’m covered in demon goo. This just can’t get any grosser," Dawn complained.

Buffy groaned theatrically and said, "You shouldn’t have said that. Now something even ickier has to happen."

"What could be more icky than smelly demon goop in your hair?" Dawn asked inspecting her soiled locks.

"Smelly demon goop that won’t wash out of your hair?" Buffy suggested.

Dawn squeaked in fear at the thought and dashed up the ladder saying, "Have to go home and wash. Now."

"Wait a second, I have to get the sword," Buffy said, wading back to retrieve the now demon free sword still stuck in the wall.

"Hurry up. I need to go home and shower, like yesterday."

"Actually, you don’t want to do that," Buffy advised.

"Yes, I do. Or at least I think I do... Why don’t I want to shower?" Dawn asked confused.

"If you try to wash it out now it’s like letting a stain set, the smell will linger for days. You want to wait for it to dry and flake up. Then you comb out the crumbs before washing your hair."

"Are you sure about that? This isn’t just some sneaky way for you to get first crack at the hot water?" Dawn asked skeptically.

"Trust me. Who’s the one with years of experience washing nasty stuff out of her hair? Besides, I live with you. I’d only be hurting myself if I let you be stinky for the next couple days."

"If you think we ought to wait..." Dawn agreed.

"Come on. We’ll drop this sword off at the Magic Box so Anya can return it. It should be dry by the time we get home."

Chapter 4

Seacouver, earlier that day...

"Methos, we need to leave now, if we’re going to make our flight," Duncan prodded without any noticeable success. The elder Immortal was still leisurely enjoying a morning cup of coffee without making any signs of preparing for departure.

"It’s not even eight yet and our flight isn’t till noon. We have plenty of time," Methos said dismissively. "If you’re in such a hurry, you could go ahead and put the bags in the car."

"Fine. I’ll do that. But, then we’re leaving," Duncan ordered. Then Duncan gathered up their luggage and headed out to his SUV, muttering to himself the whole time about sloth and certain Immortals he knew.

"You did that simply to irritate him," Legolas, who had been meditating in order to fortify himself for the car trip, accused.

"Maybe I did... maybe I didn’t," Methos said with a shrug. "We do have plenty of time before the flight and I hate waiting in airports. Ready for another trip in one of our ‘mechanical devices’?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be," Legolas said with some trepidation. "I have to admire the great convenience of your cars and planes. The distances machines allow you to travel in short time is wondrous. But, I can not like them. Being enclosed in a metal box while being hurled across the countryside seems wrong, somehow."

"I could never understand that. I remember when the train, the earliest of the traveling machines, was invented. A lot of people were afraid to ride on one. They thought they went too fast and a person’s blood might boil from the speed. I couldn’t wait to try one out."

"Gimli would feel the same way, I am sure. He would be excited to know how they work and to make one himself."

"Too bad he isn’t here," Methos said, nodding in agreement.

"Yes, I do miss him, but perhaps it is for the best. If he had made the trip dwarf size traveling machines would appear all about the countryside soon after our return. As great as the benefits of such machines may be, Middle-earth would never be the same afterwards."

"There is that. Middle-earth would lose something if it were suddenly motorized. Although, it’s bound to happen eventually. Change is inevitable."

"Perhaps, but that change need not happen soon. Horses should suffice for a time yet," Legolas insisted, not at all enamored of modern transportation.

Duncan came back inside and said, "The bags are all stored and you’ve had time to finish your coffee. Now, can we leave?"

Methos finished the last swallow of coffee and put the cup in the sink. Then glancing at his watch said, "We should probably leave. And, Mac, you better step on it. We don’t want to miss out flight," as if he hadn’t been the one procrastinating for the past hour.

Duncan’s eyes briefly widened in disbelief at Methos’s gall, but then he remembered who he was dealing with and simply answered, "Of course, whatever you say Methos."

"I believe he won that round," Legolas quietly observed to Methos as they went out to MacLeod’s SUV. "He doesn’t even look like he wants to strangle you, and that was the reaction you were going for, wasn’t it?"

"Call it a draw. Notice, we’re not leaving at the ungodly hour Mac planned for our departure," Methos pointed out, climbing into the back seat of the SUV.

"I would not be so sure of that. I couldn’t help overhearing his conversation with Joe. He said we’d be by at eight-thirty and unless I am mistaken it is only now a quarter to nine," Legolas said as he got into the other side.

"That sneaky Scot! He only told me six in the morning to be difficult," Methos exclaimed, eyes narrowed in calculation. "I can’t believe he’s still sore about the private jet bill."

"I believe he said something about a missing book?" Legolas suggested.

"The first edition Keats," Methos said wincing. "I didn’t think he’d notice it missing for a while yet."

"You stole a book from your friend?" Legolas asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I wouldn’t say steal exactly. I did plan to return it, before he even noticed it was gone," Methos said defensively. Then turning toward Duncan, who was seated in front of him in the drivers seat, he said, "I was going to return it."

"I don’t mind your borrowing it, I just wish you’d asked," Duncan said as he pulled out of the driveway.

"If you would have loaned it to me anyway, what’s the problem?" Methos asked.

"Never mind Methos, you wouldn’t understand," Duncan said dryly. Then after a moment he added, "What did you want it for anyway? A first edition Keats isn’t exactly up your alley."

"Keats is a favorite of Martha Simms, the head of Archaeology at Columbia. She’s currently digging up a temple I once lived in for a couple years and we discussed my buying certain artifacts, over dinner, a few weeks before my unscheduled trip," Methos explained.

"Isn’t ‘borrowing’ one of my books a little far to go, just to get on this woman’s good side?" Duncan asked.

"Never underestimate the value of a good first impression and a good first impression is all in the details," Methos explained.

"If you say so, but next time you want to make a good first impression with my belongings, make sure you ask first."

Duncan stopped by Joe’s place to pick him up; then all four of them proceeded to the Seattle airport. Duncan had planned the drive just right. They arrived at the airport, after a pleasant early lunch in Seattle, with just enough time to check their luggage and for Duncan and Methos to attend to the special shipping instructions for their swords. The Immortals couldn’t carry their swords onto the plane with them, so special arrangements had to be made to insure the blades weren’t lost, as checked luggage often was.

They boarded the plane at precisely noon, but with the increased holiday traffic take off was a bit late; they had to wait for a free run way. It was a fairly small plane, which made sense seeing as their destination was a very small regional airport rather than a major hub. What didn’t make sense was the minuscule number of people on the flight. There were only three passengers other than their little group. Sunnydale, a town none of them had ever heard of before, couldn’t attract too many visitors, but this was bizarre. Considering the time of year, they’d come expecting a pretty full flight.

Joe, nearly as insatiably curious as Methos, waved a flight attendant over. "I’m sorry sir, but I can’t serve any refreshments until the plane is in the air," the petite blond woman said apologetically.

"That’s fine... Angie," Joe answered, reading her name tag. "That’s not what I was going to ask. I was wondering if there were some more passengers we’re waiting on?" he asked looking around at the nearly empty plane.

"Oh no, this is it. There’re never very many people going to Sunnydale during the holidays," the stewardess said.

"There aren’t? Then why is there a flight? Isn’t the airline losing money?" Joe asked, confused.

"Well, there aren’t very many people going to Sunnydale, but there’s always a lot of people wanting to leave for Christmas. The outgoing flight is always packed, mostly with students from Sunnydale U going home for the holidays. Since they need to send a plane there anyway, I guess they figure they might as well sell any tickets they can," Angie explained with a shrug.

"I suppose that makes sense," Joe agreed. "Thanks."

"You’re welcome," Angie replied with a smile, grateful to have a polite passenger for a change. "Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you," she said then went back to the galley to finish preparing the snack cart.

"What do you make of that?" Joe asked his friends. "What kind of town is it that everyone wants to get out of and no one wants to visit?"

"A small town with a big college?" Duncan suggested, not overly concerned. "It’s not surprising a lot of kids fly home for Christmas."

"No there’s something more to it than that," Methos said, in agreement with Joe’s suspicion that something peculiar was going on. "There’s something I’m forgetting," Methos continued, brow wrinkled in thought. "I know I’ve heard of Sunnydale before, somewhere, and I’m pretty sure there was something significant about it, but I can’t remember what."

"That sounds ominous," Duncan said.

"It was supposed to sound ominous. I’m don’t know what I’m forgetting, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t good, whatever it is," said Methos.

"What could be so bad about a little Southern California town? It’s called Sunnydale for chrissakes, what could possibly be so wrong with it?" Duncan asked giving little credence to Methos’s vague warnings.

"Now that you mention it, Sunnydale sounds familiar to me too," Joe interjected. "Isn’t that the place that came down with a city wide case of laryngitis a year or two ago?"

"Oh yeah, I remember that," Duncan said. "There was that news report from inside the town where the reporter mimed everything and there were all those people walking around with dry erase slates."

"There was something else," Methos insisted. "There’s something important I’m forgetting. Something we should know."

"Keep working on it. I’m sure it’ll come to you eventually," Duncan said, still unconcerned.

"If there is some danger in Sunnydale we are unaware of, perhaps this trip should wait until Methos can remember what he has forgotten," Legolas suggested.

"I don’t think that’ll be necessary. If it were really important, he would have remembered," Duncan began.

"At least, we hope I would have remembered," Methos interrupted, pessimistically.

Then, slightly louder, Duncan continued, "But, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I’ll give Methos my keys and you can go back to my house."

"No, as much as I’d like to avoid another flight, I will stay. I am curious about the nature of the mysterious woman who took your sword," said Legolas.

"What if I decided I didn’t want to come?" Methos asked querulously. Duncan hadn’t offered his keys when he’d claimed to be uneasy about the trip.

"Then you can get a cab, or walk," said Duncan.

"That’s hardly fair. Joe, would you call that fair?" Methos asked the Watcher.

"Leave me out of it," the Watcher said. "You two can spend the whole flight making up for the lack of road trips during your childhood if you want to, but I plan on enjoying a nice long in flight nap." Then Joe arranged one of those U-shaped travel pillows to suit him and closed his eyes for a nap.

"Joe?" Methos said.

"What is it, Adam?" Joe asked, giving the ancient Immortal a sidelong glance through barely open eyes.

"Are we there yet?" the ancient Immortal asked in a sing-song voice.

* * * * * *

Sunnydale airport, late afternoon...

The four men stepped off the plane and headed toward the baggage claim. Legolas was looking more and more green with each step. Noticing the elf’s discomfort, Joe asked, "Is something wrong Legolas? You’re not looking so good."

"I do not feel so good," Legolas explained. "There is something very wrong with this place. Evil energies lay over everything. It is very much like the Dark Lands, before they were rid of Sauron."

"Are you going to be okay?" Duncan asked concerned, now that Joe had brought the elf’s discomfort to his attention. "We can rent a car and have you out of here in a couple hours."

"No, I will be fine. I only need a moment to adjust. I’m only feeling ill because I was unprepared. I should be able to block most of it out," Legolas reassured, already starting to look better.

"Evil energies..." Methos murmured to himself. "Of course, now I remember!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

Duncan, Joe, and Legolas looked at Methos inquiringly and Duncan said, "Remember what?"

"Sunnydale was built on the site of a Spanish mission which mysteriously disappeared and the place was known as Boca del Inferno," Methos explained.

"Sunnydale, California is the Mouth of Hell?" Duncan asked incredulously.

"That’s what they called it, and Legolas is getting queasy from evil vibes," Methos argued. "Besides, why not Sunnydale, California? If there is a Mouth of Hell, I suppose Sunnydale is as good a place as any for it."

"Assuming it is the Mouth of Hell, what are we supposed to do about it?" Duncan said skeptically.

"You’ve got me. Other than finish your business and leave as soon as possible, I don’t know that there is anything we can do," Methos answered.

"Maybe we could finish this conversation later, after we’ve checked into the hotel? I’d like a long shower and Legolas could probably use a rest," Joe suggested.

"Yes, I would like a chance to meditate," Legolas seconded.

"Right," Duncan agreed. "I’ll get the car, you get the bags and I’ll meet you out front," he said giving Methos the papers he’d need in order to pick up Duncan’s sword. Duncan and Methos might bicker like children, or an old married couple, but underneath all the wrangling they were actually very close friends, as illustrated by the way Duncan let Methos see to retrieving his sword without a second thought.

They managed to claim their luggage and their car in fairly short order, since the airport was nearly deserted, and arrived at the hotel where they had reservations minutes later. Joe and Legolas both retired to their rooms with some relief, agreeing to meet for dinner in a few hours. Methos, having asked the bellboy about Internet accessibility on the way to his room, planned on seeing what he could find on Sunnydale. He’d looked up Anya and the Magic Box previously, but hadn’t thought to look up the town itself. Duncan, antsy after hours sitting and basically doing nothing, unpacked his suit case, then began pacing his room. After the third lap he decided he might as well check out the Magic Box before dinner.

Duncan left his room and walked down the hall to the staircase at the end. When he reached the stairs, he paused for a moment then turned back down the hall and stopped in front of Methos’s door. Duncan knocked and Methos called, "Come in," knowing it was Duncan.

Duncan opened the door halfway and looked around the edge. "I spotted the Magic Box on the way in; it’s only about a block from here. I was just going to stroll over there and see what I could find out. Want to come along?"

"Maybe you shouldn’t do that, just yet," Methos suggested.

"I shouldn’t?" Duncan asked, one eyebrow raised. "Isn’t that our entire reason for coming? To visit the Magic Box?" he continued as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Of course we’ll check it out eventually, but in light of Legolas’s reaction and the rumors about this place being the Mouth of Hell, not to mention the magically disappearing woman who claimed to be fighting demons, don’t you think a certain amount of caution would be in order? At least wait until after I’ve had time to do a little checking."

"You don’t actually believe that there’s an opening to hell here do you?" Duncan asked incredulously. "I didn’t think you even believed in hell."

"I do believe in hell, after a fashion, at least in a psychological sense, but that isn’t the issue here. Whether there’s some sort of literal portal to hell here or not, I don’t know. What I do know is that there’s something very strange about this place, something which isn’t good and is most likely very dangerous. After all, there’s usually some grain of truth in every story and I’d prefer not to learn what the truth behind the name Boca del Inferno is first hand. I’d like that information to come to me from a nice safe distance," Methos argued. Seeing that he wasn’t making too much of an impact on his friend he continued, "And, I remind you again of the mysteriously disappearing, demon fighting, woman and the fact that Legolas feels an evil presence. How much more evidence of an unknown evil do you need?"

"I appreciate your concern, but I think you’re making too much of this," Duncan replied. "Boca del Inferno could just come from an earthquake splitting the ground open, Sunnydale is located on a major fault after all. Isn’t that much likelier than some mystical evilness? As for our thief, you said yourself Cassandra could do something similar. Psychic abilities are strange enough, that doesn’t mean there’s evil and danger lurking behind every bush. And Legolas’s reaction... nothing against him personally, but I’m not going to start worrying just because he’s picking up bad vibes," Duncan said, in a tone implying that Methos was hovering dangerously near the UFO-chasing-tea-leaf-reading lunatic fringe.

"Just bad vibes?" Methos asked indignantly. "Legolas isn’t some new age hippie. He’s an elf! From another dimension! They have a sixth sense about these things. If he says there’s something wrong, then there is something wrong. I thought I explained all this to you."

"From another dimension I’ll grant you. I grew up with stories of the fair folk and the land of the fairies, that part makes a certain amount of sense. He looks the part well enough too, but once you get past the looks he’s pretty much like a lot of the men I’ve fought beside in the past. He enjoys fine wines and a good fight, likes to be useful, is honorable to a fault, and is unfailingly loyal to his friends and his principles. He’s also from a highly superstitious world, not unlike Europe of a few centuries ago, and finds himself suddenly thrown into a place totally foreign to him, where you insist on making dire predictions for the future. Of course he thinks there’s something wrong. How could he not?" Duncan argued back.

Methos opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if about to say something but changing his mind at the last minute. Finally, scratching his chin thoughtfully, Methos asked, "Do you really believe all that? What you just said?"

"Yes," Duncan said hesitantly, having no idea what Methos was getting at, "yes, I do."

"Well, you better be on your way then," Methos said with a careless shrug. "The Magic Box probably closes soon."

"You’re not going to try to convince me not to go?" Duncan asked confused.

"No, of course not. You’re a grown-up and well able to take care of yourself. If you are set on going, far be it from me to try to stop you," Methos said placing a hand on Duncan’s shoulder and turning him toward the door. "But, watch your head and be back before dark. Remember what the manager said about not being out past sunset; he might not let you back in if you’re late," Methos said as he opened the door and practically shoved Duncan into the hallway.

Duncan, now in the hallway, turned around to look at the door just slammed behind him and said, "I wonder what got in to him?" Then he left the hotel to walk the block and a half to the Magic Box.

* * * * * *

Anya was in the Magic Box’s store room busily unpacking a new shipment of goods. She opened up a crate and took out a glass jar of chicken’s feet. "Chicken feet!" Anya exclaimed. "I didn’t order any chicken feet! Everyone knows there’s no money in the chicken trade. If Artemis tries charging me for these, he’s going to regret it." The bells recently re-hung in front of the door chimed and Anya called out, "Buffy? I’m in the back. Did you take care of the Kratha?"

A few seconds later a man who appeared to be the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome stepped into the stock room and said, "I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not who you were expecting."

Anya, having turned back to her chicken feet, was startled to hear a male voice behind her. She whirled around in surprise and on seeing who her visitor was, she dropped the jar, shattering it into lots of tiny little slivers. "Uhm... The store is undergoing renovations and won’t reopen till after Christmas. Please come back then and spend money," Anya said, pretending as if she didn’t recognize the man as, Duncan MacLeod, the one she’d borrowed the sword from. "We’ll have a lot of new very expensive items which I’m sure you’ll be interested in," she added taking his arm and trying to lead him out of the shop.

Duncan wasn’t budging. "Actually there is one, very expensive, item I’m interested in, a certain sword I think you might have acquired just a couple days ago."

"A sword? No swords. We don’t have any swords. You’ll just have to look somewhere else," Anya insisted.

"Somewhere else? Like, say, your apartment?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"My apartment?" Anya said with a nervous giggle. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that if the sword you stole from me isn’t here, it must be at your place, unless you’ve sold it already," Duncan said, a hint of steel entering his voice.

Anya’s spine went rigid and she said with great indignation, "I did not steal your sword. I have great respect for the sanctity of property rights and would never stoop to theft. You have no right to make such foul accusations about me and I want you to leave this instant."

Momentarily taken aback by Anya’s vehemence and apparent sincerity, a hint of doubt crept into Duncan’s mind as to whether or not Anya was indeed the guilty party. "My apologies madam. It seems I’ve made a mistake," he said stiffly then left the stock room.

"That was close. The sooner I put that sword back the better I’ll feel," Anya murmured in relief as soon as the stock room door swung shut.

Then the door bells chimed again and a familiar voice called, "Hey, Anya! The Kratha’s toast, or well more like an icky jelly..."

"Buffy!" Anya squeaked and raced out of the stock room to greet her, hoping that she’d managed to just miss Duncan. Anya’s hope was in vain. Not only was Duncan still there, he was currently staring at the sword of Kali which Buffy happened to be holding.

"Who’s your friend?" Buffy asked, nodding in Duncan’s direction.

Anya sighed in resignation and decided to perform the introductions. "Buffy, this is Duncan MacLeod, the owner of the sword. Mr. MacLeod, may I present Buffy and Dawn Summers, the ones who needed the sword."

"Hi," Dawn said half apologetically, giving a little wave.

"Yeah, sorry for the, uh, inconvenience," Buffy said handing the sword to Duncan, hilt first.

Duncan took the sword from Buffy and then turned to face Anya. "You didn’t steal the sword. You’re not a thief and I had no right to accuse you," he said sarcastically.

Anya winced a little and said, "I’m not. I was going to bring it back. I told you I would when I took it. If you’d just believed me and stayed home, you could have saved yourself the trip."

"You spoke to him when you took it?" Buffy asked. "I thought he wasn’t suppose to even realize it was missing?"

"He wasn’t, but then he walked in at just the wrong time and I had to say something," Anya explained.

"Couldn’t you have just, you know, done that thing, so he wouldn’t have known you were there?" Dawn asked.

"I would have, but by the time I noticed him, it was already too late," answered Anya.

While this conversation was taking place, Duncan was silently taking it all in, in utter disbelief. This was bizarre, even for him. He had caught the culprits red handed, but instead of making excuses and trying to convince him not to press charges, they were calmly discussing the crime as if he wasn’t even in the room. Duncan cleared his throat, to get the girls’ attention, and said, "Could one of you please explain what is going on here?"

Buffy, Dawn, and Anya looked at each other nervously for a moment. Anya gave Buffy and Dawn a wide-eyed questioning look and mouthed, "You explain," behind Duncan’s back. Dawn shook her head slightly, to refuse Anya’s order then she nudged her sister. Buffy gave Dawn and Anya evil looks for passing the story telling task to her then she began, "It’s a funny story really."

"Is it?" Duncan said dryly.

"Yeah, hilarious. You’re going to laugh," Buffy continued with a forced laugh and her most winning smile, desperately trying to come up with an explanation.

"I’m listening," he replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest, clearly, not at all amused.

Chapter 5

"Yes, uhmm, well, you see, it was like this..." Buffy fumbled around, looking for some halfway plausible explanation for their taking the sword. "It was a... sorority prank."

"Scavenger hunt," Dawn finished at the same time.

"That’s right it was a sorority scavenger hunt," Buffy said with a nervous little laugh. "You know, your typical borrow a really rare sword from someone, take a few wacky pictures with it, and return it good as new. Just a harmless little prank all in the name of sisterly bonding," Buffy babbled on.

"Go sisterhood! Woohoo!" Anya added making a little pumping motion with her fist.

"You belong to a sorority that steals antique swords for fun?" Duncan said incredulously.

"Borrows swords for fun," Buffy corrected.

"Of course, pardon me. Borrows swords for fun," Duncan granted, rolling his eyes. "But, that still doesn’t explain how Ms. Jenkins managed to disappear into thin air with my property."

Buffy, Anya, and Dawn exchanged a few more significant glances then Dawn blurted out, "Holograph?"

While Buffy said, "Trick of the light," at precisely the same moment.

Then Anya jumped into explain, "I didn’t just disappear. How could I? To do that I’d have to be a vengeance demon with the ability to teleport or something and of course I’m not because there isn’t really any such thing. You were mistaken. I, uh, climbed out the window really, really fast. There was no disappearing."

"That’s all very interesting, but now I’d like to know what really happened," Duncan insisted in a friendly tone, but with the faintest hint of steel beneath it.

Buffy, busily picking the now dry demon goo from her hair, sighed in resignation and said, "Fine then, if you really want to know."

"Yes, I really do," Duncan said.

"We needed a sword of Kali to kill a Kratha demon. Yours was the closest one with the least security. Anya used her vengeance demon powers to teleport in and grab it. Me and Dawn just killed the demon and were bringing the sword to Anya so she could teleport back with it," Buffy explained matter of factly as she continued to pick at her hair. "Is that what you wanted to know?" she added, grinning impishly.

Duncan silently contemplated the three girls for a few moments. "You should have stuck with the sorority scavenger hunt story," he said. Then he put the sword inside his trench coat and headed toward the door, saying, "I don’t know what you girls are up to, but I’d suggest you think up a better cover story or better yet stop ‘borrowing’ other people’s property."

"We’ll do that," Buffy agreed cheerily, happy that he was finally leaving. Then she stepped to one side so that he could get to the door.

Duncan stepped between the two sisters on the way out. He reached the door, opened it halfway then paused to look back a Dawn for a moment. Then, he left the shop.

"What do you think that was about?" Dawn asked.

"What was what about?" replied Buffy.

"The way he looked at me right before he left. Why did he look at me? He didn’t look at you or Anya," Dawn answered.

"What kind of look was it? It wasn’t one of those ‘I know you’re the key stares’ was it?" Buffy asked concerned.

"I don’t think so. I mean he didn’t look like all those people who knew I wasn’t normal, but that could be because he isn’t crazy. All those other people looked crazy, because they were," Dawn said.

"Maybe he just thought you’re the weakest link," Anya suggested. "With shoplifters I always focus on the youngest. They’re usually the first to break."

"Yeah, that could be it. He seriously wasn’t buying the sorority scavenger hunt thing. I’ll keep an eye on him as long as he’s in town, just in case, but there’s no reason to think he knows anything he shouldn’t," said Buffy.

"Of course, he didn’t buy your story, it was really bad," Anya agreed.

"Hey, I didn’t see you jumping in to explain," Buffy complained.

"Uh, Buffy? Do you think it’s time to wash this stuff out of our hair yet?" Dawn interjected.

"Yeah, it’s dry enough. We should be getting home," Buffy agreed.

"Okay, Anya, I’ll see you tomorrow for inventory," said Dawn, taking the task of repaying Anya for stolen merchandise very seriously.

"Bye Anya," Buffy added.

"Goodbye," Anya waved them off as she headed back to the stock room.

* * * * * *

Back at the hotel...

Methos was knocking on Joe’s door. "It’s not locked." Joe called from inside the room.

Methos opened the door an ducked inside. "Have a minute?" he asked.

"Sure, what’s up?" Joe asked, as he was rummaging through his luggage, looking for something.

"It’s Duncan."

"What about Duncan?" Joe asked absently.

"Have you noticed anything strange about him lately?"

"Strange how?"

"Strange as in burying his head in the sand and denying reality. He has a tendency to be a little overly idealistic, but ignoring what’s right in front of him isn’t normal," Methos explained.

"What exactly is it that he’s ignoring?" asked Joe.

"Just anything and everything supernatural. This place is reputed to be the mouth of hell, Legolas senses enough evil to make him sick, a woman with the power to disappear swipes his sword in order to hunt demons, and he still thinks there’s nothing strange about this place. What’s more he shrugs off my trip to Middle-earth as insignificant and dismisses Legolas as a regular guy who happens to have pointy ears," Methos presented his case, pacing back and forth in front of the door and punctuating each point with an emphatic hand gesture. "Joe, he’s being completely unreasonable," Methos concluded stopping right in front of Joe.

"It might not be reasonable but it’s certainly understandable," Joe argued.

"Understandable?"

"When you consider his recent experiences with the supernatural, first the dark quickening and then Ahriman, it’s easy to see why he wouldn’t want to believe anything weird was going on."

"But, it is! And, what he wants to believe won’t change that any. His stubborn disbelief is going to get him into trouble," Methos said, anxiously running a hand through his still long locks.

"I agree, but what can we do about it? He’s going to believe what he wants to until he’s forced to believe something different," Joe said fatalistically.

"Then that’s what we need to do, force him to see the truth."

"How do we do that?" Joe asked skeptically.

"We sit him down and have a honest discussion of what is and what isn’t going on," Methos suggested.

"You think we should hold a supernatural intervention for Mac’s benefit?" Joe asked, chuckling at the idea.

"What’s so funny about that? Do you have any better ideas?" Methos asked indignantly.

"You have to admit it borders on the absurd. And the idea of you leading it, the last man to be convinced something out of the ordinary was going on last year," Joe explained shaking his head slightly at the absurdity of the suggestion.

"Okay, so I was skeptical about demons? So what? Now I know the truth and Mac should too, better than anyone. But, he’s ignoring all of the evidence and someone has to do something before he gets himself into trouble," Methos insisted.

"Alright, I admit you have a point. We’ll corner him at dinner and see if we can talk some sense into him," Joe agreed. "Ah, there it is. I knew I packed one," Joe added, talking to himself.

"Huh?" Methos asked, confused by that last remark.

"My razor fell out of my shaving kit. I just found it."

"Oh."

* * * * * *

Sipping an espresso at the coffee shop two doors down from the Magic Box, Duncan contemplated what he’d just found out. ‘I wonder what those girls are up to. They couldn’t honestly believe that story about demons, even if it sounded a lot more sincere than the other one. Or at least I hope for their sakes that they don’t.

‘And, what was that stuff the short blond, what was her name... something like you’d name a cat? Muffin or Puff Ball? Buffy? That was it. What was Buffy picking out of her hair? Paint or glue maybe?

‘Then there was Anya. She was more than a little strange. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite so... abrupt or... literal. I could believe she’s unstable enough to believe she’s fighting demons. And, if she has some psychic abilities, that would lend a certain amount of credence to her delusions. Maybe demon fighting is her delusion and she used her abilities to suck Buffy and Dawn into her fantasy?

‘Or, perhaps Buffy and Dawn know perfectly well that it is a delusion and just go along with it for Anya’s sake. They could take the sword and then smear themselves with a little paint as evidence of their ‘heroic’ battle and return the sword all to humor their friend. That could be it. Buffy and Dawn seemed a little nervous, but they appeared sane enough. Of course that’s probably just wishful thinking on my part. It’ll be a lot easier on me if they have a good grasp on reality, but what if they don’t?

‘If Buffy and Dawn are delusional, then what do I do? Dawn is almost definitely going to be an Immortal one day, and that’s hard enough without mental instability to contend with. What if they aren’t so much unstable as highly impressionable? Maybe with a change of environment, things will sort themselves out? But, how on earth would I manage that?

‘You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you MacLeod?’ Duncan thought shaking his head slightly and grinning a little at his own thoughts. ‘Who knows what those girls actually think? There’s a good chance that it was just a story they used to get rid of me. Buffy sounded like she believed it, but I don’t know her. I don’t know how good a liar she is. Actually, come to think of it, the story about demons isn’t such a bad idea. If I went to the police saying that a group of teenage girls admitted to stealing my sword so they could hunt demons, I’d be locked in a padded cell.’

Duncan finished his coffee and left some money on the table just as the sun was starting to set. He left the coffee shop intending to meet his friends back at the hotel for dinner, but then he spotted Buffy and Dawn across the street, heading in the opposite direction. His friends wouldn’t be expecting him back for a little while yet, so he decided to follow the girls in order to see what he could find out.

Keeping just out of sight, Duncan strained to hear the girl’s conversation. "Did we have to stop now? Couldn’t it have waited till after we’d showered?" Dawn whined.

"Fifty percent off really cute boots!" Buffy said holding up a shopping bag. "No, of course it couldn’t wait!"

"Great, you’ll have cute shoes to wear to my social life’s funeral," Dawn complained.

"Social life’s funeral? Isn’t that a little much?" Buffy asked.

"If running into Karen Thomas while I’m covered in smelly goo didn’t kill my social life, it at least put it on the critical list!" Dawn insisted.

"So you’re a little smelly? It’s not the end of the world," Buffy said with a shrug.

"Well, not literal end of the world, end of the world. But, it is teenage, I’m starting high school soon and Karen is the most popular girl in school, end of the world. You do remember high school, don’t you?"

"Oh yeah, high school. Sorry. Maybe by the time school starts she’ll have forgotten," Buffy suggested optimistically.

"And if she doesn’t?"

"If she doesn’t, you’ll live. A lot worse things are bound to happen."

"Buffy!" Dawn squeaked. "That is so not helping!"

Duncan smiled to himself, somewhat reassured by this interchange. Buffy and Dawn were sounding a lot more normal.

"It’s getting dark," Buffy observed.

"It has a tendency to do that this time a day. That’s why they call it sunset," Dawn replied.

"Ha ha, very funny," Buffy said dryly. "What I meant was, it’s getting dark, maybe we shouldn’t take the short cut through the cemetery."

"Why not? Don’t you want to get home and shower? Or is this stuff really starting to grow on you?" Dawn asked.

"Of course I want to shower. I’m just wondering if the short cut is going to turn into a long cut where we get stuck in the evening breakfast traffic," Buffy explained.

‘Evening breakfast traffic? What? And through a cemetery?’ Duncan wondered to himself.

"Oh, I didn’t think of that," Dawn said. Then she added, "Let’s chance it. I don’t want to walk all the way around if I don’t have to."

"I’m game if you are, but remember everything I told you," Buffy admonished as she turned down the path to the cemetery.

"I remember. They’re stronger. They’re faster. I have to be smarter," Dawn recited.

"Right."

"Uhmm... Buffy? What if they’re smarter too?" Dawn asked, the possibility just occuring to her.

"That’s where the running comes in."

"Oh," said Dawn. "But how do I know if they’re smarter or not, before it’s too late."

"You don’t, which is why I stressed the running part. Especially, if I’m not here," Buffy said.

"Come on Buffy, you know I can do better than run away," Dawn wheedled.

"Yes, you can. You’re smart, resourceful, and you’ve got the Summer’s spirit, but you’ve still got to be careful not to take on more than you can handle," Buffy said, very seriously.

"Alright, alright, I’ve got it already. I’ll be careful," Dawn said rolling her eyes at Buffy’s hundred and eleventh warning to be careful.

"That’s all I ask."

"So, you really think I’ve got the Summer’s spirit?" Dawn asked.

"Yeah, you’re just like Mom. Did you know she hit Spike with an axe once?" Buffy asked with a slightly melancholy grin. The thought of Joyce hitting Spike with an axe always brought a smile to her face, but thinking of her mother still made her a little sad.

"Mom hit Spike with an axe?! When did she do that? I always thought Mom liked Spike?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago. Back before Spike was chipped, when I was still dating Angel. It was that time ‘PCP freaks’ attacked parent teacher night," Buffy explained.

‘Their mother hit someone with an axe? Maybe that’s where the delusions come from. The woman did name her child Buffy,’ Duncan speculated. ‘And, what’s this about PCP freaks and guys with names like Angel and Spike? The more I find out about these two, the stranger...’ Just then three vampires stepped on to the path, just in front of Buffy and Dawn. Their glowing eyes and deformed faces stopped Duncan in his tracks. He just couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

"Look what we have here," the lead vampire said, "meals on wheels."

"Hello, walking," Dawn pointed out, motioning toward her feet.

"She’s right. That didn’t make any sense," Buffy agreed. "You’ll have to do better than that."

"How ‘bout I just kill you," the vampire continued with an overdone maniacal laugh, his two cronies joining in a beat later.

"I don’t think he has any idea who I am," Buffy observed to Dawn.

"Looks like," Dawn agreed.

"I know exactly who you are. You’re breakfast and it looks like I’m going to kill you," the vampire insisted.

"Dawn, you got your stake?" Buffy asked.

"Yep," Dawn said pulling a stake from her sleave.

"And, I’ve got mine," Buffy added pulling mister pointy from her waist band. "Now, mister scary vampire are you going to attack us already? Or are you going to just stand there making oh so witty comments?" she asked sarcastically.

On seeing the vampire’s faces, Duncan’s first impulse was to rush to the rescue. When the girls didn’t look particularly concerned and the exchange of inane witticisms began he decided to hang back and see what happened. This seemed to be more of a farce than a life and death situation.

Provoked beyond bearing by Buffy making fun of him, the leader ran at Buffy. Buffy calmly stepped to one side and staked him. "Now who’s next?" Buffy asked as the first vampire’s corpse turned to dust. The remaining two vampires both attacked.

Buffy was easily holding both of the vampires off, waiting for an opening to kill one without giving the other an opening to attack her. Duncan was leaning against a tombstone trying to make sense of what he was seeing. One small girl who shouldn’t be nearly as strong as she was, a fanged creature with glowing eyes that turned to dust after a wooden stake to the heart, as much as he didn’t want to believe it, he couldn’t deny what was right in front of him. Buffy Summers was killing vampires, and she was doing it in a way that clearly showed that this wasn’t anything new for her.

Once Duncan admitted the truth to himself, he was torn. On one hand, his first instinct was to help. His code of chivalry didn’t allow him to sit back and watch while a petite woman fought the forces of darkness. On the other hand, she seemed to have the situation well in hand and if he were perfectly honest, he’d have to admit that he’d be more likely to get in the way than to help. While Duncan was debating what to do, the situation resolved itself.

Dawn snuck up behind one of the vampires fighting Buffy and staked him from behind. Buffy, now free to concentrate on the last vampire, dispatched him very swiftly. "Thanks Dawn, that was good thinking," Buffy said.

"It was, wasn’t it," Dawn agreed.

"You know, you really have to work on these self esteem issues of yours," Buffy said, brushing vampire dust off her sweats.

Then the sound of clapping came from beside a nearby crypt. "Very well done, but I doubt you’ll fare so well with me and my friends, Slayer," said a blond vampire as he stepped out of the shadows. He died fairly young and was now affecting the Musketeer look, pairing a ruffled shirt with the standard leather pants.

"Great, Lestat redux," Buffy said affecting a little yawn. "Could we just skip the pre-game chitchat and get right to the fighting? I’d like to get home sometime tonight."

"As you wish," the vampire said then he clapped his hand twice more and his friends stepped into view.

"Buffy?" Dawn said nervously. "Would this be a good time to run?" she asked counting twelve vampires in addition to the musketeer wannabe.

"Thirteen vamps, two of us, yeah this would be a good time, except for one thing," said Buffy turning her back to her sister, in order to face the vampires encircling them.

"What’s that?" Dawn asked, clutching her stake and standing back to back with Buffy, ready for battle.

"They’re still faster than us. If we run, they’ll follow," Buffy said grimly.

"Right," Dawn said with a nod. "We’ll just have to take care of them here," Dawn said, summoning her determination.

"That ‘a girl," Buffy said with a wicked grin. "Don’t worry Dawn. We’re about to kick some major vamp ass." Just as Buffy finished her quasi-pep talk the vampires managed to summon up their courage enough to launch the first attack. No matter what their fearless leader said, attacking the Slayer was a scary thing to do.

Buffy staked one right off. Seeing their compatriot turn to dust caused four of them to run away without putting up any fight. Some of the ones who remained hesitated for a minute as well, so the first attack came from a very manageable three vamps. Buffy took on two and Dawn kept ducking the third one.

Seeing the two girls attacked by eight vampires made Duncan’s mind up for him. At this point he waded into the battle. Buffy kicked one of the vampires attacking her in the head, stunning it long enough for her to stake it. A second vamp followed closely after the first, he’d paused a moment too long watching the first vamp turn to dust. Dawn was still dodging the first vampire to attack her and was keeping an eye out for a way to stake him. Meanwhile, Duncan drew his katana and engaged three of the vampires who’d been hanging back at the edges, including the frilly shirted leader.

Dawn finally managed to stake her vampire. She did a little happy dance, checked to see if Buffy needed any help, saw that her sister was handling the two vamps attacking her just fine, and then she noticed Duncan struggling with the other three. Duncan wasn’t doing too bad. He had them on the defensive. He’d cut off the leader’s hand. Another had a broken knee. And, Duncan was in the midst of running the third one through. "They’re vampires. You have to decapitate them, or a stake through the heart," Dawn suggested helpfully.

"Thanks," Duncan said, pulling his sword free of the vamp and swiftly chopping off it’s head. Duncan jumped a little in surprise when the vampire turned to dust, but quickly recovered. He then dodged a clumsy attempt at revenge from the one handed leader, then decapitated him. Dawn staked the one with the broken knee while he was still lying on the ground clutching his leg in agony.

Suddenly noticing that they were the only ones left, the two facing Buffy decided to run away. Buffy, still covered in demon goo and really wanting a shower, decided not to chase them.

Buffy, Dawn, and Duncan now facing each other across a cemetery path cleared of vampires, fell into an awkward silence. Then Buffy began, "So Mr. MacLeod, what brings you to the cemetery this time of night? No, let me guess. Coincidence, or maybe you were lost?"

"I admit it; I was following you," Duncan replied unapologetically.

"And, why would you want to do that?" Buffy said giving him her most wide eyed innocent look.

"Come on, you have to admit that story about the demon sounded pretty fishy. I thought if I followed you I might find out the truth. How could I know that you really did borrow my sword to kill a demon? You did borrow it to kill a demon, didn’t you?" Duncan replied with a pose of innocence equal to Buffy’s.

"Yes, we did slay a demon. But, are you sure simple curiosity was the only reason you were following us? That there isn’t some evil plan in the works I should know about? I noticed that the sword you used on the vamps wasn’t the same one we just gave back to you. Do you normally carry around large bladed weapons?" Buffy asked, highly suspicious of Duncan’s motives.

"Buffy, Mr. MacLeod helped us, even after we borrowed his things without asking," Dawn admonished. "The least we can do is not accuse him of being evil, and we might even think about saying ‘thank you.’"

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, and I give you my word that I mean no harm to you or your sister," Duncan said solemnly.

"Hey, I didn’t say that I thought you weren’t evil. I just think we shouldn’t accuse you of it until we get some solid evidence," Dawn clarified.

At Duncan’s look of chagrin Buffy relented a little and told him, "Nothing personal. Growing up on a Hellmouth makes a girl suspicious of strangers, especially sword toting ones."

"Hellmouth?" Duncan asked.

"Yep, welcome to Sunnydale, home of vampires, werewolves, good and evil witches, demons, and other assorted strangeness, not to mention the highest per capita death rate of anywhere in the western world. Please drive safely, and do try to leave town before the next apocalypse approaches," Buffy said in her best tour guide manner. "We’d give you the guided tour, but Dawnie and me need to get home. It’s time to wash that demon right out of our hair. Now, I suggest you get inside where it’s safe, don’t invite anyone in, and then leave bright and early tomorrow." Then, grabbing Dawn’s arm, Buffy started to lead her sister down the path to their house.

"But..." Duncan started to protest to the retreating girls.

Buffy looked back over her shoulder and called, "Bye bye, Mr. MacLeod. Have a safe trip home," as she continued walking away. Dawn looked back once and gave Duncan a ‘don’t ask me, there’s nothing I can do’ shrug and then the two girls disappeared around a corner.

"Vampires, demons, and a Hellmouth... Now what do I do?" Duncan muttered to himself, then he turned back the other way and headed toward the hotel.


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