Title: You Forgot To Mention Hell, Horatio
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Status: Complete
Warnings: Nope. Not this time.
Category: Crossover with Highlander
Disclaimer: All other characters belong to their respective owners and are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.
This is what happens when you get involved with too many different fandoms.
Universe setting: For you Highlander fans, this story takes place sometime after ‘Archangel’ (sorry to all those Richie Forever people). Please forgive me for playing with the timelines of the shows, but hey, it’s fan-fic and I can do that ;-)
Thanks: As always, to Carrie, and to Marius, the oak and the ash to my birds in the forest.

It was almost two in the morning by the time Adam broke back into the Sunnydale High School library. The deadbolt that protected the door was simple to pick -- even for someone who hadn’t recently brushed up on his skills with the world’s oldest living thief. Taking one last look up and down the deserted hallway, Adam entered the cavernous room and locked the door behind himself.

‘Right,’ the Immortal thought silently, attempting to regain his bearings after all he’d seen that evening.

He was searching for the books on Immortals that had been delivered to the library earlier in the day, interested in finding out if there were any other lost Watcher texts among the contents. At least, that was the excuse he was telling himself.

If he cared to examine it on a deeper level, the ultimate truth was simply that Adam was satisfying his curiosity about the group he had encountered earlier.

Not surprisingly, he’d followed them after they all left the library, carefully keeping well out of the sensory range that Angel had established earlier. In his estimation, there was no need for the locals to be aware of his presence.

Using his binoculars, Adam watched as they took on a large pack of vampires in the very same park he’d rescued Angel and Willow in earlier. From his vantage point, the Immortal could see that the fight was intense. Outnumbered more than two to one, the group from Sunnydale emerged victorious, albeit bruised and battered.

As a well trained outsider, Adam was surprised by their lack of actual combat skills. With the exception of the vampire and, to a lesser degree, the librarian, it appeared that the students had yet to receive much in the way of formal hand-to-hand training. If all their fights were like the one he watched that evening, Adam was surprised that they were still alive and kicking.

Until he realized just what made them so effective.

Even from a distance, he could sense the absolute cohesion among them as they fought for their common goal. As if of one mind, they not only battled their individual opponents, but were also instinctively aware of their companions. Time and again he witnessed one come to the aid of another when needed. It was a sense of cohesion that would have put even some of the most elite fighting units in history to shame. And, having been there, Adam would know.

They were certainly an odd little group -- unusual enough to intrigue even the most jaded of immortals. That being the case, Adam patiently followed the van back to the high school parking lot. Mr. Giles had returned to the library, most likely to drop off the nylon duffel bag of weapons he carried. After he drove away in an ancient Citroen, Adam waited twenty minutes before his successful attempt to pick the lock on the heavy wooden doors.

At first Adam simply wandered around the ground floor. There were a few shelves of books scattered around, but the titles were simply what one would expect to find in a typical high school library -- sets of encyclopedias, almanacs, and other references materials, books considered classic literature (though, at his age, Adam scoffed at the term), and the normal assortment of current periodicals. The placement of these items, the Immortal correctly guessed, was simply protective camouflage for the more ‘sensitive’ materials hidden deep within the lesser-visited stacks upstairs.

Rather than delve into the upper floor, Adam turned his eye towards the other unexplored areas of the room: the storage locker and the librarian’s office. The caged door was secured by a rather sound-looking lock, so the Immortal moved to the glass and wood door on his left.

To his surprise, the knob turned easily, granting him access to Giles’ private sanctuary. Given the ease of his entry, Adam bit back a sense of disappointment. It had been his considerable experience that someone as uptight as the librarian would never leave sensitive materials unprotected. Therefore, he doubted that he would find anything useful. Nevertheless, it was worth a look.

The desk held nothing of interest -- just the usual collection of pens and other office paraphernalia. Even the books on the shelves were ordinary enough. Along the back wall was one of those rolling door storage shelves, though. It took the Immortal about ten seconds with a paperclip to jimmy the flimsy lock.

“Voile” he muttered at the sight of the titles secreted within the cabinet. “Witchcraft, demonology, The Codex? Whatever that is...and what’s this?”

At the end of the middle shelf, there were eight newer-looking journals. Choosing one at random, the Immortal flipped open to the middle of the leather-bound book.

//24 March
I fear that the events of last night may be a harbinger of difficult times ahead for Buffy. It seems that the man she has regrettably taken such an interest in, Angel, revealed himself to be a vampire. She is, expectedly, utterly devastated by this turn of events -- both as a young woman with a crush, and more importantly, as the Chosen Slayer.

Once again, I find myself at a loss as to how I should react. As her Watcher...//

‘Watcher!?! Slayer?’ Adam pondered, remembering that her named had been mentioned earlier in the evening. ‘Who *is* this girl? Is she an Immortal? Why does she have a Watcher? And why didn’t I come across her name when I checked for other Immortals in the area of Sunnydale?’ Hoping to find some kind of explanation, Adam turned back to an earlier page.

//26 February
The Hellmouth has offered some variety this week in the form of a She-mantis taking on the guise of a substitute teacher...//

‘Really,’ Adam thought. ‘Now this should be interesting.’

Pulling down the preceding journal off the shelf, the Immortal sat down to read at the librarian’s desk. Making himself as comfortable as he could get in the unforgiving office chair, Adam started reading from the beginning of the first book. After a moment, he absent-mindedly reached behind himself and withdrew the long dagger from its sheath in his belt. He absently toyed with the knife, digging the point of the blade into the desk blotter while spinning the handle, keeping the weapon ready for any unannounced intruders.

After all, he hadn’t survived for so long by being careless, especially in a town as bizarre as this one.

The journals were an invaluable source of information to Adam, although he had a difficult time regarding them as fact rather than the latest John Carpenter movie. Slayers, Watchers, vampires, witches and, remarkably enough, a werewolf thrown in for good measure. It was unbelievable.

Adam tore through the first three volumes at a break-neck pace. At one point the librarian wrote that he suspected at least one of the students of ‘borrowing’ his journals without consent, so he began recording his entries in Latin. Eventually, that, too, changed as Willow became more fluent in the dead language. Giles then switched to an older Germanic derivative for his more private thoughts. Fortunately for the Immortal, this particular version was somewhat familiar, as it had been used when Adam studied medicine at Heidleburg centuries ago. Still, it required a great deal of concentration to translate such technical terms.

So lost was Adam in what he was reading, he practically jumped out of his chair when the sound of an unexpected growl came from just over his shoulder. Surprised beyond measure, the Immortal clumsily fumbled the knife, mistakenly grabbing the blade instead of the ornate metal handle. A hiss of pain escaped his lips as his fingers slipped down the razor-sharp edge of the blade. Ignoring the icy-hot agony of the cut, Adam held the knife at the ready as he whirled around and came face to face with Angel.

The vampire’s face was contorted in pain as a result of his stealthy approach. Only when Adam’s eyes met Angel’s did the vampire’s features begin to relax as the intensity of the buzz abated.

“Christ,” Adam swore as he pulled a wad of tissues from the box on Giles’ desk. The flimsy pseudo-paper did little to staunch the blood pouring from the deep cut to his fingers. “Don’t *do* that! I may be Immortal, but I can still have a bloody heart attack!” The quip, however, was lost on Angel.

“Wanted...to see...if...I could.” The vampire’s speech was broken by the tremors racing through his body. Even his shoulders slumped forward from the sheer exertion it had required to get as close to Adam as he had.

“Are all vampires as masochistic as you, or are you the exception to the rule?”

“Huh?” Angel replied absently, trying his best to focus beyond the lingering discomfort he was experiencing.

“You seem to have a high threshold for pain,” Adam rephrased the question. “Is that normal for vampires?”

“Guess I’m stronger than some,” Angel retorted cryptically.

“From the look on your face, getting that near to me must have hurt like hell.”

“Not even close,” Angel mumbled.

“Beg your pardon?” the Immortal queried.

“I’ve been to Hell. Believe me, this is nothing in comparison.”

At first the Immortal thought the vampire was either joking or speaking metaphorically, but then he looked carefully at the other man, peering deeply into the tormented brown eyes. There was something there...something disturbing. It was a haunted expression, one that Adam had seen on too many terrified faces in his long life...one he had caused too many times.

“You...you’re serious...aren’t you?” Adam asked shakily.

Spying Giles’ diary open on the desk, Angel couldn’t prevent the self-depreciating smirk that appeared on his face any more than he could stop the quip that escaped his lips.

“I guess you haven’t gotten to the good parts yet.”

“Actually, I’m still not completely convinced that this,” Adam gestured to the journal, “isn’t the librarian’s attempt at becoming the next Stephen King. Well, either that, or I took some LSD I don’t remember.”

But Angel missed Adam’s sarcasm. The vampire’s attention was focused solely on the tiny blue bands of energy randomly weaving through the nasty cuts on the Immortal’s fingers. Within seconds, the gash that would have required at least two dozen stitches on a normal human was completely healed.

Awestruck, Angel blindly reached out, intent upon having a closer examination. At the last moment, he froze, as if suddenly realizing what he was about to do. Brown eyes flew up to meet amused hazel. Smirking at the unspoken question on the vampire’s face, Adam couldn’t resist the soft, breathy snort of laughter that escaped him.

“Go ahead,” he offered as he held up his hand to the vampire. It was obvious that he was offering much more than a simple visual inspection.

“No...I...I...,” Angel stuttered.

“Oh,” Adam exclaimed, recalling something he’d read earlier in the Watcher’s journal. “That’s right -- you don’t drink human blood anymore, do you? Well, you can assuage your conscience. I’m not exactly a ‘normal’ person now, am I?”

The Immortal waited, patiently watching the battle waging behind the vampire’s eyes. He had to admit that he was curious himself. Would his blood taste differently than a regular mortal’s? After all, no one knew for certain what it was that made Immortals what they were.

As long moments passed, Adam’s patience began to wear thin. Using what he knew of vampire lore, the Immortal took a chance. Before Angel could protest, Adam brought the knife back to the flat of his own hand and sliced open his palm.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Angel cried out.

“Don’t worry, it will heal,” the Immortal sniped, waiting to see if his gambit would work.

It didn’t take long for the method in his madness to reveal itself. When the heavy, coppery scent of fresh blood wafted through the air, Adam bit back a smile as Angel’s nose twitched. It was like waving a bottle of whisky under the nose of an alcoholic, the Immortal reckoned. Despicable, he knew, but Adam hadn’t allowed himself to feel guilt in centuries, and he wasn’t about to change that now.

“I...I...” Angel hesitated.

“Come now,” Adam tempted. When he realized that his words were having no effect, he ran a finger from his other hand through the thick layer of blood welling up in his palm. Gathering a heavy, dripping load of the red liquid, Adam raised the finger up to Angel’s mouth.

The vampire, however, remained unpersuaded, even as a long, lazy drop of the coppery substance ran down the length of the extended digit.

Adam felt the familiar tingling that signaled the healing of his cut palm and knew that he needed to act. A catty smile appeared on Immortal’s lips as he slowly traced the edge of the vampire’s cool bottom lip, leaving a glistening trail of moisture in its path like some kind of satanic lipstick.

Finally, the temptation proved to be too much for Angel. Without meaning to, his tongue instinctively snaked out to lick at the still-warm fluid.

A heavy silence filled the room as time itself seemed to grind to a sudden halt. Angel had a deep expression on his face, one that reminded Adam of a wine taster experimenting with an unknown vintage. Was there something odd about Immortal blood, he wondered? Would it taste differently to the sensitive palate of a vampire? Would it harm Angel? Adam had wondered about that fact when the idea first came to him minutes earlier, but surely Angel would have experienced *some* kind of adverse reaction by now. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Well?” Adam queried his patience at an end. And yet, Angel did little more than cast a quick glance in the Immortal’s direction before once again focusing on the taste in his mouth.

“Well, what?”

“How does it taste?” Adam elucidated.

“It’s a little different, but it’s still blood,” Angel answered coyly, obviously toying with the impatient Immortal.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? The vampire version of ‘tastes like chicken?’” Adam questioned testily, his annoyance flashing hotly in his mercurial hazel eyes.

“It’s richer than a human’s,” Angel explained, sensing that the time for teasing had come to a close. Yet, he couldn’t resist one last barb. “It tastes...old…” he paused for effect, enjoying the insulted expression on the Immortal’s face before going on with his comment. “… better aged -- like Napoleon Brandy compared to a bottle of ripple.”

“You got all that from such a little taste? Not bad.” The wound on Adam’s hand had completely healed by that point, but his palm was still coated with blood. The Immortal sighed deeply as he weighed his options. Angel was still eyeing Adam’s dripping hand. ‘Oh well, might as well not let it go to waste,’ Adam thought to himself. Besides, a little olive branch between the two of them might not be a bad idea. Adam still needed Willow’s help, and he had a feeling that the redhead would tend to lean towards the vampire’s judgement.

Decision made, he once again coated his finger in the remaining blood of the now-healed palm wound. This time, the vampire leaned forward eagerly to accept the outstretched offering. Once the second taste of the rich, copper-heavy flavour hit Angel’s taste buds, a deep pleasure-filled growl rumbled through his chest.

As the sound echoed in the stillness of the cavernous room, Adam was startled when Angel stealthily grabbed the Immortal’s wrist in a vise-like grip. For the duration of a single heartbeat, Adam was afraid that he had pushed the vampire too far. It was enough to cause an adrenaline surge, considering that this...thing had the knowledge to permanently end his life.

But it soon became clear that Angel wasn’t interested in killing the Immortal at that particular moment in time.

Instead, the vampire drew the blood-covered palm up to his mouth. Like a child with an ice cream cone, he placed a long, sweeping lick against the dampened flesh. Those deep, brown eyes closed sensuously even as Angel released the other man’s arm.

“Ah, the joys of forbidden fruit,” Adam quipped, hoping that the humour would help to dispel the intensity of what they’d just experienced. Instead of the desired effect Adam had been hoping for, the words made Angel flinch in reaction. Seeing the vampire’s angst-filled expression reminded him more than a little of MacLeod. ‘Oh great. Another guilt-ridden, broody one. Just what I need,’ Adam silently bemoaned. He would never understand them.

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” the Immortal asked.

“Of course it does,” Angel glared indignantly as his head shot upwards.

“Why?” The question was meant sincerely. “Is it because it’s blood, or is it because it reminds you of what you really are?”

“What difference does it make?” the vampire answered hotly, angered that a stranger would dare to pose such an indelicate question.

“My point exactly,” Adam said slyly. Seeing that Angel was not following his logic, the Immortal continued. “You *are* a vampire. For you, drinking blood is no different than a mortal eating meat, or lettuce for that matter. Food is food.”

“Don’t you get it?” Angel snarled. “For me to keep on existing, I have to drink something’s *blood*.”

“So? According to these journals, you don’t hunt humans anymore. You get your blood from the butcher shop, right?”

“It’s still blood!” the vampire cried, clearly agitated by the current topic. “Every time I feed, something dies...”

“A vegan vampire, how ironic.”

“...I’m a killer,” Angel continued, ignoring the Immortal’s stray comment.

“Well, join the club,” Adam remarked, his dry comment stopping the vampire’s words in mid-stream. Angel was clearly considering the veracity of the Immortal’s words.

Deciding that it would be better to drop this landmine-loaded track of conversation, Adam swiftly changed the subject.

“Shouldn’t you be going? It’s almost dawn,” he said, sparing a glance at the dim light beginning to pour through the skylight in the library’s ceiling.

“I’ll be fine,” Angel insisted.

“But...sunlight...” Adam began, wondering if the old legends were really true.

“...is definitely on my list of things to avoid,” Angel finished for the uncertain Immortal. “There are enough recesses in here for me to keep out of the direct light.”

“So, no ‘death sleep’ or anything like that?”

“Really,” Angel said as he rolled his eyes, “a big Anne Rice fan, are you?” Hearing Adam’s airy snort of guilty laughter, the vampire continued. “Do you go to bed as soon as the sun sets? It’s not all that different for us.”

It made sense to Adam. So did Angel’s reason for staying: he didn’t want to leave the Immortal in the library unchaperoned. It was a fact that brought another question to Adam’s mind.

“Do you often come to the library to hang around alone in the middle of the night?”

“I knew you would be here,” Angel answered simply. Seeing the look of disbelief on the Immortal’s face, the vampire filled in the blanks. “It’s where I would be if I wanted to know more about the people that I followed around all night.”

Schooling his expression to perfect blankness, Adam neither confirmed nor denied Angel’s accusation. Still, the Immortal was puzzled. He thought he had been exceedingly careful to stay far enough away so as not to alert Angel of his presence. Whatever. At any rate, he would have to be more careful in the future.

“So here I am, the Immortal in the library with the books. Are you going to report me to the librarian, Colonel Mustard?”

“Not exactly.”

“And what exactly brought about this little change of heart?” Adam asked suspiciously.

“Look, I don’t know you, and from what I’ve seen of your kind, I’m not exactly inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt, either. You so much as hurt any of those kids’ feelings and I won’t need a sword to rip your head off,” Angel insisted, emphasizing his words with a menacing growl. “But you did save Willow’s life tonight, so I guess you’re entitled to a little leeway...a very little leeway,” the vampire added.

“Ah, she came down hard on you, did she?” Adam chuckled knowingly, almost laughing outright when Angel stiffened visibly at being found out.

“Cordelia said something about a...Pamprin? Whatever that is,” the vampire all-but-mumbled before going on in a louder tone of voice. “Besides, Willow said that you were a expert at languages or something.”

“Oh? And that would matter because...” he prompted.

“I have a book of prophecies here,” Angel explained, pulling the aforementioned volume out of the pocket of his leather duster. “You don’t happen to read ancient Greek, do you?”

“Like a native,” Adam bit back a smile at his little private joke while Angel pulled a chair over to the desk and sat.

“Good, because I think this particular passage mentions the Legion...”




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