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.

“Whatcha got, G-man?” Xander questioned.

Rolling his eyes, Giles uttered his standard protest to the detested nickname. “How many time do I have to ask you...”

“Giles! The information?” Willow interrupted smoothly.

“What? Oh, yes, right. I’ve found an entry in Ropare’s Encyclopedia of Demons and Evil Spirits. It’s in the section...”

“Giles,” Xander was rolling his hand, hoping the librarian would take the not-so-subtle hint. “Can we skip the footnotes and go straight to the Reader’s Digest version?”

Sparing a glare for the impatient teenager, the Watcher began reading from the entry. Willow’s hands were not idle, typing verbatim what Giles read aloud.

“Ahriman. A bringer of chaos who is given a chance at freedom once every millennia. In order to escape imprisonment, Ahriman must defeat the Champion, an immortal chosen for the qualities of strength, loyalty, and courage.”

“That’s it?” The question came from Willow, who was distressed that she couldn’t offer the anonymous person on the other end of the modem more information.

“Well, there is an illustration. Unfortunately, however, the writing in the picture is a language that is unfamiliar to me.”

“May I look at that?” Angel was up and crossing the room before Giles had an opportunity to close the thick, dusty tome. It was all the Watcher could do to keep from flinching as the vampire entered his personal space. His obvious distaste at their close proximity was not lost on any of them, least of all Angel. Not that the bi-centurian blamed the librarian. Knowing how Angelus took such delight in torturing the Watcher for hours upon end, made Angel just as awkward as Giles undoubtedly was.

Setting personal discomfort aside, Angel studied the open page before him; but, like Giles, was unable to recognize the strange markings. Realizing that three other people in the room were awaiting his conclusion, Angel shook his head in the negative.

With nothing further to add, Willow typed a brief message. Short seconds later, the reply prompted her to reach over and turn on the portable scanner.

“Can I see that for sec?” she inquired politely.

Curious as to what she intended, Angel brought the weathered book over personally. Like a child watching a magic trick, the vampire stared in fascination as the digital reproduction appeared shortly after Willow moved the hand-held device over the pages. She talked as she worked, explaining and describing the entire process, including how the picture would first be saved, then transmitted via e-mail to the person known only as ‘Rogue.’

In truth, Willow’s impromptu lesson over the intricate workings of the scanner was more nervous prattle than actual teaching. Less than a year ago, the she’d been enlisted to scan the contents of several Slayer-related books onto the computer. Nobody, however, could have foreseen that one of the books would actually be the prison of a very powerful demon; nor could they have known that scanning the book would be enough to release the evil thing confined there. The creature had escaped into the computer, and proceeded to start an on-line relationship with Willow. Whenever she recalled the event, Willow couldn’t be sure which emotion was more powerful: the creepiness of it, or her overwhelming embarrassment over the situation as a whole.

Whatever the reason, talking to Angel seemed to help keep her calm, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the vampire. Carefully adjusting the book so he could hold it steady with a single hand, Angel used his newly-freed hand to give one of Willow’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. His thoughtful action was quickly rewarded by one of the red-head’s genuine smiles.

The moment was broken, however, when Xander spoke. “Waitasec. Did that book say something about an *immortal* champion?”

Mentally reviewing the passage, Giles nodded affirmatively. “I believe so.”

“Sooo...what exactly does that mean? Is this ‘champion’ a vampire or something?”

Stunned by Xander’s unusually intelligent question, the librarian pondered the possibilities.

“Perhaps.” Giles began slowly. “But we should also take into consideration that there are many types of immortal beings. Demons, various creatures of darkness...”

“Immortal.” Angel almost whispered the word to himself as he tried to recall why that word was raising a red flag in his memory.

“...any number of sages. Then there are the Hecate worshippers who claim to live for extended numbers of years, and Immortals themselves.”

“Immortals themselves? I thought that’s what we were talking about here.” Xander’s brows were knitted in confusion.

“And that we are. There are several substantiated legends about a race of beings known simply as ‘Immortals.’ It has long been believed that these Immortals look and act very human, and therefore, live among us. Actually, it’s quite fascinating when you consider it. Imagine living through century after century, watching mankind learn and grow.”

“Wait,” Angel interrupted. “Are you talking about those butchers that go around cutting each other’s heads off?”

“Ah, yes, well, there is that to consider.” Giles frowned.

“Cutting off each other’s heads? What’s this?” Xander questioned.

“Most of the legends about Immortals do make mention of that fact. It would seem that whenever they run across each other, it’s there custom to fight each other to the death. I don’t recall a great deal about the specifics, but I do remember the Watcher Council being somewhat... concerned by the recent increases in the number of mysterious beheadings on a world-wide scale.”

“But if they’re immortal, then how can they fight to the death?” This question came from Willow, who was waiting for her e-mail to Rogue to finish sending.

“Apparently, the term ‘immortal’ is something of a misnomer...”

“They can be killed.” Angel replied flatly.

“And you know this because...” Xander asked.

“I’ve come across them before.”

“Now how did I know you were going to say that.” Xander retorted as his eyes rolled.

“They’re strong, cunning, and dangerous. Oh, and powerful, too.”

“How so?” Giles questioned, his curiosity peaked by hearing a first-hand account of yet another supernatural phenomena.

“Well, for one thing, they can repell vampires.”

“’Repell?’ How is that possible?” The librarian was fascinated by this tidbit of information. His mind was already considering what an asset such knowledge would be to a slayer.

“I don’t know for sure. All I know is that back around the 1860’s, I accidentally came across a couple of them fighting...” The vampire paused for a moment, hoping that they would all pick up on his silent queue that he had been Angelus back then, not the soul-bearing Angel. Still, it was difficult for him to continue, knowing that any mention of his more sinister persona would stir up recent memories that they all wanted to forget. “I saw them from a distance and I...wanted the winner. After the fight was over, I started to move in towards the one left standing, but before I could get near enough, I felt this...pain in my head. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Of course, that only made me more determined to...; so I forced myself to keep moving closer. Then all of sudden out of nowhere, there was this huge...lightning storm. It was so powerful it started fires all around the woods; hell, it even knocked over trees in the surrounding area.”

“A spell? Or some kind of witchcraft, maybe?” Willow wondered aloud.

“Perhaps.” Giles allowed.

“Something that’s powerful enough to send vampires running for the Extra Strength Excedrin. Not good.” Xander observed. “And there are a lot of these Immortal guys out there?”

“I wouldn’t begin to estimate their number; but, if the legends are true, they could be anywhere, living like any normal, ordinary person.”

“Oh great, isn’t that just comforting? Knowing our luck, this guy the Willster is talking to is probably one of these Lizzie Borden types.”

Out of the mouths of innocents... Xander’s casual comment struck home in both the watcher and the vampire. As if of one mind, they both slowly turned until their eyes met and fear-filled expressions overwhelms their facial features.

“Willow, you said that you couldn’t track this guy, right?” Angel asked cautiously.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m pretty sure if I had more time, though...”

“If you could find out who and where this person was...” Giles began.

“...then can he do the same things to find you?” Angel finished.

A sickly white color emerged as all the blood drained away from the girl’s face. Realization came at Willow in a rush. When she sat down behind the computer almost an hour earlier, it had been with the sole intention of checking her e-mail; something that did not require the precautions she normally took when undertaking any of her hacking jobs. That she was using a school terminal provided a certain level of anonymity; she hadn’t, however, taken a single measure to disguise her location, though.

“Oh God!” she squeaked as she reached for the mouse in a state of blind panic. Without so much as signing off, she exited first from the chat room, and then from the rest of the computer.

Only when everything was completely turned off did the four non-lupine beings in the library allow themselves to relax slightly. Nevertheless, an undeniable air of tension had settled over the room. Uncertain of how to proceed, they all remained motionless, quietly assessing the potential amount of trouble that could be headed their way.

After an indeterminate time, Angel’s voice broke the silence. “Willow, worst case scenario. How likely is it that whomever you were talking to would be able to track you down?”

“Uhmm...realistically?” Seeing the varying looks of disbelief thrown her way, the red head quickly finished her answer. “Well, I guess Rogue would have to have enough computer knowledge to be able to read the address numbers, and even then they’d only get the library’s number. This is a public terminal, so anybody can use it.”

“So basically, we just need to keep an eye out for any Lancelot wannabes wandering up and down the school hallways with long, sharp, pointy metal objects.”

As was his habit, Giles ignored Xander’s poor attempt at levity. “I think it would behoove all of us to take measures of precaution until we can be relatively certain that there is no danger.”

“Wait a minute. Time out here.” Willow’s voice was sharp, catching the attention of all the assembled men. “Don’t you think we might all just be...overreacting a teensy bit here? I mean...we’re all just kinda...assuming... that Rogue is an Immortal. I mean, I talk in these kind of chats all the time, and a lot of the people there just think it’s ‘cool’ to hang out in the witchcraft and demon type rooms.”

“Hey guys! What’s the haps?” A new voice interjected.

Cordelia swept into the library still dressed to the nines from dinner at the country club. Happy to have a reason to exit the conversation, Xander moved across the library to greet his unlikely girlfriend. Willow gave the couple a few moments of privacy to share a kiss before walking over to join them.

Realizing that the teenagers had effectively tabled any further discussion on the matter, the two ‘adults’ in the room shared a concerned glance. Sure it was possible that the whole matter had been settled the minute Willow exited the chat room; but both the vampire and the watcher had gut feelings that this probably wouldn’t be the case.

After all, nothing on the Hellmouth was that simple.

Seacouver, WA

Busy looking over the .JPEG picture he had received via e-mail, Adam Pierson missed ‘Sabrina’s’ abrupt departure from the chat room. One minute she was there, and the next she was gone; vanished into the anonymous expanse of cyberspace.

“NO!” he shouted in the empty apartment as he scrolled back through the transcript of the chat session. In a rare show of temper, Adam slammed his hands down on either side of his keyboard.

‘NO!NO!NO!’

It had been two months. Two months since Duncan MacLeod, fearing for his sanity had turned to Adam for help. The Scot had claimed that a demon named Ahriman was tormenting him. But Adam hadn’t believed.

Even when he stood by over the body of Richie Ryan, he hadn’t believed. But he should have.

Ryan was MacLeod’s student, for all intents and purposes, a surrogate son to the man known in Immortal circles as ‘the Highlander.’ The memory of MacLeod, confused and distraught as he realized that he had beheaded his own student was forever burned into Adam’s memory. So was the following moment, where the 400 year old Scot had offered up his own katana, begging Adam to take his head in atonement for killing Richie.

Adam had refused. He hadn’t believed.

MacLeod disappeared shortly after that, dropping out of sight without so much as a word. Adam had assisted another mutual friend, a mortal named Joe Dawson, in arranging Richie’s funeral. After the burial, Joe also started to become plagued by nightmares, both sleeping and waking. He, too, claimed that Arhiman was very real; and was behind the terror that he was experiencing. Even then, Adam hadn’t believed.

Until one day, Arhiman came to visit Adam’s dreams as well.

The nightmares were unholy: visions of past, present and future muddled together until he began losing sight of what was fiction and what was reality. The demon tempted him with everything imaginable: love, power, wealth, and the most tantalizing dream of all for any Immortal -- winning the Game and becoming the One. And in return for such a great reward, the only thing Ahriman wanted him to do was nothing.

Temptation, indeed.

There was a time in the not-so-distant past that the man now known as Adam Pierson would have jumped at the chance of winning the Game. Despite his overwhelming desire to keep surviving, Adam knew good and well that he had neither the skill nor the drive that would be necessary to become the last of their race. That fact made Ahriman’s offer extremely attractive...

...until he considered the price of such a gift.

Privately, Adam thought that Duncan MacLeod had the potential to be the best of all the Immortals. A born leader and skilled warrior, the Highlander had the heart of a Boy Scout and the unending loyalty of a cocker spaniel. That’s not to say that MacLeod was perfect -- not by a long shot. The Scot’s tendency to follow his heart was commendable, yet foolish. He was often too quick to judge, especially in situations where he was out of his depth.

And worst of all, the Highlander was like a magnet, attracting both good and evil Immortals into his sphere of influence. With the number of heads Duncan had taken in the past five years, Adam wasn’t overly surprised at how powerful the Scot had grown. Of course, that created the additional problem of drawing some of the more unsavory Immortals looking to make a name for themselves by defeating a swordsman of Duncan’s caliber.

MacLeod was relatively young by Immortal standards, still plagued by the tendency of viewing things in either black or white. It was with that thought in mind, that Adam made the decision four years ago to befriend the Highlander, subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) teaching the Scot to examine and accept life’s shades of grey. Those lessons were often painful, but in Adam’s estimation, MacLeod was slowly making progress. That was until Ahriman came into the picture.

Although the demon’s offer was tempting, Adam not only found the inner-strength to refuse; he also began to research ways to help MacLeod in battle against Ahriman.

In return, the infuriated demon had upped the ante. That’s when Adam realized his nightmares were suddenly becoming frighteningly real.

He had written the first challenge off as a fluke -- a normal run-in between previously unacquainted Immortals. While not every encounter between Immortals ended with a beheading, it certainly did on that night. In truth, Adam wasn’t overly concerned about it when it occurred. Random challenges were part of the downside of life as an Immortal. Unless one was willing to spend his or her life on the sanctuary of holy ground, it happened from time to time to all of them.

In the three weeks that followed, Adam was challenged seven more times. That was more heads than he’d taken in the past four centuries combined. Somewhere around the third fight, Adam realized that Ahriman was influencing other Immortals to seek him out, to do what the demon was incapable of -- destroying Adam Pierson in the flesh. So far, his luck had held, but the challengers were becoming stronger and more skilled. Realist that he was, Adam knew that it would only be a matter of time before he faced someone he couldn’t defeat.

A researcher without peer, the Immortal had thrown himself into his work, desperately seeking something, anything that would help MacLeod, and by extension, himself. Information on demons, however, was a more than a little difficult to find, but Adam had other problems as well. It seemed as if every time he left his apartment, another Immortal would be lying in wait for him. With his movements somewhat restricted, Adam had turned to the World Wide Web simply out of desperation.

Talking about shooting the arrow into the air and having it hit the bullseye... Fate must have been in a good mood that night, as Adam had finally found a person who had solid information on the demon. It was the first break he’d had since he first began looking.

The irony did not escape this man. His eight weeks of meticulously methodical research had turned up less information than an hour spent on the internet. This ‘Sabrina’ had found the information rather quickly, which left Adam wondering what she could turn up if given more time. He’d been getting ready to ask her if she would continue to search when she had left the chat room.

It didn’t make sense. Adam had specifically mentioned that he would be right back. Granted, he was no expert at chat room ediquette; but it was generally accepted that one would wait to say goodbye before leaving the chat room.

But she was gone.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t lose her now. Not with so much at stake. Not with Duncan MacLeod’s life and sanity on the line.

Ruthlessly setting his annoyance aside, the Immortal trained his powerful intellect on the problem. He had only two things to work with: the transcript from the chat room session and her e-mail address, ‘netgirl@rydermail.com’.

The e-mail address was practically useless. The Ryder service was one of those free, check-mail-from- anywhere accounts. Odds were that whoever this girl was, she lied on the personal information form required to sign up for the account.

Nevertheless, it was a start.




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