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 all happened so fast that Willow could barely keep up. The injury Angel had sustained in the park was grievous, more than his undead body could compensate for without massive quantities of blood. Vampires, however, were remarkably resilient as the individual demon that resided within each one had a burning desire to survive. Undoubtedly, Angel’s body would heal itself in time, but that was a luxury they did not have. With the threat of the Legion bearing down on Sunnydale, they needed Angel up and around as quickly as possible.

At least that was the argument Willow used to persuade Giles.

In truth, the redhead was terrified by the sight of Angel’s motionless body. They had become close friends since she brought him back from Hell, closer than she had ever expected. Maybe even closer than they should have been, if Willow’s stray thoughts at his apartment earlier were any indication.

Perhaps that was why she felt her heart breaking back in the park when Dr. Pierson had said that Angel was ‘gone’. She’d cried on the older man’s shoulder, afraid of looking past his slender frame to see the vampire who meant so much to her reduced to a pile of ash. When she finally caught a glimpse of Angel’s motionless-but-still-intact body, Willow embraced the vampire with every ounce of strength she possessed, wanting to hold him and never let go. But approaching danger and common sense returned with a vengeance.

She must have been out of her mind grabbing Dr. Pierson’s gun away like that. Even holding the heavy, warm metal in her hands made her nervous, but she absolutely refused to leave Angel behind. She was well aware that Dr. Pierson must have thought her mad or overwhelmed with grief, but it made no difference.

Angel needed her, and she refused to let him down.

Slapping on her ‘resolve face’, Willow used a rare flash of temper to override the protests from Giles and Xander. Although her breakup with Oz was bittersweet, she knew that she would be able to count on his support, as well as, surprisingly enough, Cordelia’s. Since the prom queen had officially joined the ranks of the Slayerettes, she had consistently proven to be an asset in crunch times like these. Under that thick layer of snobbishness and self-absorption, Cordelia possessed a good heart and useful ability to ‘tell it like it was’. With their, albeit hesitant, support, Willow went ahead and cast the spell she instinctively knew Angel needed.

It seemed to work. One minute he was completely gone, and the next brought a series of visible muscle spasms throughout his long form. It was difficult to tell under the gory mess of both fresh and dried blood, but it appeared that the gash on Angel’s forehead was beginning to heal. When she heard the pain-filled groan escape the vampire’s throat, Willow was torn between wincing in sympathy and jumping in elation that the spell had worked.

The next noise from Angel made the blood in Willow’s veins run cold. It started out as a low moan, an indication of the pain the vampire was feeling from the still-closing wound on his forehead. However, over the course of a few seconds, the sound grew steadily in both pitch and volume, reaching a crescendo that made every heart in the room skip a beat.

With a move that spoke volumes of vampiric speed and resiliency, Angel bolted upright into a sitting position while his eyes scanned the room wildly. The way his eyes flitted over every nook and cranny of the library reminded Willow of prey being hunted by a predator in the wild. Only the non-stop cries pouring from Angel’s lips shattered the illusion.

What was wrong with him? Had the spell back-fired somehow? Had it caused him further injury? Was this what happened when he lost his soul? Hundreds of possibilities, and Willow did not have the first idea of what was truly wrong. A sense of panic was overwhelming her, and she was helpless to stop it.

Between the vampire’s screams echoing through the room and the fact that her attention was focused slowly on his agonized face, Willow missed the moment that Adam Pierson, followed closely by Xander and Oz, burst through the library doors.

“NOOOOOOOOO!” Angel wailed, his voice tainted with a tone that Willow had never heard before: sheer terror. She tried to call out his name, to reach forward to reassure him that she was there for him no matter what, but the vampire scuttled away from her.

Angel’s arms and legs were a tangled blur as he struggled to escape. Even the painful-looking tumble he took as he passed the end of the table was ignored. Willow ran after him, warily keeping a few feet of distance between herself and the agitated vampire. His cries had not abated, and despite her repeated calls, Angel’s eyes were casting wildly around the library, refusing to settle on any one place for more than a second.

With his progress hampered by the wire cage of the weapons locker, Willow finally took the opportunity to search out Giles, hoping that the Watcher might have some idea of what was happening. Craning her neck, her eyes moved swiftly past Xander, Oz, and Dr. Pierson. All of them were pale, undoubtedly just as unsettled by Angel’s sudden feral behavior as she was.

Before she could make eye contact with Giles, Dr. Pierson swiftly moved forward, passing both the librarian and Cordelia in his haste to reach Willow’s side. The redhead was surprised, however, when he ignored her in order to crouch directly in front of Angel’s shaking body.

If anything, Dr. Pierson’s approach made Angel scream even louder. Seeing her friend cowering in fear tore at Willow’s heart and, at the same time, made her angry at the man for causing Angel more pain.

“You’re scaring him! Get away...” she raged, only to be ignored by the slender man.

“Look at me. LOOK AT ME!” Adam commanded. When Angel ignored him, the professor’s hand shot out like lightning to grasp the vampire’s chin and force it upward. It was a difficult task, considering Angel’s continued squirming and shouting, yet the vampire made no effort to fight for his freedom.

“What are you doing to him?!!?” Willow demanded, grabbing a deceptively thin shoulder in order to force the other man away from Angel.

“I’m trying to help him, dammit!” Adam fumed as he shrugged off her hand. Tightening his clasp on Angel’s chin, he once again spoke directly to the vampire. “In the eye. Look me in the eye and it will stop.”

The tension in the library was thick as they all collectively awaited Angel’s reaction. Slowly, as if fighting Adam’s command every step of the way, the vampire forced his eyes to meet the demanding gaze of the man crouching before him. The moment where chocolate brown connected with mercurial hazel was impossibly long. Like somebody suddenly hitting the mute button on a remote control, Angel paused in mid-scream.

The sudden silence in the library was just as unsettling to its occupants as the echoing cries had been just moments before. Willow was trying desperately to make some sense of what had just happened but, for once, her powerful intellect was completely useless due to information overload. Sparing a quick glance at her fellow Slayerettes, she quickly ascertained that they were faring no better than she was at putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

“There,” Adam remarked in a tone that was both soothing and sarcastic. “See? All better now.”

Rising up from his squat, Adam turned with the intention of talking to Willow. He never got the chance. With every ounce of his vampiric speed, Angel exploded from his prone position to tackle Adam away from the redhead. The fact that Angel did not slip into his vampire visage only made the snarling expression on his face more frightening as he pinned the other man to the floor with a knee to his solar plexus. Grabbing a handful of his opponent’s short, dark hair, Angel tugged it hard to guarantee that he had Adam’s full attention.

“Stay away from her, Immortal,” he hissed viciously.

Adam Pierson was pissed.

When he first burst into the library and saw the way Willow’s boyfriend was clutching his head, it reminded Adam of the reaction of newly made members of his own race. Acting on gut-instinct, the Immortal had approached Angel, in part to confirm whether or not his theory was correct, but mostly to put an end to that God-awful screaming. When direct eye contact proved to be the solution to the problem, Adam was certain he was about to face a round of interrogating questions or, if he was lucky, a simple thank you.

The last thing the Immortal expected was to end up flat on his back with 180 pounds of insanely jealous boyfriend pinning him down.

Deciding that he’d had enough, Adam pooled his strength even as his vision began to dim from lack of oxygen. In the blink of an eye, one of the Immortal’s hands shot out to capture Angel’s throat while the other slipped under his coat to withdraw the long knife secured at his back. Locking his legs around the other man’s waist, Adam managed to flip them completely over, bringing the dagger up to his opponent’s neck at the same time.

“I wouldn’t suggest that,” the Immortal advised the prone figure beneath him. The once-dead man’s arms were free, and he’d been about to use them to attack Adam when the combination of the warning and the knife at his neck convinced him not to move.

“Let him go.” The calmly spoken order came from Oz as he aimed his crossbow directly at Adam.

The Immortal ignored the blond kid as a sickening sense of realization swept over him. He could feel tremors racing through the body beneath him, but not like those caused by fear. An image came to Adam’s mind as he attempted to categorize what he was feeling. It reminded him of the way a horse could involuntarily twitch independent muscle groups. The sensation was unsettling, especially since the Immortal knew that it should not have been possible for a human being.

That was when the next revelation struck him, and he found it to be more disturbing than the last. The skin he was grasping so tightly was still cool and, more importantly, Adam swore he could not feeling the telltale pulse of blood moving through Angel’s veins.

“What the hell?” he whispered as an expression of shock graced his angular features. Using the knife to keep his opponent from moving, the Immortal loosened his grip, extending two outstretched fingers in search of Angel’s jugular. Finding nothing in the proper spot, Adam moved his hand all around the other man’s throat. Sensing the futility of his actions, the Immortal slowly trailed a hand down Angel’s chest, pressing his hand down flat over the exact place a human heart should have been.

“You’re...not...what...what are you?” Adam asked in a tone that was a confused mix of fear and astonishment.

‘Oh shit. I’ve finally lost it! I’m as bloody insane as MacLeod...’ As soon as he completed the thought, Adam cursed himself for a fool once again. Ahriman. Of course, it had to be one of the demon’s tricks. Ahriman had been tormenting his dreams for weeks, but Adam had yet to experience the waking hallucinations that plagued both MacLeod and Joe Dawson.

The Immortal’s first impulse was to press the knife forward, to end this twisted vision with a single thrust of the blade. Before he could act, another more disturbing thought forced Adam to stop. What if he actually was pinning someone to the ground -- was Ahriman concealing an actual heartbeat? Was that what the demon had done in order to trick the Highlander into killing Richie Ryan? ‘I won’t do it, Ahriman. Your visions aren’t going to trick me,’ he thought to himself fiercely.

“Dr. Pierson? Dr. Pierson!” Willow’s tone rose in volume as she struggled to gain his attention. As her voice penetrated into the morass of Adam’s mind, he twisted around to meet her eyes. The girl’s expression spoke volumes of compassion for him, and the slightest bit of fear over the knife Adam still held to her boyfriend’s throat. “You aren’t seeing things. This is all real. Ahriman isn’t doing this, I promise.”

“How...oh.” Adam stopped in mid-sentence, wondering if he had spoken his thoughts aloud moments earlier. Or was it just another trick of the demon? “Who...who is this?” He gestured with the knife for clarification.

“It’s Angel. My friend from the park, remember?”

“He was dead! He didn’t have a pulse!” Adam insisted, his eyes narrowing over what he thought to be another trick. Tired of the games, the Immortal pressed the blade forward.

“No, wait!” Willow cried out in alarm. “He is! Angel *is* dead.”

“Then...” The Immoral stopped, confused as to what was happening.

“He doesn’t have a pulse.” Willow took a moment to look at her friend. Adam felt the prone man’s almost imperceptible nod as he gave the redhead permission to continue. “Angel doesn’t have a pulse because he’s a vampire.”

There was a pregnant pause as the Immortal absorbed the information he had just been given. If the teenagers words hadn’t still echoing in his ears, he would have doubted that he had heard her correctly. He could see that all the other occupants of the library were awaiting his reaction with bated breath, so Adam did the first thing that came to mind: he burst out laughing. Really. The Immortal made a mental note to compliment Ahriman on his creativity. After all, it had been years since Adam’s own imagination created something as outrageous as this scenario.

“A witch and a vampire?” Adam asked cynically. “What’s next? Mummies? Werewolves? Little trolls on the wings of airplanes?”

“Two outta three ain’t bad,” Xander mumbled to Oz, who simply shrugged in response.

Adam’s eyes traveled from person to person, studying the reaction of each one to weigh the veracity of Willow’s claim. They all seemed so serious that the Immortal was half-tempted to give them the benefit of the doubt -- for all of a half second. It was just a little too preposterous for him to swallow, though.

“Now may be a good time to put all these weapons away,” Giles prompted. “Perhaps we can talk this out.”

Adam and Oz eyed each other warily before slowly lowering the knife and crossbow. The Immortal, however, remained where he was, still chuckling over the earlier revelations.

“Do you mind?” Angel asked sardonically. “If you sit on me much longer, we’re going to have to pick out a china pattern.” Only then did Adam realize that he was still straddling the supposed-vampire’s waist.

“But we hardly know each other,” Adam purred, meeting Angel’s sarcasm with his own. As he raised himself up to a standing position, he threw one last barb at the other man. “So is it going to be a white wedding?”

“Euw! Visual bad! Visual very bad!” Xander protested with a pronounced grimace. Cordelia, however, appeared to give the image more than a passing thought as she quirked an eyebrow of interest.

As soon as Adam’s weight was removed from his body, Angel shot off the ground to pace like a drug addict awaiting his next score. Giles attempted to shepherd everybody to the large table, cleaning up the candles, sand and miscellaneous jars leftover from the spell along the way. Shoving the items in the cardboard box, the librarian hefted it out of the way before sitting down across from Adam at the head of the table.

“Angel?” Giles inquired to the still-pacing vampire. Realizing that something was still amiss with the other man, the Watcher called his name again. “Won’t you join us?”

“I...you...don’t you see? I *can’t*,” he insisted emphatically, prompting Willow to jump up and move to his side.

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently.

“It’s the demon,” he explained. “It’s agitated...it’s like...it wants to...run. It wants *me* to run.”

“Is it afraid? Of Dr. Pierson?” Giles asked, obviously fascinated by the information.

“No. It’s not afraid...exactly. I don’t...know how else to put it. It’s more than the normal impulses it has, those I can deal with, but this...this feels like it’s practically crawling around under my skin trying to find some way to get out.”

“But it *is* Dr. Pierson’s presence causing this, is it not?”

“Yes...no, wait,” Angel hesitated, thinking back as to when he first felt the sensation. When the brown eyes narrowed in hostile suspicion, Adam knew instantly what the other man’s next words were going to be. “You followed us from my apartment.”

“Not exactly,” Adam deferred. A past master at deception, the Immortal was well aware that it was in his best interest to reveal as little about himself as possible. Besides, he still doubted the claims that this group had made. At that moment, however, he had a few more pressing questions of his own. “What do you feel when I get near you? Is it like a buzzing sensation in your head?”

“Not exactly.” From the expression on Angel’s face, Adam knew that he was not going to be able to get away with as much as he’d originally thought. “Is that what your spell is supposed to do?”

“Spell?” Adam echoed in obvious confusion. “I don’t know anything about spells.”

“Then what are doing to me?”

“It’s not just you, Angel,” Willow interrupted, her voice distant as she thought back to earlier in the evening. Turning back to the Immortal, Willow said her conclusion aloud. “You made those other vamps in the park run away, too.”

“Look! Can we stop with the vampire nonsense?” The Immortal’s tone was sharp as his patience began to wear thin.

“It’s not nonsense,” Willow insisted when she saw the doubt on Adam’s face. “Show him, Angel. You know, go ‘grrrr’.”

“I can’t,” the vampire growled in frustration. “Believe me, I’ve been trying since he pinned me down.”

The five Sunnydale natives exchanged glances, each considering this new bit of information with varying levels of interest. Not surprisingly, Willow appeared to be the most concerned while the librarian looked fascinated by the turn of events. Adam, however, was still attempting to reconcile all the facts, his mind seeking a rational explanation -- one that did not involve supernatural creatures of the night.

“Do you still have your strength?” Giles asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the group.

Without sparing so much as a glance at the table, Angel strode over to the weapons locker. Once there, he picked up the crow-bar that the librarian had used to open the wooden crate his books had been delivered in earlier that morning. There was a small smile of satisfaction on his face as Angel bent the solid metal bar as easily as a child would fold a soft stick of gum. Listless and bored by his display, Angel threw the crowbar aside. He was already back to pacing by the time the clang of the metal’s impact with the ground rang out through the room.

“The next time I make a testosterone-driven, I’m-more-of-a-man-than-you-are challenge to Angel, remind me *not* to pick arm-wrestling,” Xander asked of no one in particular. Now the Immortal wasn’t sure what to think. Even Silas at his peak could never have bent a bar that easily, and Adam’s former compatriot was one of the strongest people he’d ever seen. Intrigued, he decided to give a little ground.

“This...sensation that you’re feeling, does it get more intense the closer I am?”

Angel’s pacing halted as he considered the question. With an obvious grimace of distaste, the dark-haired man pivoted and slowly stalked closer to the Immortal. At the half-way point, Angel suddenly stopped and returned to his original place, throwing a positive response over his shoulder as he retreated.

“And you knew that because...” Xander prompted.

Turning to face the others at the table, Adam offered an explanation. “When two Immortals get near each other, they both experience that ‘buzz’. It’s how they identify each other. Once eye contact is made, the feeling stops.”

“That’s why you made Angel look at you,” Oz observed, waiting for Adam’s nod of confirmation before continuing. “And all Immortals have this? All the time or just when you get near each other?”

“All the time, I would imagine,” Adam speculated, his wise hazel eyes following Angel as he moved purposely up the staircase leading to the stacks. “But the range varies from Immortal to Immortal.”

“Why?” Oz asked, as simple and direct as always.

“There are a lot of factors -- age, strength, power...”

“How old *are* you?” Willow eyes, her green eyes alight with interest.

“Older than some...,” Adam began, but the rest of his vague answer was replaced by a sharp hiss of in-drawn breath.

At the top the stairs stood a fully vamped-out Angel.

Even in the muted fluorescent lighting of library, the Immortal could clearly see the yellow eyes, ridged forehead and, above all else, the prerequisite elongated fangs of the vampire’s true face. So rattled was Adam by this unexpected revelation, he was uncharacteristically shocked into utter silence, simply staring at the...thing in front of him. Angel appeared to be conducting an experiment of sorts. Retracing his steps, the vampire made it to the third from the top when his face smoothly shifted back to it’s more handsome visage. Each time the vampire moved back and forth between the second and third step, his face changed.

“How far do think this is?” he asked nobody in particular.

For the first time since witnessing Angel’s metamorphosis, Adam looked at the other people gathered around the table. The Immortal was more than a little surprised that each and every one of the group from Sunnydale radiated tension when Angel spoke in his vampiric face. He would have thought that the group, Willow in particular, would have been more comfortable at seeing their friend like this. Then again, perhaps this was a side of Angel they were unused to witnessing.

“Giles?” the vampire questioned impatiently.

“Huh?...Oh...yes...uh, perhaps 10 meters or so,” the librarian stammered absently.

“Meters?”

“About 30 feet, Angel,” Willow replied helpfully.

Both vampire and Immortal stored the knowledge away carefully as Angel made one final shift to his human face and proceeded back down the stairway. Approaching the table, the vampire’s rich, brown eyes caught Adam’s. There, in those deep, chocolate depths, the Immortal saw the warning that Angel still had the ability to kill Adam were he to endanger any the group gathered around the table. Rolling his eyes at the implied threat, the Immortal decided he’d had about enough of this little freak show. Time to get things back on track.




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